#maybe if i was medicated and had therapy i could do this . but i also just think i suck at design

[chrisbangs]

😞 wish i was a better designer...

[cannibalizedlove]

jus stumbled on ur acc and IM IN LOVE I jus read the stalker!donnie fic and was wondering if there's a scenario where reader actually knew the entire time and is equally obsessed (basically self inserting LOL). but anyway idk if u write smut so maybe reader teases him abt it when they're having a lil makeout sesh in the couch and readers all like "its kinda hot" and says some crazy shit that makes donnie. whos as deep in the pool of obsession as you gets hellaaaa flustered EEEK I'm going crazy I fucking love donnie

Thank you for the request!! I think this is such a good idea, mutual obsession is just.. chef kiss. I hope you enjoy <3

The feelings mutual.

Information and warnings — smut!*, part twoish of “watching you”, male reader, donnie and reader being horny messes, donnie’s first time so you ruin him :((, reader being a kinky freak which is perfect for him, heavy corruption kink, donnie being a loser bottom bitch (affectionate). this is so long, i apologize ahh, i just love him so much.

You had been going with Donnie for about three months now, and you were infatuated with everything about him.

You loved hearing him talk about whatever new conspiracy theory he bought into, and you were always there to help him during his hallucinations.

Donnie was completely and utterly obsessed with you, he did everything for you. Even though you were perfectly capable of doing your homework, Donnie would always snatch it from your backpack and do it for you, he never let you lift a finger. It was crystal clear that you had him whipped.

Before the two of you got together, Donnie was just as obsessed with you. The huge perv was constantly watching you through your windows, following you home, and of course, stealing your underwear. What Donnie didn’t know is that you were completely aware of his stalking, and how you were completely turned on by it.

The two of you were sitting on his couch in the living room, his parents and siblings were out to dinner while Donnie was supposed to be at his therapy session with Dr. Thurman, but skipping it one time wouldn’t hurt, right? Seeing how you were like his medication, except you actually worked and didn’t just make him drowsy.

The two of you were watching a corny horror movie, you had already connected the dots and figured out who the killer was, though, it didn’t matter anyways because neither of you were paying attention. You were leaned against his warm body while Donnie was squeezing and touching every inch of you that he could grab.

You let out quiet moans as he began to kiss behind your ears and onto your collar bone, reaching up and softly running your hands through his short hair. The two of you had never gone farther than this before, and it was slowly killing Donnie.

He needed you more than he needed air, you were the most angelic thing he had ever seen, he wanted nothing more than to ruin your pure image.

“Donnie, I know a lot about you.” You softly spoke, your words interrupted by little moans and laughs when his lips would tickle your neck.

“Yeah? Like what, angel?” Donnie smiled against your skin, drawing invisible circles on your exposed skin.

“I know that you have extensive knowledge on time travel.. and that your favorite cartoon is The Smurfs..” You chuckled at the last part, earning a playful eye roll from the boy and a gentle push; “..and I also know that you like to steal my underwear.” You finished your sentence by grabbing his jaw.

Donnie instantly froze and his heart sank into his stomach. His eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly before coming up with a lie on the spot.

“I don’t know what you mean, I wouldn’t do that.. That’s a total invasion of your privacy!” He began to breathe heavily, he felt like an animal caught in a cage with no way out.

“Oh, and you would never invade my privacy, right? You would never follow me home.. or sit by my window and watch me?” You had moved positions from laying on him to now straddling him sitting on his lap. You drew out your words softly into his ear, feeling him shake from anxiety.

Donnie knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this, he knew he was caught, and he was terrified. Was this the end? Were you completely disgusted with him and you were just stringing him along to hurt him? He couldn’t believe that, you were too sweet, too perfect, he didn’t want to lose you over his uncontrolled attraction to you.

“Do you.. hate me.. for it?” Donnie looked up at you with glossy eyes, trying to swallow his fear but failing miserably.

You couldn’t keep playing with him like this, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you couldn’t help but find him attractive with his quivering voice and worried eyes.

“Oh, Donnie.. I could never hate you.” You lifted his chin to hold eye contact with him, and ran your free hand through his hair. “If anything,” You paused, letting his jaw go, and leaning forward, leaving your lips just an inch away from his.

“It’s kinda hot.” You finished your sentence, pushing your lips into his with a hard kiss, leaving Donnie completely surprised.

He couldn’t believe it, he was afraid of you being horrified of him, yet here you were making out with him because of it. Donnie knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the tent that was growing in his pants.

The kisses were only broken by the loud moans that left both of your mouths, the two of you couldn’t get enough of each other. You began to grind down on his crotch, pulling on his hair. Donnie bit down on your lip, resulting in a sharp moan from you. He latched onto your neck, attacking it with bites and wet kisses. You were in complete bliss, the only things you could think about were Donnie’s teeth pulling on your skin and his hand creeping up to your throat.

Donnie pulled away, placing his hand on your throat harshly. Both of your lips were swollen, and Donnie’s face was completely flushed, he smiled as he watched you pant like a dog, and he began to palm you through your jeans that had become 2 sizes to small, enjoying every moan that you cried out.

You looked incredible like this, he thought, your eyelashes wet from the tears that welled up from Donnie’s painful bites, your hair completely unruly, falling perfectly infront of your face, every bit of your sight was driving him crazy. It honestly amazed him how he was able to keep himself from ripping every bit of fabric off of you and making you cry, but Donnie didn’t wanna scare you off; so he kept his composure, at least this time he would.

You began to roll your hips into his hand that had a tight grip on your painfully hard bulge, moaning loudly into his open mouth, holding onto his wrist of the hand that was on your throat, causing him to squeeze ever so slightly harder. You felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough, you needed to feel him.

“Please.. Donnie.” You said breathlessly with your eyes screwed shut. Donnie didn’t know if this was real or a hallucination, he had thought about this moment every time he masturbated with your stolen underwear, but now that it was actually happening, he felt wildly intimidated.

“I’ve never.. I’ve never done this before.” Donnie halted his movements, hanging his head low in embarrassment, worrying that the fact he was still a virgin would turn you off; only to find out that it made you want him ten times more, if that was even possible.

“That’s okay.. I can teach you, I promise.” You grabbed his chin, lifting it back up to your gaze, watching his already red face turn brighter.

Donnie nodded wildly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you stand up in front of him, taking your jeans off. He swore that if you looked hard enough, you could see a pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. When you had finally gotten your jeans off, which felt like years to the poor horny mess, you sat back down on his lap, kissing his forehead gently.

You gestured to Donnie to lift his arms up, and he instantly followed the command, lifting his arms up and swallowing thickly as you took his shirt off. Your lips ghosted over his as you ran your hands down his chest, taking note of how he bucked his hips subconsciously when you ran a finger over his nipple.

“We can start off simple, is that okay?” You smiled sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his every movement to make sure you didn’t cause him any discomfort. “Yeah.. yeah that’s okay.” Donnie said, completely out of breath, his hard on becoming increasingly more painful.

You brought his hand down to your bulge once again, giving him a soft kiss as he circled your tip through your boxers. “You can take them off — please, take them off.” That simple command was all it took for him to completely rip off your plaid boxers, exposing your dripping cock to the cold air of the boys house. Donnie gripped you instantly, running his thumb over your slit with a half swallowed moan escaping his mouth.

“Fuck, Donnie..” Your face was buried in the nape of his neck, kissing it every once in a while to try and stifle your increasingly louder groans. Donnie had his free hand on the back of your head, holding you close to the sweet spot behind his ear you kept attacking. “You’re so fucking pretty..” He cried while continuing to work your length, he could feel his own pre completely soaking through his underwear. You began to roll your hips once again, feeling like you were on cloud nine, but just before you could come undone in his hand, he pulled away, holding your waist tightly.

“Can I.. you know…” Donnie whined, despite the fact that he had the nerve to stalk you, and break into your home, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words ‘fuck you’, it was pathetically adorable.

You chuckled and nodded your head, kissing his cheek before sitting on your knees and helping Donnie remove his jeans. Something about you doing everything for him, and teaching him how to fuck you was deliciously exciting to him. He loved the idea of him being completely tainted by you, even if he had originally dreamed of the roles being reversed. With his jeans now removed, you kissed him one final time before curling a finger in his waistband, pulling his boxers down to his ankles.

Donnie looked away bashfully, his length twitching quickly, leaking pre like a hose. You bit your lip, taking a mental photo for use later. You hovered over him, holding his hard cock tightly as you lined it up with your hole.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, kissing the top of his head, making sure that he was ready to be taken like this. Donnie whined out in frustration, he was never good with patience and it was on full display here. You laughed at his needy response, and slowly began to sink down onto his dripping length. Donnie instantly threw his head back, grabbing your waist and digging his short nails into your skin. Your mouth hung open, sinful noises filled the room from the both of you as you bottomed out onto him.

Donnie’s eyes began to water from the sheer pleasure, and he held you like his life depended on it. It took you a second to adjust to his size, but you started slowly moving up and down, making Donnie completely loose it. His quiet demeanor was totally lost at this point, nothing but whines, cried out moans, and loud “fucks”, and “please’s” left his mouth. Nothing filled his mind except the feeling of you wrapped around him, and your pretty facial expressions. The poor boy was totally overwhelmed, fat tears began to fall from his eyes as he got closer to his climax.

The sight was enough to push you over the edge, he looked completely wrecked, and it was a gorgeous sight. You pushed yourself forward, latching onto his lips and grabbing his face tightly, his tears transferring onto your cheeks as you kissed. You became undone onto both of your chests, thick ropes covering Donnie’s frail body. Donnie broke the kiss with a loud cry, hitting his climax and losing himself inside of you. He held you tightly to his body as he pumped you full.

After a few moments of silence, that let both of you gain your composure, you let out a breathy laugh, kissing your fucked out boyfriend all over his face. You watched as his chest heaved up and down as he blinked tightly, trying to regain all of his senses. Donnie kissed your lips softly, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug.

“Hey.. how did you know all that stuff? Have you like.. done this before?” Donnie said, a thick sense of jealousy flowing through every word.

“No, I just watch a lot of porn.” You chuckled, a devilish smile running across your face.

Donnie let out a breathless moan as he flipped you onto your back, just the idea making him ready for a round two.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Finding Refuge.

Chapter two.

Surviving a Zombie Apocalypse with Terry Richmond

“I’m so sorry, Raelynn. The position has been filled.”

Raelynn Matthews looked into the eyes of the receptionist standing behind a sleek front desk. The stillness within that corporate building in Downtown Atlanta left an eerie feeling she was intensely familiar of.

“E–Excuse me?” Raelynn finally found the words to speak, “I–I–I–don’t understand.”

The nonchalant receptionist stared back at Raelynn with a cool expression and a slow blink.

“I received an email from your company for a job opportunity. You have an opening here,” Raelynn displayed the email to the receptionist, “So help me understand…”

The sunken, almost lifeless eyes of the receptionist flicked down to her iPhone and then back to her face.

“That email was sent two days ago. We don’t wait around for a response. If you wanted the job, you’d have shown up within the allotted timeframe.”

The even, condescending tone of the alabaster bitch sitting before her was about to bring the evil out of Raelynn.

“Are you being sarcastic? The date says March 25th. Today is March 25th—”

“I’m trying to be nice here. What would you rather me do? Go grab one of the big boys and have him tell you what I just told you?”

Emerald green eyes stared into Raelynn’s coffee brown orbs. The receptionist with a nameplate that reads: Monica Caudle, started packing her patchwork satchel, prepared to leave Raelynn standing there. The sound of dress shoes against polished, concrete floors echoed around her as her fingers covered in various silver rings twitched against the desk’s surface.

“You know your way out—AHHH! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Somehow, Raelynn’s hand smacked against Monica’s Big Gulp cup and spilled the contents of a blue slurpie all over her white capris and black, pointed toe, ballet flats. Monica leaped up and almost tripped from the velocity of her sudden movements. The blue, icy-cold liquid drifted all over her desk, soaking very important documents and Monica’s AirPod Pro case.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Monica screeched, “I OUTTA SLAP THE FUCK OUT OF YOU—”

Whoops,” Raelynn twisted her full lips and gave a single shoulder shrug, “My hand just…has a mind of its own.”

“I’m calling security—”

“Call them, I don’t care. You deserved it. I’m sure you’ve gotten by so far in your miserable life being nasty and rude to people. Today is the day you feel how it feels to be treated poorly. And it doesn’t help the fact that you’re so ugly on the outside. It matches that rotten core of yours.”

Raelynn beamed at Monica. Monica stared at her with her mouth agape.

“Think about what I’ve said. Really think on it, Monica. I could have done worse,” Raelynn placed her large, black, Telfar bag over her shoulder, “Have a good rest of your day!”

Turning, Raelynn walked away, ready to get so far away from that building. She refused to allow herself to cry over it. Maybe it was a sign for the heavens above that this job wasn’t for her. She was still in college working towards a certificate in medical billing and coding. Other opportunities were on the horizon.

Raelynn had a temper, one she couldn’t control when in situations. Slowing down, breathing deeply, and taking a break before responding were methods she tried to use to reduce her anger. Practicing relaxation skills and developing new anger-management strategies may also help. She just started therapy, so it was an adjustment for her.

A black girl from Decatur, apart of the 14.57 percent of African Americans within the eastern suburb. Her foster parents had her attend the best schools, put her in many clubs from ballet to karate, and made sure she got a full ride to Spelman.

You may have heard the expression “children are resilient,” promoting the idea that children can overcome and conquer hardship and trauma. While it may be comforting to believe in the rhetoric of childhood resilience — that children are immune to adverse experiences and won’t be damaged by trauma — it’s far from the truth. Raelynn suffered heavily from PTSD. She was neglected by her biological parents and abused by her mother’s boyfriend at the age of seven.

The cigarette burn in the center of her chest was a reminder. The sensation of piping hot water against her skin brought back memories of sitting in a hot tub after receiving a beating, the whelps on her skin so painful she couldn’t stand the heat against her skin. Nights without a meal because she ‘disrespected her mother’s man’. Going to school at the age of nine with a black eye was enough to have her 4th grade teacher call CPS.

“Take her, I can’t afford her anyway. One less thing to be concerned with.”

George and Tonya Williams adopted her. George was a Veteran and Tonya was a pediatric nurse. They drove all the way from Decatur to take her back with them. George was a very disciplined man. Very straight and very structured. He was like a drill sergeant. Tonya was loving and often times smothered Raelynn. They built a picture–perfect daughter to their liking, and Raelynn felt she didn’t have a say in the matter. Although she was forever grateful of them, she wished they could understand.

Raelynn became rebellious. She skipped school, got suspended multiple times, fought often, and stayed out way past curfew. It was a cry for help that fell on deaf ears. Eventually, George started to regret adopting Raelynn. And just like her mother’s boyfriend, he hit her. Slapped her in the face. Slapped her while her foster mother watched. Thankfully, she was of age to leave them both behind and figure out what she was going to do.

She left Decatur and moved to Atlanta where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, got her license, made poor dating choices, and partied till she couldn’t party anymore. It did nothing but numb the pain. She tried reaching out to her biological father, but discovered he had passed from colon cancer a year prior. Her mother was no longer with that abusive man but she was living in South Carolina with extended family until she got back on her feet.

Before stepping off the curb and into the street, Raelynn stopped herself, realizing what she was about to do. Was she about to…walk into incoming traffic? She took two wide steps back and closed her eyes. That wasn’t the answer. Raelynn noticed a bench and took a seat. She sat her bag down next to her and retrieved a small note pad and a pen with purple ink. Raelynn removed the top to the pen with her teeth and started jotting down what had just happened.

After what felt like an hour, Raelynn stood from the bench and walked safely across the street to her parked car and climbed inside. The drive back to her shared apartment with her roommate took longer than usual, cars bumper to bumper. Raelynn opened the door to their two bedroom apartment and dropped her shoes off where she stood. Walking inside, she spotted her roommate, Ashley, an art major with the beauty of a pageant girl and the body of an IG model. Ashley was wearing a matching, pale–pink pajama set with her honey blonde knotless braids cascading down her back.

“Raelynn? Did you see the news?” Ashley glanced over her shoulder at Raelynn with light–brown eyes, “look…”

This is a worldwide emergency broadcast; a viral outbreak has been reported and is spreading quickly. The virus is a fast acting strain and is passed through bodily fluids from the infected. Once bitten or contaminated in any way, it attacks your bloodstream and brain. The symptoms of the infected include profound sweating, fever and nausea.

Raelynn’s eyes were hooked to the screen. Ashley stood from the carpet and began ringing her shaky hands as fear rushed through her. Life was about to get interesting. So, a worldwide pandemic? Great. What else can go wrong? They were behind in rent, she couldn’t get another job after being fired from her job delivering packages from Amazon. With a pandemic, she’d have no way to pay bills and survive.

Call up George and Tonya. Move back home to Decatur, she thought.

“It’s probably one of those distractions, Ashley. Just like all of that Area 51 bullshit—”

“Shhhhh! Listen!”

Ashley turned the volume up on their wall—mounted flat screen.

The virus is fatal and there is no cure as we speak; we have reports coming in now that the infected that have passed are rising and attacking the non–infected. Please stay in your homes and do not get close to anyone sick, in severe cases that you need to protect yourself, the only way to stop them is damaging the brain. Do not try to come to emergency services or hospitals and wait for more information…

“Rae…”

Ashley was starting to have a panic attack right before Raelynn’s eyes. The intense fear and anxiety she was experiencing made her dizzy. Ashley almost lost her balance and fell face first against the carpet. Raelynn dropped her bag and rushed over, slowly lowering Ashley to the sofa. She wrapped her arms around her shaking body, rubbing her back in soothing circles. Ashley’s hyperventilating began to slow down.

“Ash, it’s okay…it’s okay��”

“I need to call my mom and my sister! I need to know that they’re okay!” Ashley shouted hysterically.

“Ash, Ash, please, calm down—”

“NO!”

Ashley shoved Raelynn, causing her to fall back against the couch while she stormed off down the hall. Raelynn shot up from the couch and followed Ashley, angered by her rage against her when she was only trying to help. She stood within the doorway of Ashley’s bedroom and watched her pack an overnight bag with random pieces of clothing.

“So, you’re just going to go out there when they just said to stay indoors—”

“I need to be with my family, Raelynn. They’re all I’ve got left. I don’t expect you to understand that—”

“HOLD ON,” Raelynn charged inside of Ashley’s room, “I was only trying to help you! If they’re saying it isn’t safe to go out, then why would you?—”

Raelynn wasn’t prepared for what just happened. Ashley bent over in front of her and vomited all over her bedroom floor. Raelynn rocked back on her heels to avoid it from getting on her. The putrid smell of her stomach contents filled the cramped space and Raelynn couldn’t stand there any longer.

Ashley looked up at her with a sweaty face and spit hanging from her bottom lip. They locked eyes and the silence between them was almost chilling.

The symptoms of the infected include profound sweating, fever and nausea.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Raelynn questioned.

Ashley avoided Raelynn’s penetrating gaze.

“Ashley, how long?”

Ashley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She rushed past Raelynn and into their shared bathroom to grab cleaning supplies. Raelynn watched her scrub and clean, the scent of bleach mixed with vomit toxic to her senses.

“Do you think you were infected—”

“Shut up right now, Raelynn.”

“I need to ask these questions! Because if you are…if you are…”

Raelynn disappeared down the hall to her room. Fuck what that news anchor said on television. If Ashley was indeed infected, she would attack Raelynn and do the exact same to her. She packed an even bigger bag, grabbing all the important things she needed before heading back to Decatur.

Speaking of Decatur.

Incoming call…

“Tonya?”

Raelynn glanced down the hallway, the sound of Ashley scrubbing catching her ear.

“Raelynn, honey, is everything alright? Did you hear what’s happening? Are you safe?”

“Uh…” she lowered her voice and cracked her door, “I don’t think so…my roommate is sick…she just threw up everywhere.”

“You need to come home. Get out of there fast. I rushed home from work because the hospital is in an uproar. The things I’ve witnessed…come home, Rae.”

“How does George feel about all this?”

“…George wants you home too. Leave now and let me know when you’re on the way. I love you. Please be careful, Raelynn.”

Beep.

Raelynn started to feel her own sense of trepidation. She continued packing, and when she finished, she opened her door, silence ahead of her.

“Ashley?”

Nothing. Just an eerie silence.

Raelynn hated the unknown. She hated not knowing what she was walking into. That hallway was her only chance of leaving that apartment. Mustering courage, Raelynn gathered her things and began walking the hallway. Before she approached Ashley’s door. She stopped, reaching inside of her Telfar bag, gripping the handle of her licensed gun. She made sure to bring it with her if what the news was saying was true.

In severe cases that you need to protect yourself, the only way to stop them is damaging the brain.

Raelynn stepped in front of Ashley’s door and it was empty. She’d left. Raelynn exhaled, hoping that Ashley wasn’t infected. She was on her way to her mother and sister. If she’s infected, she would definitely do the same to them.

Not wasting anymore time, Raelynn left the apartment behind and as she exited the complex, her eyes moved back and forth, taking in the sight of people rushing and screaming and crying. She hadn’t been in her apartment for an hour and already there was mass hysteria. She jogged with her bags to her Honda Civic, popping the trunk and throwing her bags inside. Raelynn made sure to keep her eyes focused around her. She hopped in her car and slammed the door shut, thankful she was safe.

We’re gonna die!

It’s the apocalypse!

Those words stuck with her the entire ride to Decatur. She could only hope it wasn’t true. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she needed to be woken up from this growing nightmare.

——

3:00 pm

The town of Senoia

located 45 minutes south of Atlanta. It was established in 1860 , the land was purchased by a Reverend. Cotton and Peaches where the agricultural products shipped from this area. There are still plenty of farms, now they have lots of honey farms and other fruits. The town was named after a captain's wife from the civil war.

Terry walked into that town with a shotgun flung across his body and a crossbow in his hand. He wore his favorite jeans, a grey T-shirt beneath a flannel shirt, and a beanie on his head. His hazel eyes took in the appearance of the charming little town, small shops surrounding him. The sound of shuffling feet startled him so he ducked low behind an abandoned, faded blue sedan.

It was a small group of zombies.

Terry silently watched while fixing his crossbow to shoot. He steadied his breathing, something he’d learned to do over the months. No use in making it known that he was highly anxious. His eyes peeked through the dusty window at the zombies moving along with weak attempts to stay on two feet.

It’s crazy to think that these were once everyday people. Waking up, going to work, driving, laughing, making love…

They stumbled around, moaning and groaning.

Rauuuhhh…guhhhhhhhh…

Another method that allowed Terry to keep the zombies away from where he hunkered down was to bait them. He’d tie dead animals to a wooden board and hang them in various locations within the forest to keep his scent away. It worked, because if they caught a whiff of him, they’d go crazy. He had to do it every several days. A lot of work, but worth your life.

When they were far enough away, Terry remained low, his eyes casing the area like a hawk. Solid back against a brick wall, Terry retrieved his walkie talkie from his back pocket. He’d made it to the first landmark Rae told him about.

“When you find the history museum, radio me and I’ll tell you what to do from there. Good luck, Terry.”

He was still unsure about Rae.

“Why are you helping me?” Terry questioned her hours prior.

“Because…I know what’s it’s like…and we have to have each other’s back, right?”

He’d like to believe that. Terry refused to travel in a pack. He refused to trust anyone else besides his cousin. But, with Mike gone, he had no choice but to let his guard down just a little. Only a little this time. As soon as he finds Mike, he’s leaving everyone behind. Including Rae.

“Rae, this is Terry, come in.”

Terry moved further away until he was hiding beside a dumpster, crouched low.

“Rae, what’s your 20?”

He couldn’t stay here any longer. What the fuck was she doing? His head snapped to the right when he thought he’d heard something.

Terry whispered a low “fuck,” before jogging as quickly and quietly as he could across to the other side.

“Rae, come in, I’m too exposed. You got me open out here.”

“Terry, Terry, I’m here, sorry…”

“What the fuck was that?” Terry whispered aggressively into the walkie talkie.

“Signal strength down. I’m trying here, Terry. Are you at the landmark?”

“Yes, yes. Now, where to go from here?”

“Travel north. You’ll notice train tracks straight away. Stick close to the trees. When you reach a tunnel, I’m waiting inside for you.”

“Will you? I need your word, Rae.”

“I promise. I wouldn’t lead you astray.”

Terry moved. He hadn’t been in this position for at least two months. His well, structured game plan to remain hidden most of the time was being tested. It took Terry about twenty minutes to find the tracks. He stepped over carefully and did as Rae suggested: sticking to the trees. Ignoring the twigs and pointy greenery scraping his skin, Terry could see the tunnel straight ahead.

“Argh!”

Terry dropped to his knees when the back of a gun collided with his head. He dropped his crossbow and turned around on his hands to see who had attempted to knock him out. He was resilient. it would take a lot to put Terry Richmond down. Not even a taser could subdue him for long. He’d withstood a bullet to his back. His bright eyes stared up into the eyes of a wild—looking white man with overgrown facial hair and thin, oily, dirty blonde hair.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Terry wanted to kill this man with his bare hands. He was going to draw attention to them.

“Get that gun out my face.” Terry warned.

“I don’t recognize your face ‘round here. We don’t take kindly to outsiders in Woodsbury. You could be infected…”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. And you’re right, I’m not from around here. But I damn sure don’t owe you an explanation. After all, you don’t own this town.”

Click.

Terry acted quickly and charged the man into the bushes. They wrestled, rolling around in the dirt. Terry took his arm and pinned it back, causing the man with rancid breath to wail in agony. He wouldn’t keep still. Terry had to put him in a choking headlock with his bulging bicep.

He squeezed.

The man tapped his arm frantically.

“You wanna go to sleep? Drop the fuckin’ gun. Do it now, motherfucker.” Terry spoke through clenched teeth.

The man loosened his grip on the gun. Terry gave his throat one more painful squeeze to let him know he meant business before releasing him. Terry picked himself up from the ground while the man tried to catch his breath. He picked up the gun and placed it on his hip.

“This mine now.” Better move along before they come find you after making all that noise.”

Terry snatched up his crossbow and adjusted the shotgun around him as he walked, with one final look of pure hatred down at the man, he continued on his way and fast. Terry lifted his forearm and studied the bloody abrasion with fierce eyes.

He wanted to scream. He couldn’t afford to walk around with an open wound. If anything, that man he was fighting back there could be infected.

Terry took off running as fast as he could, darting between trees like a track runner. Up ahead, he came out onto the train tracks and sprinted into the dark tunnel. He slowed his footsteps and pressed his chest into the wall of the tunnel, exhausted breaths billowing from his mouth.

He didn’t have a second to gather himself before he had his crossbow aimed at the face of a woman.

Ebony skin a deep brown with a dewy appearance.

Heart shaped face with eyes coffee brown and a flared nose decorated with a hoop ring.

Lips full and lush.

Hair styled in thick, rope twists that reached her waist

She had her hands raised in surrender. Those entrancing eyes didn’t look away for a second.

Staring down the length of his crossbow, his eyes that appeared green drifted down her tiny frame. She was wearing a hoodie beneath a thick, utility jacket. Her lower half was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and her feet were covered with dirty high–top Vans.

His eyes locked with hers again, and he slowly lowered his weapon. She released a shaky breath, the sound settling his nerves. He held the crossbow to his side and parted his dry lips to speak.

“Rae?”

She nodded her head, her own eyes taking him in from head to toe.

“Terry…”

She reached behind her and Terry’s eyes followed cautiously. Raelynn held up a hand to calm him down.

“I’m just grabbing the walkie talkie,” She displayed Mike’s walkie talkie, holding it out for him to take, “Here…figured you’d want this back—”

“Show me the worksite where you found it. Maybe there’s a clue there that’ll lead me to Mike—”

“That’s not a good idea…”

Terry tilted his head down at her short body. Rae had to crane her neck to look at him.

“That’s my family, Rae. And we had a deal. Did you forget that?”

Rae’s eyes darted down to her feet. Terry released a sigh.

“Fuck it, just point me in the direction and I can be out your way.” Terry said with a frustrated voice.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Terry. It’s just…there’s guys from this group that are pretty dangerous…they’ve been on the hunt for anyone that could be infected and they’re killing them on the spot.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Terry looked left and right before his intimidating eyes fell on her again, “I just took down one of those guys not too far from here. I ended up with this,” Terry raised his arm to show her, “And I’m not tryna stick around to get infected. Got something on you to wrap me up?”

“Yes,” Rae started walking backwards towards a door, “This way—”

“Stop.”

Rae paused.

“What’s down there?”

“Our refuge. You coming or not?”

Terry hesitated. He looked around him one last time before following Rae through a door, darkness the only thing he could make out ahead.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r@kanafunee @helloncrocs @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Collars Of Duty 4

MalinoisHybrid!Simon x reader

- Chapter 3 - (Chapter 5)

Simon's gone and you're left to deal with his sudden absence. But maybe it's not all over yet.

~ 8,3k Words

Content (might contain spoilers): reader being mean to themselves in their thoughts, hybrid AU, mention of past injury, hints at past attack, mentions of therapy, biting, blood

A.N: I messed with the COD timeline here. I know that some of the things I mention don't happen during this time and don't fit with the canon but it's my AU so shush. Curious if you lot catch the cameo. Have fun. Also not my best chapter but I poured a lot of heart, time and effort into it.

It’s been almost a week since Simon’s transport back to England. A week that you’ve spent at home again. The day you arrived at work to find Simon gone you went back to medical leave. Now as you sit on your couch and look out through your living room window you wonder if that was the best decision.

Simon’s sudden absence left you hollower than you anticipated. You spent barely a week by his side, most of which he was unconscious. So how come you care so damn much already?

You go through your usual routine. Making food, going outside, meeting friends, attending therapy, working on your mind and body. You do everything you did the past few weeks that helped you get back to your feet after Phillip but the worry for Simon won’t fade. It’s always there in the back of your head, a nagging feeling that leaves you thinking about him way more than you probably should.

Is he okay? Are they taking good care of him? Do they take it slow and take his trauma and needs into consideration? Does he have a handler that knows how to help him? How are his wounds?

You feel silly for caring so much about the large hybrid but another pitiful part of you whispers that it might prove that you’re a good person. Caring so much about someone you barely know surely proves that you have a good heart.

Then there’s another part that admonishes you for thinking that. No truly good person would think about whether their actions or thoughts make them a good person and you grow ashamed again. You try to shove all those thoughts somewhere in a corner of your mind where you don’t have to hear them constantly. The back and forth driving you insane without coming up with any conclusive answer.

You worry about him. That’s how it is. You care There is nothing you can do to change that except try not to think about him so much. But honestly you don’t want to stop thinking about him. Something about Simon struck your heart and you feel the need to figure out what.

You sigh as you nurse your mug with your favourite hot beverage in it, taking another slow sip savoring the taste. Has Simon ever had a drink like this? You sigh. Here you go again, thinking about the malinois hybrid without pause.

You let your head fall back against the backrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling. When did your home start feeling more like a self inflicted prison? There’s a restlessness growing in you. It’s starting deep in your stomach and spreads its way through your limbs making you bounce your knee until you almost spill your drink jerking your head back up to safe it at the last second.

Why did you go back to medical leave? You had been more than willing to return for Simon’s case. But as soon as he left you went back home like a snail hiding in it’s shell. You rest your elbows on your knees and let your head hang forward the muscles of your neck stretching uncomfortably.

You’re a damn coward. Resting at home. It doesn’t feel like healing anymore it feels like you’re running away. Running from the center and all the hybrids it houses. You hate it, hate Phillip for ruining all dog hybrids with just one attack. Why does he have the power to make you afraid of all of them. It’s not fair.

Do the others think you’re a coward as well? Hiding at home again after you came back for a week. What is management thinking? That you could return for an emergency but not for the relative calmness of every day? What will happen if you don’t come back quick enough for them? Will you lose your job? Would they actually fire you over something like this?

Just like that sitting at home feels like wasted time. Every minute spent on your couch is a minute you could be working and trying to get over your fear. And suddenly your certain that you have to return to work if you want to make further progress.

Additionally to your sudden urgency to just do something instead of sitting at home and licking your wounds the thought of everyone secretly judging your return to absence makes you feel itchy. But it’s your own judgment makes you the most uncomfortable. You can’t escape your own thoughts that remind you how cowardly you’re behaving. How you’re wasting away thinking about a hybrid who never even was your charge.

Thinking about a hybrid who you foolishly put a lot of hope into.

It makes no logical sense that you feel like Simon was your way back to working with hybrids. You had been sure that working with a problem hybrid would be the worst thing that could happen to you. You had been sure it would make you feel worse and undo everything you’ve achieved in therapy so far.

Now it feels like anyone other than the problem hybrid will hinder your recovery.

For a moment you feel selfish for wanting to gain something out of helping a hybrid. How can you think like that? Even if working with one stops your progress it would be worth it if you could help them. It’s not their job to help you. You’re supposed to help them, that’s what you’re being paid for, dammit. Helping them without gaining anything should be all you want.

Still it would be the best case scenario if working with one would also allow you to slowly get used to them again. It would be nice if the hybrid could help you too. And you decide that you can allow yourself that little bit of selfishness.

But even if that best case scenario were to happen. Before you can get anyone elses help you’ll have to want to help yourself.

The days of peacefully sitting on your couch letting the world outside continue to turn while you exist in your own little reality that consists of your home and the doctors office are over. You’ve had enough time off. It’s time to return to work. If you don’t your own thoughts that continue to run in circles will drive you insane.

No matter how often you dissect what happened with Phillip it won’t change what happened and maybe it’s time to accept that.

It’s probably best if you go back to the center today, before you lose your drive. And what better way to return than just going for lunch. Nice and casual. Nothing scary. At least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself of as your palms immediately begin getting sweaty.

It’s tiring always being scared and even if it scares you more to go back, at least you’re doing something. You can’t take another second of sitting at home waiting to feel better while doing nothing.

A sudden burst of energy has you rushing all over your home while you get ready and sprint out of your front door before your nerves catch up to you.

You try your hardest not to second guess yourself as your unsteady hands hold the access card against the entrance of the compound. It opens with a beep and you rush through. When you stand in front of the main building you freeze. Your hands are shaking and you will yourself to breathe deeply.

There will be a lot of hybrids at the cafeteria, and suddenly your feet wont take another step. Flashes of teeth, dripping with vicious saliva, snapping and tearing at you appear in your mind. You’re certain that there’s an aggressive hybrid growling behind you but when you turn there’s no one there. Wincing you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to make you feel some semblance of safety.

You’ve already managed to come here and turning around to go back home feels like defeat. You can already taste it’s bitter tang just from thinking about not going through with your plan. For a moment you chew on your lower lip, indecisive then you look up at the building. Liz should be working right now. Maybe she’s willing to have her break with you.

Taking two steps at once, you rush up the stairs hoping you don’t meet anyone, especially no hybrid before you reach Liz’ office. Your heart pumps hectically while you strain your ears to make sure you’ll hear approaching steps over your harsh breathing. You’re lucky, getting there without running into anyone and you quickly slip inside without knocking.

Your heart swells at the way Liz positively beams at your appearance. It should not surprise you as much as it does when she immediately takes her break so she can go to the cafeteria with you. The way she links her arm with yours is so easy and natural that it makes you gulp suppressing the strong urge to hide behind her.

You grow more and more tense the closer you get to the cafeteria. Liz chattering fading to the background even if it’s her attempt to distract you. There are two hybrids and their handlers joining your direction. Luckily they’re concentrated on their handlers and the promise of food after training. The two of them don’t even give you any attention besides a quick glance.

When you realize that they won’t attack, you relax minutely. Everything is okay, you’re okay. The hybrids at the center are all friendly. Usually.

Aggressive Hybrids are usually kept on leash. There’s various reasons why a handler might decide to keep their charge on a leash and none of the handlers here would let an aggressive hybrid roam free.

You almost manage to gain some control over your fear until you hear a sudden bark behind you. It’s loud and startling and you can feel your heart jump painfully in your chest.

You rip your arm away from Liz, whipping around. Fear clogs your throat and you can feel your eyes watering in sheer panic.

A golden retriever hybrid is running at you his steps slightly uneven. Where his left leg should be is a prosthetic attached but it does nothing to slow him down. His handler is further down the hallway and from the leash that loosely hangs from the hybrids collar it’s evident that he ripped himself free from his handlers hold.

His ears are perked up and flop with every step, his face lit up with obvious joy but it doesn’t help the terror that floods through you at the sight of him running at you. A very faint voice reminds you that you know this hybrid and he wouldn’t hurt you, but that voice is easily silence by the dread that overpowers everything.

He stretches his arms out to the side and Liz takes a step forward.

Before he reaches you, or Liz can step into his way you thrust out your hand out in front of yourself in sheer desperation.

“STOP!”

Alex skids to a halt like he just ran against a wall, having to shift his weight so he doesn’t fall. The prosthetic makes an awful screeching noise as it scrapes over the floor. His ears droop and his tail halts mid wag, uncertain what just happened. You’d feel bad at the obvious hurt in his expression if you weren’t so desperately harnessing your fear to shove it back into the dark corner it crawled from.

Panic squeezes your lungs and denies you access to your own breaths. You think you hear Liz tell Alex’ handler to wait when he goes to grab Alex’ leash but you concentrate on regulating your wheezing breaths, your hand still outstretched to halt Alex.

The golden hybrid looks at you and takes a few small steps on the spot he’s glued to. His nostrils flare and he cocks his head at you.

“You’re afraid of me?” He half asks half states and the devastation in his voice rips your heart right in two. A whine makes its way from his chest and you shake your head. You panic retreating at the need to reassure and calm the hybrid. He did nothing wrong and here you are, hurting him by panicking.

“No! I’m not scared of you.” You say even if you’re not sure whether that’s true. But you need to say something, anything to stop the hurt in his eyes. He cocks his head at you in question.

“Just got spooked from the way your ran at me.”

He visibly perks back up at that, his tail slowly starting to wag again even if it’s decidedly less enthusiastic than before. Then it slowly gains momentum, getting quicker and stronger until his entire body wriggles with his joy and the sight steals a small smile from you.

“I only wanted to hug you. I haven’t seen you in forever. I promise I won’t rush. May I hug you?” He asks with so much hope in his voice that you can’t say no.

Briefly you scan his body language, finding nothing but excitement and restraint so you nod even if the way your blood rushes through you is almost painful.

Alex stays true to his word, slowly steps forward, opening his arms for you and waits until you mirror the gesture. Then he wraps his bulky frame around you, squeezing you to his chest. Immediately he pushes his face against you and takes a deep breath, smelling you. His mustache tickles you and you squirm giggling inadvertently.

He rumbles deep in his chest, huffs in displeasure at your movements which only makes you giggle and squirm more. Your fear slowly retracts its claws from your chest, hissing in displeasure at your entire being remembering Alex as safe.

You can feel him relax right along with you. Until all that is left is warmth and contentment. The close contact to him after weeks of staying away as far as possible from any and all hybrids fills your chest with warmth choking you up slightly. After you allow yourself to bask in his hug for as long as you deem acceptable and after you swallow your tears back down, you step back and shake your head at him fondly.

“You know that this is exactly why you’re still on leash. Always so easily distracted rushing off to investigate whatever scent you caught. Although I’m honored I’m the distraction this time.”

He folds his ears back and the chuckle of his handler reminds you of his and Liz presence. The man, Chad, steps forward and gently cuffs the back of Alex head. The hybrid playfully snaps in the direction of his fingers. You nearly flinch until you remind yourself that this is Alex and he’s just playing.

“Lucky for him we’re not training right now and you’re a very special distraction. It’s good to see you again.”

You remember the day you left Alex as his charge, a mixture of pride and pain in your chest. You’d worked months with Alex after he lost his leg in an explosion during a mission. You’d helped him regain his agility and confidence and it was only normal that you developed a deep bond with the hybrid.

It was always a happy occasion when a hybrid got to go back to having a work handler and you shake Chads outstretched hand with a warm smile. As you make your way into the cafeteria you try to concentrate on Alex and his handler, who’s taken his leash in hand again.

“We get to go back to the real work next week.” Alex tells you puffing his chest and pride blooms in your own chest. You know how much his work means to him and it will be great to see him leave the center after a year and a half of working hard to get back in shape. Still the thought stings a little.

You’ll miss him. He’s been one of your favorite charges and even after you left him in Chad’s capable hands - so they could work and train to become a team while Alex fully regained his abilities - it was nice to meet him in the hallways and outside on the training grounds.

You try to concentrate on the joy instead. He’ll get to go back to doing what he loves and you wonder when you’ll be able to do the same. With the way you currently need to check every hybrid around you for any sign of aggression you don’t see any possibility of you taking on a new charge soon.

With Simon it had been easy. He’d been an emergency which left not enough time to think, to doubt, to get lost in your fear. Now that he’s gone you have too much time to cook up all the worst case scenarios in your head again.

While you try to have lunch without always looking around like a spooked rabbit you get to watch Chad and Alex interact and their easy camaraderie and banter makes you jealous. It makes you overly aware of the fact that you’re unable to interact with a hybrid like that at the moment.

But you love this job. You love working with them and helping them and developing all these bonds. Harshly you stab your fork into the food. Even if it takes forever, you will be able to do it again.

As if to mock you the scar on your shoulder throbs at the aggressive movement and you subconsciously reach up, pressing against it. Alex turns his head towards you from his place besides you. You give him a small tight lipped smile.

He says nothing, but under the table he moves his leg until his thigh touches you and you stare down at the contact.

The next day you join Alex and Chad while training at their insistence the day before. They’re all too eager to show off their hard work to you and it’s almost mesmerizing the way they clear the obstacle course together.

The centers agility course is a jungle of platforms that are raised over the ground with obstacles in between. The platforms vary from the size of your hand to a square meter and some are slanted to test the balance.

They can be roughly divided into two heights one being a few centimeters above the ground while the second level is mostly at two meters with platforms of varying heights in between. There is no designated path through the course which allows a handler to challenge a hybrid with new angles at already well known obstacles.

The slight tugs Chad gives on the leash help Alex to find the right footing while he concentrates on sniffing out the hidden object. You.

You’re crouched behind an obstacle that’s on the second level, keeping out of sight. You peek at the pair of them moving through the course stopping at a point where you doubled back to confuse Alex.

The single minded focus of the hybrid is admirable but also dangerous out in the field. In the field concentrating on nothing besides what he’s supposed to sniff out means running into the line of fire, stepping onto a contact mine or whatever other horrible things wait for them in the field. That is why he’s connected to Chad with the leash.

You almost shout a warning, your heart leaping into your throat, when Alex lifts his head to track your scent not watching the small platforms under his feet. You can already see his foot miss the next platform but Chad gives a gentle tug and Alex rights his direction without looking down.

His foot finds the platform and you exhale heavily with relief. You can only continue watching in awe. You’d known that Chad was a good handler. While working with Philip you had often seen the two of them train but you always had your own hybrid to concentrate on so you never got to appreciate the incredible team these two make.

Alex finds you easily while Chad watches over him, clearing his path, making sure he doesn’t get hurt while he concentrates on his work and when Alex finds you in record time, you can’t help but clap and holler in excitement.

Chad ruffles Alex hair and the golden retriever hybrid beams with pride. His tail wags a mile a minute and when you’re all back down on the ground he does a few silly circles on the spot giving an excited bark which makes Chad laugh.

A deep feeling of peace settles over you. This is what it’s supposed to be like. A soft smile sneaks onto your lips. Watching Chad and Alex is weirdly healing, reminding you of what a healthy hybrid handler relationship looks like. You have been able to build one with every charge you’ve had besides Phillip. And with him it wasn’t because you didn’t try.

For the first time fear isn’t the first emotion bubbling up when you think about Phillip. This time it’s sadness. In his chase for his independence he sold his soul to someone else. But you don’t think that the proud hybrid realized that. He probably didn’t realize that the gesture of attacking you was empty considering the reasons for it. It proved jack shit. But hey at least he got what he wanted in the end.

Even that thought doesn’t chase the sadness away. So you concentrate back on Chad and Alex and you realize you’re a little less frustrated with yourself when you go to bed that evening. You got to work with a hybrid again and it had went well. Things will get better after all.

After the day you spent with Alex you come back to work for good. You do not have your own charge at the moment but you try to be useful in every way you can. Instead of working with a hybrid you start helping with the equipment, running errands and giving the other handlers advice that you feel not qualified to give considering how long you’ve been absent and the reason for your absence.

The way you try to avoid running into hybrids makes you feel ashamed of yourself once more but you don’t have it in you to just casually cross paths with them. It’s so stupid, the way one hybrid ruined every hybrid for you. You’re determined to change that, to not see a threat in every hybrid but maybe… maybe not today.

You duck around the corner as you spot a hybrid walking down the hallway with her handler and press yourself against the wall counting down from ten to calm yourself. It’s frustrating as hell that interacting with Alex didn’t magically heal you.

Why could one hybrid not heal the wounds of one other hybrid? Your pulse still jumps at every hybrid you see. You still try to hide instead of normally passing them. And you grow frustrated with yourself. Healing sucks. It’s hard to understand why books and movies always seem to picture it as this magical beautiful journey when most of the time it feels like running in circles and standing in your own way.

How would things be if Simon was still here? Would you walk the hallways unafraid with his large form looming next to you? Maybe if he’d become your charge you would feel better already.

You shake your head. Thinking about that doesn’t help you, you try to remind yourself. Simon’s in England and there isn’t anything you can do.

You peek around the corner, seeing that the hybrid is gone you continue on your way, glad that the tiles help you hear when someone’s approaching. You look at the stack of papers in your arms and almost scoff at yourself. Running errands instead of doing what you actually get paid for.

But with Simon gone you don’t know how you’re supposed to jump into the deep end and take the position as a handler again.

You should have known. You should have known it would come back to bite you in the ass that you didn’t sign the handler agreement. Maybe with that you could have been transferred with Simon and stayed by his side for the time it will take for him to be able to go back to active duty.

Apparently the Doc had asked for the papers that prove that Simon is your charge so she could have you called to the center before he left. When she called the office they had to tell her that no such papers were signed.

You’re lucky that the Doc hasn’t told anyone that you lied to gain access to his medical report. At least you don’t think she has or someone would have approached you about it by now. It still might happen and you’re unsure whether you should talk to her about it before you possibly get a lawsuit.

Thinking about that does nothing to calm your racing heart and you almost flee inside Liz’ office when it comes into view as if her presence will shield you from your own thoughts and feelings as well.

You drop the stack of papers on her desk and she sighs, pushing up her glasses and meets you eyes.

“I should probably thank you but honestly, how dare you bring this to me instead of accidentally spilling coffee all over them.”

Hearing Liz who enjoys the office work say something like that startles a laugh out of you and she grins.

“One of those days?” You ask and she nods, stretches her arms over her head and groans when her back audibly pops.

She takes her smoothie and slurps it through her straw. “You know I looked into it for you. But there is no way for us to obtain any information on Simon’s well being. I’m sorry.”

You plop down into the empty chair before her desk and crane your neck until you’re staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I already expected that. If only I had signed those damned papers.”

You catch Liz shrug out of your peripheral vision. “Well with the English laws being the way they are it’s not certain that would have done anything either.”

Lazily you let your head roll forward. “Hm?”

“Ah, right. You only do the hands on work. The hybrid-handler laws in England demand the hybrid to sign an agreement too for the handler-hybrid relationship to have legal effect. So your signature alone would probably not give you any information on him anyway.”

“Oh.” You think about it. You know the English laws are different but you never looked into it since they don’t concern you, at least they never did until now. Either way you will never know what’s become of Simon and it frustrates you.

“Well, it is what it is.” You say resigned and put your hands on your knees to push yourself up. If only you could mean that. “Back to running errands I go.”

Before you can leave the room Liz’ voice stops you. “You have to take on a charge again at some point.”

You half turn to her smiling, even though you don’t feel like smiling at all. “Exactly. ‘At some point.’ That point is not now. It’s barely been a few days of me being back.”

She shakes her head at you and you’d be embarrassed or angry at her disappointed expression but you know it’s because she cares. “Why are you so damn hesitant? You were fully ready to take Simon as charge?”

You purse your lips in thought, turning to her fully. “With him it was easy. I didn’t have time to imagine all the things that could go wrong. Just ‘bam here’s this hybrid you have to take care of’. Now that he’s gone I have too much time to think about what it means to take on a new charge.”

Liz clicks her tongue. “Maybe I’ll just drop a hybrid at your doorstep so you don’t have time to think.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” She says dryly and you’re not sure if she’s still joking. So you laugh it off while fleeing her office before she decides to make any more valid points.

That better have been a joke or you’d strangle her. And then thank her because thinking about it - dropping a hybrid at your doorstep might actually work. Your close the door, turn to walk back down the hallway and almost walk into Meg from HR.

“Oh good. I was looking for you.”

You gulp. Oh no. Did the Doc rat you out after all? Would they fire you? Shit. You rub your palms against your pants. Did you do anything wrong? What if she knows you lied to get the Doc to talk about Simon? Would they file a lawsuit because of something like that?

“Follow me.” She says curtly and you nod, too startled and scared to get a simple yes out. Walking behind her through the hallway makes you feel like you’re walking to your own execution and you thank whoever is listening that you don’t run into any hybrids. You’re not sure your heart could handle any more anxiety.

The clicking of her door closing while she indicates for you to sit down at her desk sounds like a threat and when you sit you rub your sweaty palms against your thighs.

She sits down on her side of the desk and clicks something on her computer then she looks at you seriously and you feel like you’ll be in serious trouble in a few second. Hopefully you won’t cry, that would be embarrassing.

She sighs. “Do you remember the aggressive hybrid you were called in for from your leave?”

You nod and this time you manage to weakly say: “Yes.” Oh no. Oh no no no no. Pleas no.

She taps a pen against her chin and studies you. “You know we really hoped you could take another charge soon so management isn’t the happiest about it but we were promised a substitute and compensation so we decided to leave it up to you.”

Is she doing this on purpose? Dragging it out? What substitute? What the hell is going on?

“We got a request for you from the center in England he is currently at. They want you to work there with him for however long it takes to get him back on his feet. You’re one of our best even if you’re currently not exactly fitting your job description. I heard you got along well with him.” Something in her gaze softens at her last statement and you release your held breath a heavy weight dropping off your shoulders.

She doesn’t know about the papers. It feels like your heart can finally get a break. But then everything she said hits you and you start nervously bouncing your leg. They requested you? You’re sure they have more than enough handlers at the center he’s currently at. Surely they have competent personnel?

“Why… did they request me?” You carefully ask, not sure you’re allowed to ask any questions. Which is absurd if you think about it because of course you’re allowed to ask questions if she specifically called you to her office to give you a choice.

She purses her lips and twirls the pen in her fingers. “Apparently he’s giving them trouble. They don’t know what to do and found out he was more comfortable with you. Usually they would just give a problematic hybrid like him a medical discharge from his duties but apparently he’s a big enough asset for them to reach out to us.”

You nod trying to understand. What happened? Things hadn’t looked that bad. What had happened that Simon is once again deemed a problematic? Are you willing to go to England for an unknown amount of time because they ask you to? It might be months until he’s rehabilitated.

Your thoughts return to the few moments you had with him. You remember him in the bath, the way he’d let you dry his hair. The way you felt like you might overcome your fear with him. Maybe you don’t have to try with another hybrid. Maybe Simon is meant to be your charge so you can both help each other. This might be what you’ve been waiting for without knowing.

You’re a bit unsettled by how quick you’ve come to your decision. You should probably think this through more but you’d sign the handler papers in a heartbeat. That reminds you…

“What about him? Don’t the laws in England demand that he agrees with me being his handler?”

She nods, rifles through a stack of paper on her table and finally finds what she’s looking for. She folds the stapled stack of papers open on the last page and slides it over her desk towards you. At the bottom two lines for signatures sit.

“He already signed.”

You stare at the line where his name sits in neat block writing. You can’t help yourself but run your finger over it. Your heart thumps hectically in your chest. He already agreed to you being his handler. All you have to do is sign as well. You try to come up with all the logical questions and things that should make you hesitate.

“What about housing and stuff?” You hate how you say ‘stuff’ like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Your thoughts are rushing. You have a hard time getting a hold of them. Taking care of contracts and the whole organizational stuff was never your strong suit. Your strong suit is working with hybrids, at least you thought so until Phillip. But the fact that Simon apparently wants you as his handler makes the smallest bit of confidence grow.

They want you in England because whatever happened makes them think you can help him. Whatever he said makes them think you’re who they have to turn to. You can do this. This is also what the hybrid wants. What will happen to Simon if you refuse?

Meg rips you from your thoughts. “They board and lodge their staff if they chose to live on site.”

You nod and then hold your hand out for the pen.

“Are you sure?” Meg asks and hesitantly gives in to you. You scribble your signature on the line next to Simon’s.

“Yes.” You say. Actually you aren’t sure at all. It’s probably stupid to sign so quickly when you haven’t asked a lot of important questions but if you don’t sign now you’ll think about it and then fear will claw at your chest and prevent you from going for it. Maybe it’s stupid and reckless. But it feels right.

Meg shrugs and takes the paper with your signature back. “Alright. Simon Riley is officially your new charge. They want you over there as quickly as possible so you should take the earliest flight you can. We’ll prepare your papers and request your substitute.”

Liz is gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles are stark white. Your knee is bouncing again and she glances at you from the corner of her eyes every now and then. She insisted on driving you to the airport and you’re very thankful despite arguing at first that she doesn’t have to.

“What is it?” You ask and now both your legs are bouncing.

Her hands shift on the wheel before gripping hard again. “Are you sure about this?”

You sigh and put your face in your hands. “No.” You mumble. She has the audacity to laugh at that. You shoot her a look and then start laughing too. What the hell are you doing? You’re about to fly to a whole other continent for a hybrid you don’t even really know.

She shrugs but her hands relax. “We can still cancel it all. I’ll kidnap you, no one will ever know that you tucked your tail and ran.”

That makes you laugh harder and you shake your head resting it back against the headrest. “I feel insane for this but I couldn’t say no. Maybe I’ll end up regretting this but maybe… Maybe everything will work out? What if this is what I need? A problem hybrid in a whole other country who wants me as his handler.”

Liz purses her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never known you to be so impulsive but if you feel like you have to do this I won’t stop you. But if I receive word that you want to come back and don’t want to do this after all, I’ll terminate the contract and personally come get your ass back to the US.”

You snort at that but something in you calms down. Despite her joking tone you know that she means every word. You look at her for a while and it hits you that you don’t know how long you’ll be in England. Who knows when you’ll be in the same room as her again.

“Thank you.” You say quietly and Liz just nods.

The rest of the ride is comfortably quiet.

At the airport she squeezes you tightly and helps you with your luggage. Before you know it you’re on the plane and taking off. Your whole body starts getting jittery with nerves. You breathe deeply remembering one of the exercises your therapist gave you. She offered to keep holding your sessions online and you’re incredibly thankful for it.

You manage to calm down during the flight and even sneak in a nap, waking up with a racing heart to the announcement that the plane is on approach. As soon as you touch ground and have permission to use your phone you text Liz to let her know that you landed safely.

Half an hour later you’re in a cab going for the rehabilitation center you’ll stay at for an unknown amount of time. You wipe your hands on your pants thankful that the cab driver doesn’t try to make conversation so you can look out the window at the darkness of the evening.

It’s weird to think about how much more of the day Liz has left while it’s already very late evening here.

The street lights illuminate parts of the road and you feel like you’re dying inside from all the uncertainty of what is to come. You wish the drive would never end so you can’t arrive at the center. Alternatively you’d be happy with a concise list of what exactly will happen and who exactly you’ll meet. You get neither an endless ride nor a list. Sooner than you’d like the cab stops and you’re left with your gigantic luggage on the sidewalk.

You sincerely hope no one watches the awkward waddle you do while dragging your heavy bag with you to the front gate. Your wishes go unnoticed because someone approaches you quickly and you straighten up your heart jumping into your throat.

When the person is finally close enough for you to make them out clearly your breath hitches and you can’t help but look at him with wide eyes. He’s a snake hybrid. You’ve never seen one before and even if you’re aware of how rude it is you can’t stop staring.

“Welcome! You’re the handler from America, right?” He greets you and you gape at him nodding. He has a split tongue. The street lamps illuminate him dimly and if you aren’t mistaken the faint outline of scales is visible at his temples and his jaw.

He waits a moment and then slightly squirms under your scrutiny. “Ah. Am I your first snake hybrid?”

That manages to shake you out of it and you nod mumbling an apology. He easily hoists up your baggage onto his shoulder and opens a door in the gate with a key card.

“Don’t worry. I get that reaction with most people. We’re all really happy that you’re here. Simon has been… difficult to say the least.” The snake hybrid goes on and you can’t help but wonder how he knows so much. Who is he? Is he the companion hybrid of one of the handlers here?

You’re staring again while you follow him and his shoulders tense. “Oh! I forgot to introduce myself. How silly. I’m Nathair but please call me Nate.”

You give him your name in return and he stops for a moment to extend his hand for you to shake before continuing his way towards a large building. Before you can get a good look at the way it’s structured Nate leads you through the entrance door and towards a reception desk.

Smoothly he slides behind it sorting some papers and putting them in a folder then he gets a key card and stands again. He extends the folder to you and you take it before Nathair rounds the desk again, takes up your luggage once more and makes his way down a hallway. You hurry to follow.

“Those are some papers we need signed, some information like a map and the rules of our center. I also included Simon’s file.”

Suddenly your interest is piqued. “Where is he?”

Nate turns down another hallway and you already know it will take a while before you’re comfortable with the layout of the center. Thank god for the map.

“He’s being kept in a safety room where he will stay until he is ready to join you.”

“Join me?” You have to jog a few steps to keep up with Nate’s quick pace and when he notices he slows down. Here in the light of the building you can get a good look at him.

He’s magnificent. Broad shoulders, copper coloured hair and a dusting of dark reddish brows freckles that get denser towards his temples and fade into a few scattered scales. His skin is pale and along his jaw fading down his neck you can make out some more scales.

His eyes are big and round and something about them is slightly off. You can’t say exactly what it is though. The hands which are holding up your luggage are strong but slender and on the back of them you can once again see reddish brown scales disappear under his sleeves.

“Yes. Join you. Hybrids and handlers share their rooms here but with Simon being the way he is we didn’t deem it safe enough to bring him to the general housing wing yet. “

Suddenly you feel stupid again. You really agreed too quickly without enough information. You didn’t even know about the rooming situation. You straighten your shoulders. It’s too late now and it’s not like you would decide differently if you were given the choice again.

“This one’s yours.” Nate finally stops in front of a door. Right on the door, engraved in a small plastic plate, is your name. You swallow nervously as Nate unlocks it and puts your baggage down inside against the wall next to the entrance.

You walk in and a small smile blooms on your face. It’s cosy. Not so small that it feels cramped but not big enough to make you feel lost in it either. The curtains are drawn over the windows and there is even a small kitchenette cramped into the corner next to one of the windows.

On the right side nestled into a corner is a decently sized desk and on the left opposite to it is the bed pushed against the wall.

You walk in looking through an open door on the right side at the end of the room. It’s the bathroom. At the far end of the tiled room you see another door. Once you’ve scanned every corner you turn back to ask Nate about the door and you catch him with his split tongue out. He blushes a brilliant red under his freckles and lifts his hand to rub the back of his head.

“Ah… sorry. I was just smelling the room.” He sheepishly admits and you cock your head at him in curiosity.

“I smell better with my mouth and tongue than I do with my nose and I wanted to get your scent.”

You laugh at the embarrassed expression on his face and he turns even redder which makes you shake your head and put your hands up. “No, no! I’m not laughing at you!”

You take a step in his direction. “Nate, I work with dog hybrids for a living. I’m used to being smelled.”

He seems taken aback by that then he grins. “Do you mind then?”

You shake your head and Nate takes a step closer his split tongue testing the air for a few moments before he steps back and nods. “Thank you. Not knowing how someone smells feels like I don’t fully know who they are. Like I never saw a their face.”

You nod. “If I say I understand that I’d be lying because I obviously do not experience these things like you do. But it makes sense, no need to be embarrassed.”

He seems happy with that and looks around the room. His eyes settle on another door in the middle of the right wall. He steps towards it.

“Through this you’ll get to Simon’s room. It’s exactly the same as yours just mirrored. His room also shares the bathroom with yours.”

Ah that’s the other door you noticed in the bathroom. Curiously you open it and look into Simon’s room. Just like Nate says it’s a perfectly mirrored version of yours. But it’s empty and suddenly you can’t stay a moment longer here without having seen Simon. You need to make sure he’s okay.

“Nate. Where is Simon? Can I see him?”

The snake hybrid once again scratches the back of his head. “It’s already late.”

“Please. I need to know he’s okay. I came all this way specifically for him.”

Nate looks at you for a long moment and whatever he sees in your expression makes him sigh and relent.

Your ribcage hurts from the violent beats of your heart as you follow Nate through the building. He leads you down so many turns that you’re sure you won’t find your way back on your own.

The fact that all the hallways look basically the same doesn’t help your orientation but all you think about is seeing Simon again. He’s probably mostly healed by now. Will he be excited to see you? After all he signed the agreement first.

Nate leads you down the corridor to a seeming dead end but when you get closer you see that there is actually a door at the end. You both stop before it and the snake hybrid gets his key card.

“Would you like me to go in first and make sure he’s calm?” He asks and you immediately shake your head.

“It will be fine.”

Nate presses his lips into a thin line but nods and unlocks the door. You wipe your palms on your pants the excitement of seeing him again almost overwhelming you. You’re here and he is here and everything will be fine.

The door opens and you step into the room. Simon’s on his feet at the other end and oh, he looks spectacular. You’ve been separated long enough that his health noticeably progressed during that time.

His ears perk forward and Nate slips into the room besides you, closing the door.

Seeing Simon standing on his own without any struggle fills you with relief and your eyes with tears. Physically he already looks so much better than you remember him and the joy of that realization almost makes you shake.

“It’s you.” He rumbles and you cannot restrain yourself anymore taking hasty steps in his direction. Giddy that he’s alive and on his feet and looks well. Everything will work out after all. You’ll take care of each other.

You realize your mistake too late, blinded by the happiness. Time seems to almost slow to a halt. For a moment Simon’s eyes widen, then his tail bristles and his ears press against his head, his lips peel back revealing his dangerous canines.

Your heart stops but you’re mere steps from him and before you can stop the malinois hybrid charges the last steps that separate you.

“No!” Nate shouts somewhere behind you but you barely hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Simon barrels into you, throwing you to the floor and your head cracks against the tiles making pain explode all over the back of it. Simon’s honey coloured eyes are narrowed in aggression and his growl rattles your bones. His big body presses you against the cold hard floor uncomfortably. Every bone aching from the fall.

His teeth flash and you barely have the time to throw up your arms, crossing them in front of you to shield your face and neck. His fangs sink into your forearm. The intensity of the pain almost makes you cry out and you grunt.

Your eyes widen as you look up at Simon’s expression, nose scrunched as he grinds his teeth deeper into your arm until you feel like he’ll break right through your bones. He’s growling like he wants to kill you. His broad shoulders block out the room behind him. All you can see is his vicious snarl and angry eyes.

For some reason it’s the trickle of blood running down to your elbow that catches your attention. How funny, you think, that your own blood can tickle you like this.

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter three

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie goes to rehab.

Warnings:

Angst, withdrawal, rehab, mention of drugs

Word Count: 3.3k

Eddie had a rough night. He didn’t sleep, spending the night tossing and turning, sweating, running to the bathroom to throw up all night long.

He thought about leaving. He thought about running to his dealer’s and getting high again and putting himself out of his misery. But the thought of having to face you after begging for help then getting high - again - kept him there.

You were right there with him, holding his hair as he got sick, cooling him down with a cold wash cloth. Neither of you slept. He clung to you like a scared child, crying through the pain and begging you to make it stop. You were powerless, crying for your husband as you could do nothing but watch him suffer through the night.

You were making phone calls bright and early, calling all the best rehabs in California to try to get Eddie a spot. You lucked out with the Passages Treatment Center in Malibu, California, where they said they could get him in for detox treatment immediately.

You brought the girls to Gareth and Roz, before rushing home to help Eddie pack a bag and get him into the car. You brought his guitar along just in case. It was a nearly hour long drive there, your heart breaking as Eddie writhed in pain in the passenger seat, having to pull over multiple times for him to be sick.

When you arrived at the rehab center, you were shocked at how fancy the place was. It looked like a mansion, complete with a beautiful pool and garden outside. You carried Eddie’s bag and helped him walk to the front door, where a well-dressed woman and a nurse greeted you both.

“Edward Munson?” She asked, a clipboard in hand that she quickly looked over.

“Eddie,” Eddie corrected her, “but yes.”

She smiled. “Well welcome, Eddie. You can come with us to this room to do the medical evaluation. Your wife can come with you, if you want.”

Eddie clutched your hand tightly, telling you he wanted you with him. You wouldn’t have it any other way, following them to the small room with your standard medical equipment. They had Eddie sit in a seat next to a vitals machine, you taking the seat next to him.

Poor Eddie looked like hell. He never let go of your hand with his left one, his black wedding band cool against your skin in contrast to his sweaty hand. You fiddled with his ring nervously as the well-dressed woman sat behind the desk, the nurse moving to grab the blood pressure cuff.

“So,” she began, as the nurse wrapped the cuff around Eddie’s right arm. “I want to welcome you to Passages, first and foremost. We hope to offer you a comfortable experience, a treatment plan that will set you up for success when you return home. My name is Dr. Roberts. Have you ever been in a program like this?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie said, his awkwardness and fear evident in his voice. “I’ve never…been to rehab before.”

“Well, we’re different from many rehabs in that we take a holistic approach here. We offer the usual counseling and one on one psychiatry sessions, but we also offer massage therapy, acupuncture, yoga and meditation, music therapy, art therapy, and treatment with natural medicines,” she explains. Eddie’s face lit up at the mention of music therapy, which she caught. “Ah, a musician?”

“Yes, my whole life,” Eddie says quickly, the blood pressure cuff inflating on his arm. “I, uh, have a band. Had a band. Corroded Coffin.”

Dr. Roberts smiled. “Ah yes, my son is a fan.”

Eddie laughed lightly. “Really? Maybe I can sign something for him.”

That made her smile even bigger. “I’m sure he would love that.” She opened the file in front of her, flipping the sheets until she found the form she was looking for. “What was his blood pressure?” She asked the nurse.

“122 over 76,” she said. “Slightly elevated.”

Dr. Roberts wrote that down as the nurse put the thermometer in Eddie’s mouth. When it beeped, she said, “100.” She wrote this down as well.

“Eddie, what is your drug of choice?”

“Uh,” Eddie said, shooting you a guilty look. “Heroin, mostly. And cocaine. Oxy, Speed.”

Your stomach hurt as you listened to him speak, but the doctor wrote this information down without judgement. “Meth?”

“Um…a few times. Not really.”

He squeezed your hand harder in his, as if willing you not to leave him. Like he was scared the truth of his addiction would scare you away. You understood the concern, because you felt like you were about to be sick, but you weren’t leaving his side. Your hand lightly rubbed over your belly in a soothing gesture.

“Tell me about your family, Eddie,” she said, a friendly smile on her face as she slid her glasses higher on her nose. “I see you have a lovely wife. Any kids?”

Eddie smiled, looking peaceful for the first time since last night. “Three. Well, soon to be four,” he says, letting go of your hand briefly to place it along with yours on your belly. “We have three girls, 10, 6, and 3. Evie, Rhiannon, and Ivy. Not sure what this one will be yet.” He gently rubs affectionate circles on your stomach.

The doctor smiled at him, writing more notes on her paper. “It sounds like you have a beautiful life you’d like to get back to. I’m sure you want to be healthy for your girls.”

Eddie’s eyes had already been watering, his nose running from the withdrawal, but a tear escaped down his cheek at her words. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good. We hope to help you achieve that here,” she said. “Now, I’m going to go down a list of opiate withdrawal symptoms, and you let me know if you’re experiencing them, okay?”

Eddie nodded, and she began going down the list. Insomnia? Yes. Sweating? Obviously a yes. Watery eyes and running nose? Yes and yes. Pain? Fuck yes. Nausea and vomiting? Big yes.

“It sounds like you’re experiencing severe acute withdrawal,” she said seriously. “We can help you get through this stage with a medication called Suboxone. It affects the same area of your brian as heroin does, without the…feelings that heroin provides. So it eases you through the symptoms and cravings without actually making you feel high.”

Eddie nodded again. That sounded great - to not have to suffer like this anymore without going back to heroin? It sounded perfect. “Yeah, that…that sounds good.”

“Have you ever been in a substance abuse treatment program before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental health condition?” She continued.

“No, not that I know of.”

“History of substance abuse in your family?”

“Um…my dad,” he said. “But he wasn’t really around at all.”

She marked that down. “Any legal trouble? Criminal or arrest history?”

Eddie looked down awkwardly at that question. “Uh, I’ve been arrested a few times. Disorderly conduct, public intoxication, possession.”

“Possession of what?”

“Weed. Cocaine.”

She began writing again. “Are these ongoing legal troubles or are they closed?”

“They’re settled.”

“Alright, good,” she said. “Now…how has your addiction impacted your life and your family?”

Eddie sighed. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, and it was as if you could feel his shame from where you sat. “It’s a disaster. My marriage is dying because of me. Because I can’t stop, or even just keep it out of the house. I haven’t seen my kids in what feels like forever. I miss them, but they’re scared of me. All they’ve seen of me for months is me high off my ass - sorry for the language - and it freaks them out. I don’t blame them. I remember being scared of my dad, too.” He sniffled, and you weren’t sure if it was from the runny nose or if he was really crying. “My band broke up because of me. I ruined the dreams of all my friends because I was selfish. My friends, who have been with me since middle school, are now sick of me. Sick of taking care of me, sick of putting up with me, sick of me fucking everything up.”

Dr. Roberts wrote all of this down on her papers, the look on her face one of sympathy. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all this. But here we hope to help you repair those relationships. We offer marriage counseling, as well as counseling with any other friends or family whose relationships you feel you need to work on.”

Eddie nodded. That sounded good to the both of you. You reached for Eddie’s hand again and squeezed it in your own.

Dr. Roberts went on about the amenities they offered, how Eddie would have a private suite and was welcome to bring his guitar to work on music while he was there. They would be starting with detox treatment right away, prescribing the Suboxone to help him through the life-threatening withdrawal symptoms.

Then, it was time to say goodbye. Eddie embraced you tightly, burying his face in your neck as you held him back just as tightly, brushing your fingers through his hair soothingly.

“I love you,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I think this is going to be really good for us.”

“I love you too,” he said, clinging to you even tighter. “I’m going to get better for you and the girls and this baby. I promise.” He lifted his head to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I know you will.” You laid your head on his chest, imagining just for a moment that things were normal. Finally Eddie pulled back, reluctantly leaving the embrace. He squeezed your hands and gave you a small smile before picking up his bag and guitar case and turning to follow the doctor into the facility.

You were crying as you left, heartbroken to be leaving Eddie behind but grateful for the help he would hopefully be getting. You walked back out to the car, taking the time to pull yourself together in the driver’s seat before heading home to pick up the girls and get back to life as usual, without Eddie.

Rehab wasn’t so bad. Once detox was over, Eddie spent most of his days writing music, playing around with his guitar in between sessions with his care team. It was a soothing environment, and he found he didn’t mind it. The only thing he hated was being away from you and his girls. He called every day, talking to you for as long as possible then letting the girls pass the phone back and forth.

Eddie practically had three albums worth of songs written by the time he’d been there for three weeks. Now it was time for the first family visit, and he was nervous.

He looked at himself in the mirror, combing through his curls and making himself look as nice for you as possible. He wore his favorite black jeans, ripped, but that was his usual style. He wore his favorite Metallica tee. He examined his face in the mirror - he looked a lot healthier than the last time you’d seen him. He had gained weight, his dark eye circles gone. He didn’t look like a junkie anymore.

Eddie followed the male nurse - Jake? - down the hall and to the nice room set up for visits. It was bright and sunny, a large window on one wall. It was furnished with a large couch and a few chairs, as well as a large TV on the wall. Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets, beyond nervous for this visit.

He only waited a few minutes before the door opened, and his face immediately brightened as he saw you. You looked absolutely radiant, a sight for sore eyes for sure. You broke out into a huge grin as you saw him, running into his arms. He wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he laughed, feeling total joy. He sat you down, then immediately pulled you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his arms slid around your waist, and he held you tightly after you shared a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, you both looked over each other, taking in the other’s appearance.

“You look great,” you said, tears in your eyes as you saw your husband looking like your husband again. He looked healthy, happy. It made your heart beat hard in your chest just like it did when you first fell in love. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Eddie looked you over, immediately noticing the small bump showing through your shirt. He placed his hand on it softly. “How far along now?”

“9 weeks,” you smiled. “But fourth pregnancy and all, I popped early.”

Eddie laughed lightly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.” He rubbed his hand over your belly. “I’m hoping for a boy this time. But I’ll be happy either way. You know I love my girls.”

You giggled, your hand laying over his. “It would be exciting to have a boy. But you know the girls want another sister.”

“Yeah, I bet. Evie wants another doll to dress up,” he laughed. “Where are my girls?”

“Roz has them,” you said. “I figured I would come in and say hi first. Are you…ready to see them?” You looked nervous, like you were scared for him to see the girls. Or rather, scared for the girls to see him.

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been dying to see them,” he smiled gently. He stroked a hand through your hair, looking at you like he was memorizing every feature. “I want to see them.”

You pulled your phone out, sending a quick text to Roz. Moments later there was a knock at the door, before it opened and the three girls shuffled in. They looked scared, Evie in the middle clutching both Rhiannon and Ivy’s hands. They walked behind you, Rhiannon and Ivy hiding behind their big sister.

“Daddy…?” Evie said cautiously, and Eddie’s heart broke into a million pieces.

Oh god, he thought, my kids really are scared of me.

“Hey, baby girls,” he said, crouching down. “I’ve missed you.”

Evie eyed him warily, looking up to you for guidance. You nodded. “You can give daddy a hug. It’s okay.”

Eddie held his arms out as Evie slowly shuffled forward, her sisters staying behind you. Finally, she collapsed into his arms, tears flowing as he held her.

“I missed you so much, daddy,” she cried into his chest. “Are you still sick?”

Eddie looked up at you, his expression utterly broken. He stroked her hair as he held her tightly. “I’m getting better, baby. For you and your sisters and your momma.”

You gently nudged Rhiannon and Ivy in Eddie’s direction. “Go see daddy, girls. It’s okay.”

The two younger Munsons walked over, joining Evie in Eddie’s embrace. “We miss you,” Rhiannon said, her voice small and sad, completely unlike her. Eddie felt physical pain in his chest, like his despair and shame were so strong the pain was tangible.

He placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Well, I’m here now. I’m getting better. And I’ll be home soon.”

“When?” Rhiannon asked. “We want you home now,” she pouted. “Momma doesn’t play with us as good as you do.”

“Hey!” You protested, pretending to be offended. “I’m lots of fun!”

“She always picks boring old movies,” Rhiannon whispered to Eddie, making him smile. “You let us watch the scary stuff.”

“Yeah, and she says she can’t play on the floor or throw us in the pool, ‘cause of the baby in her belly, she says,” Evie added.

Eddie laughed. “Be kind to your momma. She does her best for you three. And growing a baby is hard work.”

“Where do babies come from anyway?” Rhiannon asked, her brows furrowed. “Sam from school said-“

“Okay!” Eddie said, trying to hide his laughter. “Let’s have this conversation another time, yeah?”

The girls warmed up quickly. They talked Eddie’s ear off, telling him all about school and what they’d been doing at home. Ivy clung to him like she never wanted to leave him, and you dreaded having to say goodbye. After a while Eddie brought his guitar out and played some of the new songs he’d been working on.

When visiting hours were over, the same nurse came back, letting you all know it was time. Eddie hugged each girl for as long as he could, and Ivy cried as you had to pull her away from him. Roz came back and took the girls so you could say goodbye in private.

“How much longer do they think you’ll be here?” You asked him, finger twirling one of his curls as he held you around your waist.

“At least another four weeks,” he said, his face scrunching up in disapproval. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a sad smile on your face. “I just miss you so much. It’s lonely at home without you. Our bed feels so empty. And it’s…tiring, running after the girls when I already have no energy.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he told you. He placed a kiss on your lips. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you too,” you told him. You kissed him one more time and then you had to go, holding onto his hand until you couldn’t anymore. Eddie watched you leave, his chest aching.

The nurse, Jake, began walking him back to his room. They walked in silence for a while, before Jake spoke up.

“I’m a big fan of Corroded Coffin,” he said finally. “You guys rock.”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks, man.”

When they reached Eddie’s door, Jake placed a hand on his arm. Eddie turned to him, confused. Jake leaned in closer, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

“Hey, I can get you stuff in here. Pills, H, whatever you want. No one will find out.”

Eddie looked at him wide eyed. He was just now getting his life back, had just had an amazing visit with his wife and kids. He wasn’t about to throw all that away again. “Uh, no thanks, man. I’m good.”

“Well, just call me if you change your mind.” He slid a piece of paper with his personal cell phone number on it into Eddie’s hand. “The offer stands.”

Eddie watched Jake walk away. He looked down at the number in his hand as he walked into his room. He balled the paper up and went to throw it away - but something stopped him. Something told him to keep it. He sat on his bed and stared at the number. He wasn’t going to call it. But something held it there in his hands.

He couldn’t get rid of it.

The next week, Eddie headed back into his room after his meeting with his psychiatrist. He had wanted to go home soon, but his team was now saying they wanted to keep him for another six weeks. It was bullshit. Eddie was pissed.

He slammed the door to his room, rattling the framed art on the wall. He sat on his bed, head in his hands as he cried. He just wanted to get home, back to his life. As fancy and luxurious as the place was, it was hard. And it was hard staying sober. Especially when he had too much time to think.

Eddie picked up the phone. There was only one person he wanted to call. He listened to the phone ring, his stomach in knots as he willed for an answer.

Finally, a “Hello?” came from the other end.

Eddie took a deep breath. “…Jake?”

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[floral-hex]

Short story, then longer vent after the cut:

Psych keeps scheduling me for telehealth. Psych changed my meds with little consultation. Psych did this on a Friday and didn’t respond to email or calls (while their office was still open for the day), so I spent the weekend grumpy and stressed about meds. Today I set up an appointment with a different psych (for tomorrow, even! Wow, what god did I please to pull off an appointment that soon?).

Still grumpy. Still stressed.

Anyway, had ANOTHER telehealth appointment with my psych on Friday. I hate telehealth. He kept saying we’d eventually do an in person, but then the session would end and I’d get an email confirmation saying the next one was telehealth. Dumb. My counselor/therapist works in the same office and told me the psych basically just works telehealth from home and sits on his laptop scrolling Fox News. Not a very personable guy, made me feel like I was in the principal’s office in our first meeting, but I’m a pushover and just went along with it.

ANYWAY (another anyway), telehealth appointment, only it’s actually just a phone call bc he can’t get his telehealth to work (second time he hasn’t gotten it to work in two months!). So me with my hearing impaired ass had to suffer through a 20 minute phone call where he was, I can only assume, on speakerphone deep in a cave somewhere. He switched around my meds, one to a dose I didn’t want to be on and another brand new that he DID NOT go over with me. Really, no explanations, just “lemme try to prescribe this new med for you. It’s called brbrbrbr and if I can’t get the pharmacy to approve it, I’ll call you back,” and that was IT. No more details. No going over interactions or side effects. Then he was rushing, saying he was late for another appointment. So we hang up, I start researching the new med and there’s lots of red flags. I email an alternative idea. No response. I call back the office and am told he’s gone and his medical assistant is gone. So… fuck it. Called today and asked to see a new psych. No problemo. New guy is at least recommended by my therapist, so I’m a bit more hopeful. No one needs to or should read this, but I wanted to vent a little.

angery. grumpery, even.

[ghoulishlygrey]

Dancing With Death Chapter One

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Josh Washington x Fem!reader

Warning: Explicit Content, MDNI

Read it on ao3 Read Chapter Two

Enjoy!

Word count: 4772 Tags: riding, blowjobs, vaginal sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You brought your hand up to knock at the large door of the Washington Lodge, you pulled your parka a little closer, waiting for any sign of life to let you into the warmth of the multimillion dollar home. It had been a year since Beth and Hannah’s mysterious disappearance, a tragedy in your eyes. You weren’t a part of the prank, you were passed out drunk with Chris and Josh when it all went down. You only heard about the prank afterwards when police were called and you finally sobered up. Josh was obviously shaken up about the whole thing, to say the least. You’d barely heard from him throughout the year and he distanced himself from the friend group, which you couldn’t blame him for. You were surprised to hear from him, even more surprised to learn he wanted all of you to come back to Washington Lodge in memory of the sisters.

Although it felt… weird, you felt morally obliged to come back and support Josh, which totally had nothing to do with your feelings for him. Not at all… okay, maybe a little. But, he probably didn’t feel the same. Which was fine, you could be the good friend to him that he needed right now. You hoped that after his time away he’d come back to the friend group, come to the parties and back into your life. Maybe it was a little selfish, but you wanted to see him for the sake of your feelings for him which really hadn’t dwindled in his absence. You worried for him, last you heard he was in therapy and taking medications for his depression and other mental health issues. As childish as it sounded, you wished you were able to take away his pain, or at least ease it. It hurt to see someone you cared about in pain. 

Your mind wanders back to the night of the incident, things would’ve been different if Josh, you and Chris had been awake and aware of the pranks plans. Josh for sure wouldn’t have stood for it, you know you would’ve tried to stop it. After all, Hannah was one of your closest friends. You yourself found it hard to return to the friend group after the whole thing, harboring blame for everyone involved. Well, everyone except Sam who was your other closest friend. You know she tried to stop it afterwards when you had a chance to talk to her, she was just too late.

Your thinking is cut short by the sound of the door unlocking and creaking open. Your gaze follows the sound and lands on Josh as he stands in the doorway, a toothy grin plastered on his face. He says your name in a friendly and welcoming manner before pulling you into a bear hug.

“Oof!” you collide with his chest before wrapping your arms around him in return. 

“Good to see you too, Josh.” Your hands slide back from his flannel as he lets you go and a gust of frigid wind bites at your nose and cheeks. 

“Can I come in?” You ask, pointing to the fireplace. There was nobody else in the room but yet you had a feeling you were the last one to show up, as per usual. 

“Oh yeah, sure sure. Come on in.” He steps aside, and allows you to come into the lodge before closing the door behind you, shutting out the cold. You drag in your luggage and set it in the foyer and then you make your way over to the fireplace, rubbing your hands together and holding them to the flame. Your fingers were freezing as you opted to wear fingerless gloves, perhaps an oversight on your end but you were inside now, so all was well. 

“Can I, uh, take your coat?” He asks, gesturing to the coat rack where his vest was also hanging, his beanie dangling from the pocket. 

“Sure,” You slip your arms from your parka before handing it over to Josh who takes it and hangs it from the coat rack. You’re now left in your black cardigan and jeans. “Thank you.” 

“No problemo.” He smiles at you and makes finger guns, you shoot him back and he chuckles.

“Where’s everyone else?” You ask, looking around. 

“Jess and Mike are on their way to the guest cabin, Emily and Matt are retrieving her bag from the cable car station, Sam is taking a bath and Chris just went to lay down.” He lists off, counting on his fingers.

“Left you all alone, did they?” You tease, watching as he makes his way over to you to warm his own hands. 

“I’m wounded by their absence.” He pretends to stab his heart and acts wounded, you laugh at his theatrics. 

“So dramatic.” You say, rolling your eyes in a silly manner. He scoffs, looking over at you.

“You’ve always been the dramatic one.” He claims, elbowing your side and causing you to squeal and fold in on yourself.

“Stooop!” You dodge away, running to get behind the couch and away from the prying elbow. “Behave.” You warn, smile betraying you. 

“When have I ever not behaved?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. Now it was your turn to scoff.

“Oh, you want the list or the summary?” You ask, climbing over the back of the couch to bet comfy on the cushions. He watches you with something unknown in his eye, a foreign twinkle. 

“What?” You ask, kicking off your boots before bringing your knees to your chest. 

“Care for a drink, madam?” He disappears to the liquor cabinet before reemerging with a handle of vodka. The last time you had gotten drunk in this lodge, things didn't end well. But, a few sips couldn’t hurt, maybe it’d help you get warm. You also hoped Josh hadn’t turned to alcohol in his time of grief, but if some company was what he needed, you were happy to oblige. 

“Oooo, are we Russian now?” You gesture to the vodka as he comes to sit down next to you, he turns the bottle in his hand. It was nice vodka, probably very expensive but you understood that the Washington family could definitely afford for you and Josh to take a few sips from off the top. 

“Da.” He says in his best Russian accent before unscrewing the lid and offering you first drink. You take the bottle by the neck and take a sip off the top and when you look back to Josh to offer up the bottle, he’s looking at you in disbelief. 

“What?” You ask, blushing under the weight of his gaze. 

“That’s all you’re gonna drink? Where’s the black-out, shit-faced, party girl I know?” He smiles his signature grin at you before taking the bottle and taking a hearty drink. He grimaces against the alcohol taste before setting the bottle on the nearby table. 

“She’s retired. Focusing on her studies.” You say, a teasing tone lacing your voice. You and Josh were both in college at the time of the disappearances but Josh understandably dropped out of his studies. You, on the other hand, were still up at the local college pursuing your degree. 

“Hey,” You start, your teasing tone turning into one of concern, “Should you be drinking with the meds you’re taking?” You tried your best to sound sincere, because you were. You didn’t want him hurting himself or anything just to have a drink with you.

“I’m fine.” He says, face immediately dropping. You move to put a hand over his and he looks at the contact then back at your face.

“I didn’t say you weren’t.” You practically whisper, thumb caressing over his knuckles. 

“I uh…” He starts, gaze not leaving yours, “I stopped taking them.” 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You ask, searching his features for the answer before he can say it. You don’t find anything.

“Good… I think.” He says after a moment, his eyes shift from yours and to the side, like he was thinking of something. You retreat your hand and lean back, your legs draping over his lap. He immediately shifts and welcomes your incursion, hands beginning to fiddle with the hem of your pants. This was nice, your relationship was basically the same as it had been a year ago, even though you’d barely seen each other since. 

“I’m just glad you’re doing better.” You express honestly. All you wanted was for Josh to be okay, even though you knew the pain of losing his sisters would never go away. Hearing that he was off his meds just left you confused on how to feel. Was he off them because he was doing better? Or were they not working, or worse yet, was he giving up on them? 

“Thanks for coming back, I know it probably wasn’t easy.” He says, a rare sincerity showing itself. Usually Josh was a pretty goofy guy, witty and sarcastic and all around a good sense of humor. Seeing him now, timid and honest, was something you’d seen before, but not often. 

“Of course. Anything for you.” You smile as he rests his arms on your shins and studies your face. 

“Careful, you’re giving me a lot of power there.” He grins, returning to his goofy self. 

“Well, maybe not anything.” You trail off, a smile plastered across your face. 

“Well then, I command thee to drinketh upon thine vodka.” He reaches to grab the bottle from the table and hands it to you while committing to his false accent.

“Well, if you command it, I suppose I have no choice.” You take the bottle and take a meaningful gulp of the clear liquid, clearly making a face against the taste as Josh laughs at you. 

“Wow, you really have lost your touch.” He says, chuckling.

“Oh whatever, sorry I’m not used to your ridiculously expensive vodka.” You dismiss, passing back the bottle and watching him take his turn. 

The two of you continue like that for a while, just passing the bottle between you both and getting closer and closer, and louder and louder. Soon enough you’ve got him trapped in a hearty laugh, you’re gripping your sides from cackling and tears are springing from the corners of your eyes. You bring a finger to dab at your eyes, not trying to mess up your mascara. But then, you fall into silence and your gaze slowly makes its way over to Josh, who is already looking at you, lips parted as his tongue dashes out to wet them. 

“What?” You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“Are you still willing to do anything for me?” He asks, rather seriously.

“Within reason.” You try to make light of the serious tone overcoming the space around you and it seems to work, Josh’s lips twitch into a smile momentarily before he’s pulling on your legs, chugging you towards him. 

“Well then, come here.” 

“Josh!-” You squeal as you slide across the couch. Your heart was racing, what did he want? What was he going to do? You’ve had feelings for him for so long, could it be possible he felt the same way?

In a moment your knees are bent over his lap, your body much closer to his as he turns to look at you. 

“Would it be within reason to ask to kiss you?” 

Your stomach does a backflip and your mouth goes dry. Was he serious? You’d had a crush on this man for years, ever since Hannah had brought you into the friend group in high school. She was younger than you, but you both found yourself in the same chemistry class where you became fast friends. Josh was always the forbidden fruit, someone who you wanted but could never have. Not because you thought Hannah would disapprove, no, in fact she actually knew about your crush, but it was forbidden because you never thought he’d want you too. You always thought he wanted Sam, which you couldn’t blame him for. She was beautiful. But here you were, legs draped across his lap, bodies merely inches apart and he was asking to kiss you. 

“Are you being serious?” You ask, “Josh, I’ve wanted to kiss you since senior year.” 

“I guess we have some time to make up for then.” He says, hand skating up your arm and tangling in your hair as he brings your face to his and connects your lips. You melt into the touch as he tilts his head to get even closer, his free hand coming to rest on the bent knee positioned over his lap. 

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips meld to yours. The kiss starts out slow, just a sweet connection of your lips gradually moving against each other. But soon enough you feel his tongue at the seam of your mouth, so you open and take him greedily, your hands coming to rest on his neck and on the side of his face. Your thumb swipes across his cheek as his hand pulls on your knee, pulling on it gently.

“Come here.” He grunts against you as he guides you into his lap, straddling him. Your tongue meets his as he enters your mouth again and you moan into the contact, hands moving from his face to run through his hair, his own hands go to your ass, holding you against him as your lips engage in a dance for dominance. 

He parts from you to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw before arriving at your neck where he tenderly nips at the sensitive flesh. You roll your head back and allow him access and when he bites down only to lick over it and play nice, you let out a sweet moan. He nuzzles into your shoulder and your arms go around his shoulders, embracing him. You could feel yourself getting wet from the kissing alone. 

“Keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to contain myself.” He grunts into your hair and you push him back just a little, just enough to have him look at your face.

“I don’t want you to contain yourself.” You say honestly, you were putting it all out in the open. How many times had you raked your own hands down your body imagining they were his? You were ready for this, hell, you yearned for it. Yearned for him. 

“Yeah?” He asks, searching your eyes. 

“Yeah.” You confirm, a low tremor in your voice from the sheer excitement and want. 

“Get up and follow me.” He says, you obey, sliding off his lap and allowing him to get up. He turns back to you, holding out a hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you up the stairs, around the corner and into his old room. You pause for a second as he closes the door behind you and you take the time to look around the room. It was identical to the last time you’d seen it, when you would sit on the floor with him and Chris and play videogames on the flatscreen across the room. The only thing that was different was the dust covering the shelves and end tables, it was clear the Washingtons hadn’t been here all year. You didn’t blame them. 

“Looks the same.” You observe as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, observing the dark room with you. 

“Haven’t really touched it since…” He lingers but doesn’t finish. 

“But the, uh, bed is clean. Washed all the bedding before everyone got here.” He purrs in your ear, hands going from around your middle and to your hips. You turn in his grasp, his hands just slide along your body as you do until they’re planted on your hips again. 

“Better get to it then.” You say lowly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. That appears to be all the invitation he needs, dipping his head to connect your lips once more. He gently pushes you backwards until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You help him in ripping off your cardigan, discarding it somewhere across the room. Next to go was your spaghetti-strap tank top, leaving you in your bra and jeans. He leans back to admire you, hands sliding up your waist and to your breasts. He cups them gently, squeezing you like you were delicate glass. You grab at his flannel and begin to chug it down his shoulders, he assists you before letting it fall to the ground. His shirt joins the pile soon and now it was your time to admire him. You lean back in to lavish his neck in kisses and licks and move down to his shoulder, biting gently as his hands run up and down your back and he hums lowly in his throat. His hand hitches when it hits your bra strap and he expertly unhooks it, leaving it hanging around your shoulders. You pull back to shuck it from your body. He shamelessly stares, bringing his hand back to them once again and testing the weight of you in his hands. His gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Lay down.” He invites, watching you as you take it and flop down onto the mattress, propping yourself on your elbows as you meet his gaze. He bends over you, unbuttoning your jeans before hooking fingers around your belt loops and beginning to tug your pants down your legs. You assist by lifting your ass off the bed as he gets them past your thighs, to your shins and then off completely. He then works at his own pants before pulling them off, leaving him in his boxers.

He looked so good, your mouth watered for him. You wanted to taste him, to feel him against your tongue, anything to make him feel good. You sit up before standing completely. He looks at you confused but when you sink to your knees in front of him, it seems to click. 

“Can’t say no to that.” He chuckles, watching as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You slowly bring them down, revealing the last bit of his happy trail, top of the pelvis until finally his cock springs free, half-hard. You peer up at him, a little smile tugging at your lips as you lick your hand and begin to pump him slowly. He groans as you stroke him, head tilting backwards and eyes fluttering closed, which you thought was funny considering you hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet. 

But then you finally do, starting at the tip, you swallow him down as much as you can before wrapping your hand around the part you cannot. Then, you start to slowly come off him, lips and tongue running over every ridge and vein until you reach the very tip again and repeat the process. If you could bottle the noises he made while you worked him over, you would and keep it forever. His grunts and groans were everything you’d ever wanted to hear since you’d met him. All those nights fantasizing was nothing compared to the real thing. His hand comes to the back of your head, not to push you or hurry you along, but just to feel you as you slide back and forth. You fight back a gag as he hits the back of your throat, hot tears spring from your eyes but it’s worth it just to make him feel good. You mourn for your mascara but this was about him, so makeup be damned. 

“God, you're good at that.” He moans before pulling out of your mouth with a pop. You look up at him, drool covering your chin as you bring a hand to wipe it up. 

“And as much as I’d like to paint your pretty face, I wanna feel what it’s like to be inside you.”

You nod and he helps you stand before escorting you to the bed, you lay down, pulling off your remaining panties and throwing them across the room. You’d have to go on a scavenger hunt to find all of your belongings later but that wasn’t a problem for now. 

You peer over at him when you hear a rummaging sound and he’s pawing through his bedside drawer.

“Condom?” You ask, resting your head on your bent arm as you watch.

“I swear there’s one in here.” He says, frustrated.

“Aha!” He pulls out a foil wrapped condom before tearing open the packaging with his teeth. He pulls it out, rolling it onto his erect member before using two fingers to beckon you over. 

“Come to the edge of the bed.” He says, voice like honey. You shake your head though, you’d wanted to ride him for a while now and tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“I want to ride you.” You say, scooting over and patting the space beside you. 

“Come get comfy.” You purr, flipping over so your ass was on display. It seems to work as you watch his adam's apple bob before he’s climbing into bed and settling in amongst the pillows.

“I could never say no to you.” He smiles at the ceiling before turning his attention to you.

“I’m going to remember you said that.” You say, climbing over him. He immediately goes for your tits, grasping them in both hands before running his thumbs over your perked nipples. You moan as he does, the attention sending energy straight down to your core. You look back down at him to see him biting his lip as he watches his hands play with the soft flesh. 

“Like what you see?” You ask, your hands slotting over his against your chest. 

“Always have.” He admits, eyes finally finding yours as you peer down at him from your perched position. You tilt your head, trying to find the answer in his eyes before you even asked the question.

“Really?” 

He drops his hands to your thighs and sighs.

“Well duh. Have you seen you?” He squeezes your thighs gently. “You’re like super hot.” 

You laugh, taking a hand to cup the side of his face.

“Wish you told me that when we were seniors.” You say, he turns to kiss your wrist.

“Live and learn.” He chuckles before tapping your thigh. “Now, are you gonna do what you came here for?” 

You look behind you, he’s still angrily erect, a bead of precum drips from the tip. 

“That looks painful.” You coo, scooting backwards, “Let me fix that for you.” 

“Thank God.” He sighs to the ceiling, you just laugh again before taking him in your hand and running his cock through your folds, slicking him in your juices. You were ready for him, had been since he kissed you, even more when he groped you so shamelessly. 

Once he was well and truly slicked, you align him with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him. You cry out as you take him inch by inch, he lets out a guttural moan when you finally hit the base, stretching you out.

“Shit, you’re tight.” He grits through his teeth, hands coming to hold your waist in support. 

 He sits up and ducks his head to lavish your nipple in attention, sucking gently before licking over with his hot tongue. You sigh at the sensation, nails raking over his back as you begin to move up slowly, rising on your knees. He felt so good, like he was made for you. The burning sensation had already subsided and all there was now was sweet pleasure. You wondered what your relationship would be like after this, were you going to go on actual dates now, be fuck buddies? You knew your feelings were too strong for him to be anything casual, your heart would break at the prospect of this being a one time thing. But it all depended on what he wanted, what he thought of you. He admitted he had thought you were attractive to him since you’d met but is that all he felt? Lust?

 He moves to kiss your shoulder, nipping at the skin there as you sink back down. He could be so tender, you’ve learned in your time with him tonight, so caring. It again made you question his intentions, how could someone who was so loving want just to fuck you? He brings his head up to kiss you again, swallowing down your moans as you sink back down, more quickly this time, harder. Soon enough you’ve got a pace down and he’s snapping his hips up to meet you in the middle, creating a delicious friction that has you hurtling towards an orgasm at lightning speed. You can see it on the horizon, steadily approaching. 

You separate your tangled tongues to warn him of your upcoming release.

“Josh,” You pant as he snaps his hips up once more, you pause to let out a moan, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.” 

“By all means,” He quips, letting out another grunt as you meet his pelvis. 

With another thrust, you’re there, cumming as you cry out his name. Your walls flutter around him and it’s enough to have him flustered. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna-” But he doesn’t finish before he fills the condom with his seed, letting out a long moan that makes you clench around him. You loved the sounds he made throughout this whole experience, loved the way he touched you, the way he fucked you, you loved… him. 

After he is finished, you slide from him, settling in amongst the sheets next to him. He pulls off the condom before tying it off, tossing it into the trash can beside the bed. After, he pulls you onto his chest and wraps an arm around you, fingers running up and down your spine. You rest a hand on his stomach, eyes fluttering shut after the effort you put into making love to him. He kisses your temple before checking the time on the alarm clock on the side table. 

“Shit.” He mutters. You peek your eyes open. 

“What?” You ask, heart dropping for some reason, like you could’ve caused the sudden change of mood.

“I’ve gotta do something.” He says, unwrapping from you and finding his clothes. You follow in suit, finding your panties before sliding them up your legs. Before long you’re both dressed. He catches your hand and pulls you into an embrace. 

“Listen…” He says, pulling away. You dread the look on his face, like he was fighting something internally. 

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask quietly, almost afraid of the question.

“I know I invited you here.” He starts, for some reason he looks… guilty?

“But you need to leave.” 

Your heart sinks to your stomach… what? 

“What?” You ask, voice harboring a little quiver.

“Shit’s about to go down and I don’t want you near it.” He says, honestly. But, what did that mean? What shit was about to go down? 

“What do you mean?” You ask, completely lost.

“I need you to trust me.” He grabs your shoulders and gives you a look. A look that strikes you as the most serious you’d ever seen him. You have no choice but to trust him, to do as he asked. You still had a million questions but his stare silences you. 

“I do.” Is what you settle on and he kisses your forehead at the acceptance. 

“Great.” He lets you go before making his way to the door and opening it for you, you walk through and he follows closely as you make your way down the stairs and to the door. You were sore, still feeling him between your legs. Normally, it’d be something that made you blush but you were feeling too confused, too puzzled to think of anything else as you pull on your parka and grab your suitcase. You turn to say something but he grabs your face and kisses you deeply. You return in, eyes closing and hands going to his waist before you both pull apart.

“I promise everything will make sense by dawn.” He says, letting you go and opening the large front door. You just nod, what else could you do? 

So, you left, stepping into the cold night and soon enough you’re in the cable car, slowly making your way down the mountain. A million questions swarmed your head but those would have to wait… until dawn.  ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── A note: Hope you enjoyed that! Had to change a few things for the plot to work but nonetheless hope it was fun to read! ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── Taglist (comment to be on it)

@sprite-real

[signanothername]

do you think dream might also have some sort of chronic pain? nightmares legs are like obviously really messed up from corruption, but like being in stone for more than 400 (or 500 I kinda forgot how long he was in stone for) years has gotta do something to your joints or bones. Probably maybe not something as painful as what nightmare goes through, but I’d expect it to be painful or discomforting nonetheless

ACTUALLY YESSSSS ANON I DO THINK DREAM IS IN CHRONIC PAIN TOO!!!

And they’re definitely joints, definitely suffers from some sorta arthritis, being frozen in place for so long can be debilitating, and allow me to say that I love to think Dream also wasn’t just able to move around like he just wasn’t frozen for 500 years when he got free

Like I absolutely love to think he barely could move at all when he first got out of his prison, he definitely was in so much pain too, and absolutely struggled to move his limbs, like I wholeheartedly believe he just lay there without moving for a while (all while his mind was on overdrive as his memories got back to him as to what the hell happened)

And well, that pain as well as stiffness, especially in his joints just stuck with him, he now also struggles a lot of the time with moving too much or working, and sometimes the pain can amp up to the point he just can’t move at all, literally would cry from the pain, he’d force himself to stay as still as possible as to not irritate his pain even more

And unlike Nightmare, who’s pain is mostly just his back and legs, Dream’s pain is in every and each joint in his body, from every vertebrae in his spine, to every finger joint in his hands

Now take that and include Dream’s archery in the mix :)

One of the biggest things about archery is that you have to have strong flexible joints to be able to use a bow without any problems, not to mention, using it excessively can cause joint stiffness/pain, so I think it’d be easy to imagine how hellish using a bow is for Dream

But Dream had to learn how to use it effectively with his disability if he wanted to survive, the reason Dream picks up archery specifically is both cause it holds sentimental value to him as he used to play archery with Nightmare, and cause he knows he needs a long range weapon when Nightmare got his tentacles, he can’t be too careless and be at close proximity to his brother when he’s trying to kill him

So even tho there’s so much in his way, Dream managed to learn how to use a bow effectively all the same

It doesn’t mean he never faces any problems when fighting with his bow, Dream has great aim, but even then he’d sometimes miss his target just cause of the pain/stiffness he has, and sometimes it irritates his joints so much that he’s just unable to keep fighting and so he just retreats

I like to think Dream never even knew how to make his pain better at all, he never knew how to treat it, so for the longest time he just lived with it, until he met Swap, and well, he finally understood that he doesn’t need to just live with it and that there are methods to treat the pain, so now he wears braces under his clothes most the time, especially his wrists, arms and knees, he sometimes uses heat/cold therapy and he’s definitely on pain medications on a daily basis

Damn this boi needs a break

[foxika]

surprised i haven’t see any fox lives aus exploring the idea of palpatine sending fox to hemlock/tantiss after getting his neck snapped Hemlock hesitates, staring through the glass window of the examination room and observing its main occupant. His medical staff fusses over their patient, a clone, as they record his vitals and situate the room for long term occupancy. "It is... Unlikely, that this clone will ever walk again, Your Majesty. The damage done to his neck is irreversible, that he even retained mobility in his torso is—" Hemlock had said. He was scrolling through a rather dire injury report. The Emperor waved his hand dismissively, black robes flowing with the motion. "I am aware, but what I require is not impossible. I will take care of the most severe damages to my commander..." My commander? Hemlock looked away from the datapad and to the immobile clone floating in the bacta tank. "...And when the time comes, I will require your facility to do the rest."

Hemlock refrained from frowning, keeping his expression neutral, albeit a bit dubious. If Emperor Palpatine wanted to waste his time with a lost cause, he wouldn't argue. Not as long as he continued to receive the necessary resources and further funding for his projects. Now, when Hemlock gazes upon that same clone all those months ago, he sits properly upright on the examination table, back straight and form perfect like a soldier. The clone turns his head, his golden eyes-a deviation from the standard brown, colour bordering unnatural in a human- meeting Hemlock's through the glass. Hemlock raises a brow in response but the clone doesn't react, only breaking eye contact when one of the medical aids calls for his attention. Folding his arms behind his back, Hemlock turns to stalk down the hall. He would never say it aloud, but he was irked that this... Chore was now his responsibility. He was a scientist! A progressive researcher and an invaluable asset to the Empire. That his facility is being forced to take on the task of physical therapy and rehabilitation, of all things, for one simple, damaged clone was insulting.

Hemlock exhales, forcing his posture to relax. His Imperial Majesty was making a mistake, clearly, but it was no matter. Hemlock would only need to check in occasionally; he could still focus his efforts where it really matters. His commander would be carefully monitored in the meantime, and maybe, Hemlock could learn how Palpatine managed to reverse what should have been a deathly injury. ♠♠♠♠

i imagine palpatine does ambiguous hand wave force healing to get fox back into tip top shape. well mostly back. fox still has a lot to work through. and then sends him off to wherever hemlock is, for reasons. he doesnt need hemlock's facility to host fox, he could easily give fox the care he needs closer to home. so maybe to have fox keep an eye on him and his progress, who knows really from there i kinda have a few paths this could take, one with omega eventually coming across fox, being mildly interested in him(he's not held in a cell like the rest of the clones, he's not a commando, why is he here?) and maybe later, nala se assigns her to him to keep her further out of the way of hemlock. all leading up to when omega and crosshair escape, she insists fox comes with them. fox doesnt want to (paranoid), crosshair doesnt want him to(also paranoid). think of the fox and rex reunion... the echo confrontation... the wolffe reunion... howzer bitching at both crosshair and fox... the drama of it all. another idea being fox meeting scorch again. since arca company barracks are stationed on coruscant, i imagine that fox has run into delta squad at least once. delta wasn't on coruscant often, and fox is busy guy. probably also doesn't care much for sobde either. (i imagine him and maze sending very petty emails to each other. fox saying "fuck you, i outrank you captain" in corporate)

and maybe when shit goes down on tantiss, he convinces scorch to dip with him. "you got your ass kicked, man. let's go."

throughout all of this fox maintains a creepy, unsettling presence on the base.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Please write a John Marino smut since I miss him so much… I hope he’s fine in Utah recovering, maybe like y/n playing a nurse for him to “recover”? It’d be hilarious if he takes an extra recovery time to spend his time with his girlfriend at home🥴

Personal Nurse - John Marino

MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: sex scenes, fluff — SUMMARY: John Marino, recovering from shoulder surgery, shares an intimate moment with his devoted girlfriend, Y/N, as they reconnect physically and emotionally after weeks of tension. Their love and passion reignite, blending tenderness and fiery desire, reminding them of their bond's strength. — WORD COUNT: 3,3K

Pain is all John felt for the past few months after his shoulder surgery. His shoulder was mostly on fire, but in the last few weeks, he’s feeling less pain and feels ready to hop on the ice and play like he’s used to.

But the team’s medical staff had other ideas. “One more week, Marino,” they kept saying, like a mantra designed to test his patience. He’d spent most of his recovery pacing around his house, stretching his arm in exaggerated circles, and muttering under his breath about “wasted time.”

That’s where Y/N came in. She had taken on the unofficial role of his live-in nurse—not that she minded, really. John could be grumpy and restless, but he was also endearingly stubborn. Besides, she enjoyed the rare opportunity to fuss over him.

“You’re not skating yet,” she reminded him one morning, setting a steaming mug of coffee on the table. “And don’t give me that look. You’re still supposed to take it easy.”

John groaned, leaning back against the couch with an exaggerated pout. “I feel fine, though. Better than fine.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? You feel so fine that you don’t need your pain meds anymore? Or the physical therapy sessions I have to drag you to?”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean… those are helpful. But come on, I’m bored out of my mind. If I don’t get back out there soon, I’m gonna lose my edge.”

“Your edge?” she teased, sitting beside him. “I thought the whole point was for you to rest and not wreck yourself again. Do you really want to deal with another six months of me bossing you around?”

John smirked, the corner of his mouth curling into that signature grin she knew too well. “I don’t know. I think I could get used to it. You’re a pretty cute nurse.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Flattery won’t get you back on the ice any faster. Besides, I think you’re enjoying this whole ‘recovery’ thing more than you let on.”

He leaned closer, his good arm sneaking around her waist. “Maybe I just like having you around. Ever think of that?”

“Nice try, Marino. You’re not charming your way out of another week off.” She poked his chest gently, laughing at his exaggerated wince.

“Fine,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “But only if you promise to keep me company. I’ll take extra time off if it means more mornings like this.”

Y/N smiled, her resolve softening. “Deal. But you’re still doing your stretches. No slacking.”

John huffed dramatically, sinking back into the cushions as though the weight of the world—or at least, the weight of not skating—rested entirely on his shoulders. He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, the kind that usually melted her resolve.

“You’re ruthless, you know that?” he said, shaking his head with mock defeat. “I’m out here, helpless, recovering from major surgery, and you won’t even let me slack off for one day.”

“Helpless?” Y/N snorted, crossing her arms. “You’re like a toddler on a sugar high. The only thing helpless here is the state of this house if I leave you unsupervised.”

“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

“Good.” She grinned, standing and reaching for his arm. “Now, come on, Mr. Helpless. Time for your stretches.”

John groaned again but allowed her to pull him up. She guided him to the open area in the living room, where she’d already laid out a mat for his routine. Despite his grumbling, she knew he secretly appreciated the attention.

As he moved through the motions—reluctantly at first but gradually loosening up—Y/N caught herself watching him. Even in his injured state, there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, all lean strength and understated grace. It was a shame he couldn’t see how impressive he was, even off the ice.

“You staring at me?” John’s voice broke her train of thought, and she realized too late that she’d been caught.

“No,” she lied quickly, turning her attention to the clock. “I’m just making sure you’re doing it right. Don’t want you slacking.”

“Mmhmm.” He smirked, rolling his shoulder carefully before shooting her a playful glance. “Admit it. You’re impressed.”

“By you? Not likely,” she said, though the corners of her mouth betrayed a smile.

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, stepping closer. “I see that look in your eyes. You think I’m irresistible.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, standing in front of her now. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his voice dropped just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “But you haven’t exactly been rushing out the door lately, have you?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “Maybe I just like bossing you around.”

His grin widened, and before she could react, he’d scooped her into his good arm, pulling her close despite her half-hearted protests.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if I’m stuck here, I guess I might as well make it worth your while.”

“John—your shoulder!” she squeaked, though her laughter betrayed her concern.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, leaning closer. “But thanks for caring, Nurse Y/N.”

Her heart raced as his lips brushed against hers, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

Y/N tried to push away, half-heartedly, but John held her firmly—just enough to make her heart skip a beat without straining his injured shoulder.

“John,” she muttered again, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers, his grin widening.

“Your physical therapist is going to kill me if you hurt yourself because of… this,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them.

“I’ll tell them it was an accident,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face with his free hand. “Or maybe I’ll say my nurse was too good at her job. They’ll understand.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back her laughter, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he said softly, his voice dipping into that husky tone that always made her melt.

Before she could reply, he closed the gap between them, kissing her gently at first, then with a little more intent. She let herself sink into it for a moment, her hands resting on his chest, before reality nudged her conscience.

“Okay, okay,” she said, pulling back, her cheeks flushed. “You’re supposed to be recovering, not… whatever this is.”

“Pretty sure this counts as therapy,” John argued, smirking. “Emotional support is important, right?”

“Uh-huh. And what happens when you overdo it and have to stay out another month? You’ll drive me insane.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, leaning in again, but she put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“Yes,” she said firmly, though her smile softened the blow. “Now sit down before I have to explain to your coach why you’re still out.”

John sighed dramatically, dropping onto the couch like a petulant child. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to ruin my perfect recovery record.”

“Perfect, huh?” Y/N shot him a knowing look, grabbing a notebook from the table. “You mean the record where you complain through every stretch and refuse to follow half the instructions?”

“Hey, I’ve been improving!” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“Sure you have,” she said with a wink, flipping through the pages. “But don’t think I’ll go easy on you. You’ve still got a long way to go, Mr. Marino.”

He watched her with a lopsided grin, his heart swelling despite the teasing. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to hit the ice again, but with Y/N by his side, he was starting to think that recovery wasn’t so bad after all.

John followed her instructions as she showed him how to do the exercise to help him recover quickly. It was clear he’s absolutely annoyed by the fact he has to do this but he followed her instructions just to watch her round ass moves with so elegancy and delicacy.

“Stop staring at my ass Marino!” she sighs turning her head around to sed him a glare.

“I am not!” John raised his hands above his head, grinning like a small boy. “Or am I?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re supposed to be focusing on your form, not my… assets.”

John shrugged, the motion slightly restricted by his healing shoulder. “Can’t blame a guy for appreciating the view during such grueling recovery exercises.”

She turned fully now, hands on her hips, leveling him with a glare that only made his grin widen. “You’re impossible, Marino. Do you even want to get back on the ice?”

“Sure, I do,” he said, leaning lazily against the back of the couch. “But I’m starting to think this rehab routine has some hidden perks.” His eyes flicked pointedly downward, earning him a sharp smack on the shoulder—the good one, of course.

“Behave,” she said, though her cheeks flushed at the blatant way he was ogling her.

“Or what?” he challenged, his voice low and teasing.

“Or I’ll make you do an extra set of stretches,” she shot back, leaning in just enough to make her point. “No complaining, no shortcuts, and definitely no flirting.”

John raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting into something more devilish. “You think you’re the one in control here?”

“Obviously,” she replied with mock authority, folding her arms.

In a swift motion, John grabbed her wrist, tugging her down onto the mat beside him. She let out a surprised yelp as she landed unceremoniously, his good arm looping around her waist to keep her from escaping.

“Guess again,” he murmured, his breath warm against her neck.

“John,” she said, half-laughing, half-scolding. “You’re supposed to be-”

“Recovering, yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But you didn’t say I couldn’t multitask.”

Y/N squirmed, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism, but the heat radiating from his body and the way his fingers traced lazy circles on her hip made it nearly impossible.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said, her voice breathier than she intended.

“And yet, here you are,” he whispered, turning her head gently with his hand so their eyes met.

Her resolve wavered for only a moment before his lips found hers, claiming them in a kiss that was all heat and urgency. Her protests melted like snow under the sun, her fingers instinctively threading through his hair as she gave in to the moment.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she murmured against his lips, earning a chuckle that rumbled low in his chest.

“And you’re lucky I’m injured,” he teased, pulling her closer, “or I’d really show you how grateful I am.”

Her laugh was soft, but her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned back just enough to smirk at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Marino. When you’re fully healed, I’ll ensure you work twice as hard.”

John groaned dramatically, but the way he kissed her again told her he didn’t mind one bit.

“Twice as hard, huh?” John murmured, his voice dipping into that dangerously smooth tone that always unraveled her. His good arm tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Guess I’ll need you to supervise… closely.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but whatever clever retort she’d planned was lost as his lips trailed down her jaw, grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. Her breath hitched, fingers curling into his shirt.

“John,” she managed, though it came out more as a whisper than a warning.

“Yeah?” he asked, his lips brushing the hollow of her throat.

“This isn’t—” She sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth grazed her collarbone, sending a shiver straight through her. “—part of the rehab plan.”

“Feels therapeutic to me,” he muttered against her skin, his hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to rest on the small of her back. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

Her silence was answer enough, and John smirked as he leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. “Thought so.”

She glared half-heartedly, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back without missing a beat. His hand slid higher, fingers splaying against her skin, his touch both firm and teasing. “Admit it, Y/N—you like me better when I’m a little bad.”

Her laugh was breathless, her resolve crumbling with every passing second. “You’re lucky you’re injured, Marino. Otherwise, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“Is that so?” His smirk deepened, and before she could react, he flipped their positions, pinning her gently beneath him. His weight was balanced perfectly to avoid straining his shoulder, but the dominance in his stance was undeniable.

“Careful,” she teased, her voice dropping to match his. “One wrong move and you’re stuck in rehab even longer.”

“Worth it,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that left no room for argument.

Her hands slid up his chest, tracing the lines of his toned muscles before curling around his neck. The heat between them was intoxicating, but they both missed each other.

“John,” she murmured as his lips moved to her ear, his teeth tugging lightly at the lobe.

“Mm?” he hummed, the vibration sending another wave of heat coursing through her.

“We’re supposed to be taking it slow,” she reminded him, though her voice was shaky.

He leaned back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and full of promise. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve been holding back. You don’t want me to take it slow.”

Her heart raced as his lips claimed hers again, his hand sliding up her thigh with a confidence that sent sparks shooting through her. For a moment, all thoughts of recovery and boundaries vanished, replaced by nothing but the heat between them.

John’s lips moved against hers with a passion that made her toes curl. His good hand roamed her body, fingers tracing the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between them. His kisses were hot and insistent, leaving her breathless and wanting more.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice deep and husky.

Y/N smirked, her nails dragging lightly down his chest. “Good. Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his lips brushing over her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck. “You do that just by walking into a room.”

Her laugh dissolved into a soft gasp as his teeth grazed her skin, his tongue soothing the spot immediately after. He kissed lower, his hand slipping beneath her shirt to tease the bare skin of her back. She arched into his touch, her fingers sliding into his hair and pulling him closer.

“Off,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

She raised her arms, letting him pull it over her head and toss it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, drinking her in like she was the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice almost reverent.

Her cheeks flushed under his gaze, but she didn’t have time to respond before his lips were on her again, searing and desperate. His hand slid up her back, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. She shivered as it fell away, his lips immediately descending to the newly exposed skin.

“John,” she gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders as his mouth closed around her nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

“Mm?” he hummed, his good hand sliding up her thigh, pushing her pants lower as he kissed his way across her chest to the other side.

“You’re so—” She broke off, a soft moan escaping her lips as his teeth grazed her skin, his hand squeezing her thigh.

“So what?” he teased, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned back just enough to slide her pants and underwear down in one smooth motion.

“So good at this,” she admitted, her cheeks burning as she met his gaze.

He grinned, his good hand tracing slow, deliberate circles on her inner thigh, getting closer to her core but never quite reaching it. “Oh, I’m just getting started, baby.”

Her breath hitched as his fingers finally slid between her legs, brushing over her most sensitive spot. He groaned softly, his eyes darkening even more as he felt how ready she was for him.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again, his lips devouring hers as his fingers teased her with agonizing precision.

“John,” she whispered, her hips bucking slightly against his hand.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise as he kissed along her jawline.

“You,” she said, her voice trembling. “I need you.”

He didn’t make her wait. Carefully, he removed the last barrier between them, his sweatpants sliding off as he positioned himself above her. His eyes met hers, the intensity in his gaze making her heart race.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said softly, his lips brushing over hers.

She smiled, her hands cupping his face. “I’ll tell you if you’re not enough.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pressed into her, his good hand gripping her hip as he moved with painstaking care. The feeling of him stretching and filling her sent a shiver through her entire body, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“God, Y/N,” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. “You feel incredible.”

She couldn’t form words, her body arching into his as he began to move. Every thrust was deliberate, his pace slow and steady as he focused on her reactions. Her soft moans and whispered encouragement only spurred him on, his lips finding hers again as their bodies moved together.

Her hands roamed his back, her touch gentle yet urgent as she pulled him closer. “Faster,” she murmured, her voice breathless.

“Careful,” he teased, his lips brushing over her ear. “I don’t want to overdo it.”

“John,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of frustration that made him grin.

“Anything for you,” he murmured, his pace quickening slightly. The change sent a wave of pleasure through her, her back arching as she cried out his name.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl as he kissed her neck, his hand sliding down to grip her thigh and hitch it higher around his waist. “Let go for me, baby.”

Her nails dug into his back, her breaths coming faster as she neared the edge. His name fell from her lips like a prayer, her entire body trembling as the tension finally snapped. The release was overwhelming, waves of pleasure washing over her as he held her tightly, his own release following moments later.

They stayed like that for a while, their breaths mingling, their bodies still intertwined. Finally, John leaned back just enough to look at her, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“You, okay?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern and love.

She smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. “I’m perfect.”

“Good,” he said, grinning as he settled beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Because I think that was the best therapy session I’ve ever had.”

She laughed, resting her head on his chest. “You’re still doing stretches tomorrow.”

“Fair trade,” he murmured, his hand tracing lazy patterns on her back. “As long as you’re there to supervise.”

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[propertyofkylar]

crawls in covered in blood

Harper 19 👀?

doctor's orders - m!harper x gn!pc

tags/warnings: 19. kidnapping, drugging, dubcon, medical kink, reader's genitalia left ambiguous

word count: 1810

note: wow....i hope THE harperfucker enjoys this...

“Mhm. And how has your mood been lately?”

You shifted slightly in your chair, sitting on your hands. Dr. Harper was a strange one. He was something of a therapist and psychiatrist. But he also treated injuries, and you had heard he’d even done gynecology work, so you still weren’t entirely sure what kind of doctor he even was. But the pills he prescribed worked well, so you came every Friday to see him. 

“Um,” you hedged a bit, but Harper’s encouraging smile urged you forward. “I mean, it’s not great. You know? Things kinda…suck.”

Harper nodded as you spoke, looking the perfect image of a doctor as he jotted down something on his notepad.  

“So I guess I’ve just been kind of…down. If that makes sense?” You offered. 

Harper nodded again. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Huh?” You hadn’t expected that. Harper offered you a warm smile. 

“I’m experimenting with more herbal remedies,” he explained. “I’ve purchased some tea leaves that claim to help with feelings of depression and anxiety. I thought you might like to try some. I know you like the pills, so this would just be a supplement of sorts. It may help lift your mood, even just a bit.”

Something made you feel a little uneasy. But your doctor had never steered you wrong before. And it was just a cup of herbal tea. What’s the worst thing that could happen? It would taste bad?

So, you nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

Harper gave you another smile and stood up, busying himself with an electric kettle in the corner of the room. You watched idly from your seat. Maybe a warm cup of tea would be exactly what you needed. 

Several minutes later, Harper handed you a steaming mug. An herbal smell of chamomile, lavender, and something else you didn’t recognize wafted towards you. “If you like it, I’ll send it home with you along with your meds.”

You thanked the doctor and took a sip. It was warm with a mildly sweet taste. “It’s good,” you said, going back in for another sip. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Harper said. 

At the very least, a warm drink would make you feel better temporarily. The doctor made idle chitchat with you as you continued drinking. By the time you had emptied the mug, though, your head was feeling a little fuzzy. 

“Are you alright?” Harper asked, only seeming mildly concerned. “The herb blend does have a relaxing effect. It may be that it’s making you tired. 

“Mm…yeah…” you rubbed your eyes, suddenly feeling groggy. “Haven’t been sleeping well lately…”

“Don’t worry,” Harper was leaning forward in his chair, almost in anticipation. “Close your eyes. My next appointment isn’t for a while. You can sleep here for a bit, no worries.”

“‘Kay,” you murmured, your eyes shutting of their own accord. “Just a lil bit…”

You were out like a light. 

When you came to, you had no idea where you were. 

It didn’t feel like you were still in the hospital, though it still seemed like a doctor’s office of sorts. But the light was harsh and artificial, and you got the feeling this room wasn’t used too often. 

Also, your arms were bound to the bed, which wasn’t great. 

“Mm?” You were still quite groggy, so actual words didn’t come out of your mouth. You suddenly became aware of a figure looming over you, smiling. “D-doctor…?”

Harper undid your arm bindings, inviting you to sit up. “Sorry for that! I didn’t want you to move around or get violent in your sleep. The…tea effects are a little unpredictable.”

You rubbed at your sore wrists - how long had you been like this? - as you took in the surroundings. “Where did you take me?”

Harper rolled a chair next to the bed, stroking your hair in a rather unprofessional manner. “This is my private office. You need a more intensive therapy.”

You blinked. “I do?”

Harper nodded. “Yes. Your depression and anxiety is rather treatment resistant. I want to try some different things with you to help you get better,” he slid his hands to hold yours. They were cold and smooth. “Doesn’t that sound good?”

There was something wrong. Something was off. But your brain felt so, so fuzzy. “Yeah…that sounds nice.”

Harper beamed and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Now, let’s begin,” he pulled his notepad out and studied it closely. “You say you’ve experienced rape and sexual assault. Is this right?” 

You shifted uncomfortably. “Uh…yeah.”

He nodded again and checked something off on the notepad. “Good. Then we are going to have sex.”

“What?!” Your ears were ringing. Did he just say that?

Harper set down the notepad and looked closely at you. “You say the assaults cause you trauma. Correct? I can show you how sex can be pleasurable and it will sort of rewire your brain.” He smiled placidly at you. “Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

It was weird. Something felt off. But…you trusted him. So you found yourself agreeing.

“Good!” Harper smiled warmly at you, standing up in front of you. Despite the smile, there was something oddly intimidating about him. But he was a doctor, and you weren’t. So it was probably okay. Right? 

The doctor sat next to you on the bed, moving closer then he’d ever been. “The first step is foreplay. This usually begins with kissing. Are you comfortable with that?” His breath was warm on your face. You nodded. 

And then the two of you were kissing, Harper’s mouth surprisingly cold, much like his hands were. “Very good,” he murmured. Harper practically tugged you into his lap and your patient gown rode up, making you suddenly very aware that there was nothing on underneath. Wait, weren’t you in a therapy session before? Where did your clothes go…?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized you could feel Harper’s cock rubbing against your most sensitive areas. The feeling drew a whimper out of you, which sparked Harper to reach under the gown and grab at your back. 

“P-please,” you whined, grinding down on Harper. 

But he did not relent. “Please what?” He asked. “You need to be specific.”

“Please…” you sucked in a deep breath. “Please, fuck me.”

“Very good,” Harper pulled away and beamed. “You’re a very good patient. You learn quickly.”

He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a small tube. As he squeezed the slimy fluid onto his fingers, you realized what it was - lube. “This may be cold,” Harper said before slipping two fingers into your hole. You bit down on your lip and groaned as the doctor scissored his fingers inside of you. It felt good, but it also felt methodical and practiced.

You pawed at the bulge in Harper’s pants, which he was not expecting judging by his sharp intake of breath. “T-that’s enough,” he stammered, momentarily losing his cool composure. “I think you’re ready now.”

Harper pulled his hand back and unzipped his pants. With one movement he tugged down his pants and boxers and you were suddenly staring directly at his thick cock. It was flushed and twitching, and the bead of precum on the tip gave you the sudden urge to lick it. 

But that wasn’t what was going to happen, at least not today, as Harper was stroking his dick with additional lube, and the way he was looking at you - no, leering - was decidedly unprofessional. You were too far gone at that point, though. The only thought in your head was how badly you needed that cock inside of you.

Your doctor grabbed you by the hips and, ever-so-slowly, lowered you down onto his cock. Harper practically hissed as you sunk further and further onto him, until your hips were flush with his. 

“V-very good,” Harper managed to get out, his face turning red. This was an act you were quite familiar with, and your instincts kicked in. You started moving up and down, Harper’s hands still gripping you tightly, and he began rocking his hips in unison.

Harper seemed practiced in every aspect, with his cock managing to hit every sensitive spot inside of you. He was consistent, too. Every thrust was almost rhythmic. It made the hospital bed creak and squeak, and if you weren’t almost entirely fucked out of your mind, you would’ve worried about its stability. But all you could focus on was riding Harper and how fucking amazing it felt. Maybe it was that tea you had, or maybe your doctor was just that good at fucking.

His grip on your hips only added to the pleasure and you quickly began feeling heat intensifying within you.

“I think,” you tried to start but were cut off by your own moan. “I’m gonna…” 

“Cum,” Harper said plainly, though clearly struggling to stay calm. “You can cum. It’ll - haa - be good for you and your…fffucking treatment.”

You didn’t need Harper to tell you twice, his hips slamming into you. You grabbed onto his shoulders and cried out as the orgasm wracked your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut, but when you opened them, you noticed Harper was staring intently at you. It felt as though he was staring into your soul.

After several more thrusts, you could tell Harper was about to hit his limit as well. Never easing up on his grip, Harper held you down as he came, filling your insides with his hot cum. The two of you stayed connected for a few moments before he gently pulled you off, you letting out a whine at the loss of contact. Harper quietly studied his cum leaking out of your hole and dripping down your leg, then jotted down a few more notes in his notebook. You wondered what he was writing.

“Well,” Harper smiled at you, straightening his clothes out. “You did a great job. You’re a fast learner. I hope that was pleasurable.”

You could only nod in response.

“However,” Harper looked down at his notebook with a slight frown. “I’m afraid you still have a long way to go. This is only the beginning. I’ll need to keep you here at least for a few more days for further studying and treatment.”

“Oh…” you mumbled. In your post-orgasmic state, you struggled to understand what was going on. But maybe a longer stay wouldn’t be so bad.

Harper stood up, clutching his notebook to his chest, and gave you a few soft pats on the head. “No worries. I’ve already communicated with your guardian and school, so everything will be just fine.” He gave you another grin, one that felt a little less genuine, and made you feel a little uneasy. “Trust me. There is no better place for you to be right now than right here.”

And with that, he left the room.

[paper-mario-wiki]

hey, can I ask you for some advice? sorry if this is uncalled for or you just can't answer this, I understand if so

how did you work up the courage to actually get to HRT so fast? I've found out I was a trans woman around when I was 15 and im about to have my 23rd birthday, and due to my financial/working/academic/housing (I live w my fairly conservative parents) situation it does not look like it's in the cards for me any time soon. but also I feel like I should just try to find a way and try to start out ASAP, for the sake of my own happiness. but also im afraid of whatll happen if things go Topsy turvy and I need housing from a family that thinks I'm a freak. how did you do it? again, apologies if this ask feels unwarranted or to big to ask to "Funny lady play tf2 dot blog", but I'm fine if this doesn't see an answer

First of all, I don't have insurance, so keep in mind that I did it out of pocket (note: I am broke).

I used Zocdoc (America only, sorry) to find a hormone therapy consultation, went to that appointment, and they referred me to an endocrinologist. After I got some blood tests done, I got prescribed a 30 day supply of sublingual Estradiol for about $16, again, without insurance. Now, this is of course in Biden's Seattle so it might not be as easy where you are. But at least for me, the process from booking the first appointment, all the way to taking the first pill was about half a month, because I got lucky finding a doctor. During covid, according to my endocrinologist, there was a HUGE explosion of people wanting to medically transition, so a very common thing I've heard is that a lot of doctors are booked out for months. I was lucky enough to get this appointment on Sep 1st, because the next person available in my area wouldnt have gotten me in until November.

Critically, here's my main piece of advice: You can't start until you take the first real action towards accomplishing it outside of your head. You can think, and plan, and crystalize how great it would be if it happened, but you have to actually make the first step and google "HRT doctors in my area", and schedule an appointment. To do it, you must first do it. This goes for many things in life. Simply starting the processes instead of keeping them in my head had me accomplishing many things I never thought I actually would, like starting HRT, going to university in Japan, and moving to Seattle.

Many people like me, including maybe you, are really good at getting in your own head and thinking of every possible way something could go wrong, or could be denied to you. And you get so tied up in the reasoning that you forget about the Doing. To the best of your ability, try to stop thinking, and just start doing. Anything. Choose to do something that you have wanted to for a while. Just one thing. Doesn't have to be buying a plane ticket to France, or confessing a huge secret, maybe start with that thought you had the other day of "ya know I bet pottery on those big goofy wheels is fun" and google 'pottery wheels near me' and see where it takes you. It's easier than you'd think to try. And who knows, at the end of this process maybe you'll have a beautiful vase. Or, even better, a vase with a personality, flaws, and a new hobby that you're excited to get better at.

[sunflower1experiment]

Mouthwashing Actor AU

Jimmy: My character, is mentally struggling, manipulative, and a leech. So lots of therapy needed for the thought process with him. Its honestly annoying seeing people idolize him, sure the empathy makes sense because he represents a struggling class but, if I saw him. I’m calling the cops, him hurting the medic and then trying to kill her, don’t even get me started on the statue. What was the reason? He represents how some of these kinds of people aren’t just already gross and disgusting, they could be people who are your close friends.

Anya: Jeez, you’re so self aware about him. More than, some of the fans….

Jimmy: Look hate him and like him but don’t justify his actions.

Daisuke: Damn son! My character was sorta naive but he’s smart too! He just doesn’t see it because he’s so busy following orders. Sorta like the demographic of kids, we seek leadership and want to make our parents proud!

Anya: You also cheat at games.

Daisuke: Put cho paws up girl!

Anya: My character, she’s an amazing representation of what victims go through, the loneliness, the devastation, I simply hope everyone who sees her doesn’t water her down but understand that she is brave, jubilant, mindful and super smart. Maybe in another universe everyone is happy. I hope so, I wouldn’t want Anya to remain in a world where she’s stuck in devastation.

Swansea: Heavy kid, Curly what do you-….

Curly: *sniffle* Its so beautiful.

Swansea: Eh, my character and Curly’s are sorta parallels. He knew Jimmy but not fully and didn’t do much to stop em, meanwhile Swansea did and yet he still couldn’t/didn’t do much. Thats why their eyes are gone, symbolism is at play. Just like when Swansea had to mercy kill Daisuke, tough decisions for folks like that. Especially when neither of them took Anya’s job seriously. Its a lot of circumstances and damned if ya do or damned if ya don’t for Curly and Swansea.

Curly: Oh yea I forgot! Man, they are just naive.

Swansea: Yep

Jimmy: Agreed.

Curly: The word enabling gets thrown at him too much, in the wrong conjunction. Curly enables everyone and everyone enables each other, he fails at being Captain when he first let Jimmy on the ship, sure everything was nice but at some point the mental distress, mental deterioration, it got to them. They didn’t take the psych evaluation seriously, Pony Express didn’t take them seriously. In the end Curly as a Captain failed, he failed as a friend for Anya specifically. Sure he’d be a safe person but he doesn’t take Anya’s words into consideration. It’s a lot to take in, honestly.

Anya: In the sequel, Curly hates himself to the core. He wasn’t perfect, or a good man. But he definitely isn’t a bad person, he like everyone is flawed.

Jimmy: *patting his back* Well said pal, therapy for everyone though. Because that shit was horrifying.

Crasona: Sir you can’t just be cursing!

Jimmy: My fault.

Crasona: Now, would ya’ll like it better if Jimmy didn’t exist in this game.

Curly:…So another delivery simulator slice of life?

Crasona: Shhh the fans are asking

Jimmy: Crasona get the microphone away from me.

Anya: Oh my gawd.

Daisuke: Character development flushed down the toilet!

Swansea: And folks wonder why I drink…

[luboy7rt]

How Team GHOST Would React To You Being Brainwashed (Headcanons) (GN reader) (Elias, Hesh, Logan, Merrick, Keegan and Kick and Riley)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?)

(Reader is in the infirmary after the Federation brainwashed you, after months of not seeing you, how would characters react to you being so different)

Elias Walker:

- Elias went silent as he sat in your infirmary room, his arms crossed firmly. Elias is a hit..  saddened, he knew Rorke before he got brainwashed.. he never wanted it to happen to someone he knew so well, someone he cherished.

- Elias stares into your dull eyes as he sat next to you, his jaw subtly clenched as he would force himself to give you a reassuring smile.

- Elias would talk, talk a lot despite the fact he never talked much, he would catch you up on everything and anything, telling you stories about the memories You have shared together that you might have been brainwashed to forget.

- Elias would simply spend time with you, your body chained down due to your Brainwashed state, but.. Elias wasn't able to ‘get over’ it, like he did with Rorke, He wasn't able to not visit you. He had a chance to help you, he was willing to spend his time doing so. He never got the chance to help Rorke, he regretted not trying more to save the man in the past… But the past was the past and you were his future, you were more important and the current, he decided to focus on the present.

- Elias would pull up your covers if you weren't able to or didn't/couldn't move due to your brainwashed state. Elias would personally care for you, and when he couldn't he ensured it was a trusted friend, teammate or medic to care for you.

- Elias would give you headpats, he gently murmurs when you flinch back due to the trauma you have experienced by being Brainwashed and tortured by the Federation. Elias would respect your space but also wants to gently get used to his touch again.

- He would read You stories, his voice is great for it. (If you are his child, or if he raised you it's because he wants to remember the good times… and make you remember that he's here. or He would hum a soft song he hummed to you when you were very young or maybe humming a song Ms Walker would always hum before she passed) Elias would even read out loud or hum gently even if you are sleeping, he saves the stories about Team Ghosts and stories about you, or the others for when you are awake and ‘listening’.

- Elias would be there for physical therapy, every moment, whenever you needed help but couldn't voice it. Elias would be there, and he gets really good at just guessing what you needed.

- Elias wants to be the first person you see in the day, not a medic, despite the fact he knows you have false memories, or your memories were messed with, he wanted that trust you once had for him, he wants you to understand you were safe with him.

- Elias gives you a forehead kiss when he arrives to your side and one before he leaves, just to make a habit form so you can expect affection from him or if you're not that close he would pat your head instead.

David ‘Hesh’ Walker:

- Hesh falls asleep on the infirmary bed next to you every night, emotionally exhausted as you were the first experience of someone he knew so well being brainwashed. Hesh would refuse to leave your side, willing to stay put until he knows you are aware again.

- He does cry when he gets frustrated, knowing you were in pain, knowing he couldn't help.. knowing your memories were messed with, he tries to hide it, but his hand is tightly holding yours. He's on his knees by your infirmary bed, his face buried into the mattress as he murmurs ‘I got you’, ‘you'll be alright’ multiple times over and over again.

- Hesh tries to encourage you, to get up.. to move about a tiny bit.. to strengthen your limbs once again. Hesh takes you walking around the base when you are mentally aware enough to not attack him or others.

- His hands gently clasped around yours, after days of ‘waiting’ for something.. anything from you. Hesh began speaking to you, rambling on about any topic he could think of. Trying to comfort you so he talks about any topic that you had brought up to him before you went missing, it could be about a hobby you were telling him about or a story, or anything. He remembers, and will remember for you until you could hold onto the memories again.

- Hesh usually re-does your bandages, ensuring your wounds are disinfected and bandaged in clean bandages. He asked a medic to show him the ‘right way’, (he knew how to do this already, but asked the medic anyway to ensure he did it right). Hesh does this so you can get used to his touch once again, he flinches when you flinch at his touch because he isn't used to you flinching because of him.

- Hesh sneaks in your favorite snacks for you, despite the fact you weren't supposed to eat it, but he did sneak it in for a bed-time snack, trying to coax you with your favorite snack, so maybe it would trigger the memories of all the nice times you both have shared over snacks.

- He watches movies with you, Hesh didn't really care he was uncomfortably curled up in the chair next to your infirmary bed, ends up with Riley on his lap so you three could watch movies together while you recover.

- He tends to get frustrated and cry, but only a tiny bit, a few tears slipping from his eyes when he watches you, his heart hurt for you. Of course, he has seen a lot in his time as a soldier, he lost many friends, but he hadn't ‘lost’ someone like this before. He wanted to protect You but he couldn't figure out how.

Logan Walker:

- Logan didn't react much physically to the news you were back at base, back in the infirmary. He was told what had happened to you.. But he didn't visit at first, letting the rest of the Ghosts members visit you.

- He did visit at night though, when there wasn't supposed to be visitors, he snuck in. Silently sitting on the edge of your infirmary back, staring back at your dull eyes. At first he was surprised you were awake but he simply sat there.. so you wouldn't have to be alone again.

- Logan would stay the whole night, tapping your arm.. He ignored if you flinched, he understood what happened to those who have been brainwashed by the Federation. He tries to respect your space, doing just soft taps to let you know he was there every once in a while.

- Logan formed a habit to spend every night in your infirmary room, as if he was ‘guarding’ it for you. Ensuring no one came in, no matter how many times Elias tells him to allow you to sleep.. He does, but he's going to be around while you do.

- Logan simply wants to protect you, ensuring the Federation couldn't get you again, even though there is a slim chance of anyone getting into HQ, he likes to think it eases your mind, even if you couldn't or didn't voice it. 

- He'd sit there for hours, moving to sit next to you.. sometimes he would lay his head on your forearm, to sleep near you. Sometimes he would shift his head onto your chest to simply hear your heartbeat to ensure you were alive.

- Mentally Logan is breaking down, unable to handle the fact you were no longer the you he knew well. Not taking well to the fact your memories were messed with, so he tries to make you remember, using the rare photos he has of you and the team to try and show you.

Keegan P. Russ:

- Keegan broke in the moment he got word of your return, scaring all the medics as he kicked down the door (he didn't have to, it was unlocked, but he didn't realize It) as he stormed in. He would say your name, as he walked over to you. He sorta aggressively grabbed your shirt, to check your now bandaged wounds, just simply checking you over himself to just see you were alright, his gloved hands firmly checking over each of your now bandaged wounds.

- After a bit, he would grumble and sigh as grab the chair to the side, dragging it, the noise being loud, if you flinch he would place his hand on over your collarbones as if to keep you down, murmuring a soft shush as he did so.

- His hand would hold yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he would ensure no one else was around before being a bit affectionate with you. “You better be fuckin’ alright” Keegan would mutter under his breath.

- His hand stays firmly on your body, your chest, your arm. Your hand, he doesn’t care if you're brainwashed, he silently cares that you're alive. He’s willing to put up with you, he didn’t need you to remember (despite the fact, that he silently wishes for you to), he just needs you to be aware he’s there. Silently holding you, protecting you. He won’t admit it out loud, but all his actions while being around you are to protect you from further harm.

- He stays with you for a few hours every day. Leaving for missions when he needs to but he always usually returns to your side to inform you about his day. Aggressively challenges you, pissing you off with his snide comments, riling you up to do something.. anything. That's all he wanted, to get you back to your usual self.

- He would.. be a bit more patient than usual, sighing as he settles in the chair next to you. Ends up with his legs kicked up on your bed, his hand tightly holding yours, murmuring insults under his breath at the world.

- He would end up putting your favorite shows on, informing you of anything you couldn't remember, he knows it all. You're favorite character, favorite moment, anything you question about yourself, he probably knows it. 

- He plays music too, any music you like. As if trying to subconsciously make you remember anything. He would mutter the lyrics under his breath, having learned any songs you used to like in the time you weren't around. 

- His hand rests on your chest, feeling your heartbeat. He silently counts along to it, to ensure you were alive, well, and your heartbeat was beating at a decent pace.

- Keegan was willing to get you revenge as well, working his body to its limits on every mission to get rid of any Federation soldier in his path, he cared for his teammates a lot, and knowing what you went through, he would make them regret it

- Keegan is angry, angry at the world, the Federation.. Maybe a bit at you, despite knowing it was stupid. It wasn’t your fault you were captured, maybe he was also angry at himself, but he simply kept that anger for himself and any Federation soldiers he comes across in the future.

Thomas A. Merrick

- Merrick is surprisingly gentle, his hand resting on your shoulder as he sits on the chair next to your infirmary bed. He shifted the binders of work he needed to do on the floor by his seat as he checks up on you. 

- He tends to just quietly work by your side. It was a win-win for him, he gets to stay by your side while also finishing up on work. Sometimes he would talk when you are awake. Sometimes just telling you about things you had missed while gone for the months you were tortured and brainwashed.

- He would also apologize for all that you went through, he feels bad. He understands he couldn't control what happened but he regretted not moving fast enough to save you.

- Merrick would check up on you as well, checking your bandages, it's not that he didn't trust the medics, he did. But he felt like sometimes he just had to see for himself you were okay.

- He would be there, he would call himself stupid if he wasn't, he liked just talking to you, it reminded him of what your relationship was like before you were brainwashed..  or just talking to you. He didn't need you to speak back if you didn't feel like it, or couldn't.

- He would take you on walks, leading the way, or showing you around HQ again, even if you couldn't remember the way around. Merrick gladly will show you around, as many times as you need. He would also remind you of funny stories, and explain where it took place to try and get you to remember.

- Merrick is saddened and pissed off, but he understands, he couldn’t be sad forever. Yes, he will grieve the past version of you that he knew very well. But he simply kept that quiet and helped you recover. Merrick knew he would like the you, you are despite you being brainwashed, and he will continue to support you through it all. But on the field? Suddenly he gets more scary, yelling a lot more, and aggressively taking out Federation soldiers.

Kick:

- Kick is there, by your side while he has a break in his work, his hand firmly holding your forearm as if to ensure he doesn't ‘lose’ you again. He doesn't talk the first few days of your return, he glances away when your dull eyes meet his.

- He would also pick up one of your hobbies, even if you forgot all about it, if it was a video game, he would play the game and remind you all about it, what you liked, which characters you liked, show you your account and make his own. If you liked drawing, he would attempt to get into it. Basically just picks up any hobbies you had, to try and re-teach you, wanting to see the passion/love you had for it return.

- He’s a bit overbearing, wanting to see everything, every injury, every one who enters your room, he just wants to ensure you are okay.

- He uses a military drone to ‘entertain’ you, even if you don't react much and just watch, he's happy, talking you through his own hobbies for hours at a time. He just is trying to spend time with you, he almost lost you, and he wouldn't take his time for granted anymore.

- His hand is usually resting on you, your shoulder, forearm, knee anywhere you feel comfortable with. 

- He would sometimes tell you about his day, or something stupid Logan and Hesh have done as of late. 

- He would sneak in food, whatever you liked before getting brainwashed, he would cook it himself for you, the cost doesn't matter, if you liked it, he buys or cooks it. Leaves a note that he did indeed bring you food for the medics incase they needed to know but he does it before he leaves so the he doesn't have to face the medics.

- He also brings you your stuff, things you liked or like to do, will bring you books, papers, yarn anything really you want or can do. 

- He frowns when you don't react to the things he brings, as he sees you don't have the passion for any thing you used to like. He doesn't like seeing you.. Brainwashed, doesn't like that you don't respond, and only respond to orders. He will be here while you heal, understanding you would never be the same person he once knew.

- He tries to hype you up, oh you sat up for the first time since getting back? He's hyping you up, you talk for the first time since being tortured, you got this! He's hyping you up every step of the way on your journey to heal.

- He’ll do something stupid just to see you smile, he would make Logan and Hesh do something stupider to just see you smile, encourages stupid shit to Logan and Hesh, saying that yeah.. that would make you smile. But ends up just laughing at the two, and using them as his own amusement while ensuring he would be by your side the whole time.

Riley: (Honorary Dog mention) 

- Riley is sat by the side of your bed when he isn't with Hesh, firmly sat there to protect You.

- Barks for medics when you ‘need’ it, swiftly learns that when your hand brushes against his tail, he needs to bark loudly for a medic to check up on you.

- He waits for you to be ‘better’ so he could get you to play fetch with him, but for now.. until you heal, he is willing to wait by your side. 

- After a few months of your healing journey, Riley sets up to lay on the bottom of your bed instead of on the floor.. flops his head by your handcuffed hand so you can pet him.

- Riley is very loyal, staying put for hours at a time, when he wakes up, his eyes glance at you. To ensure you were alive, awake, and aware. If you sleep too long he chomps (lightly) on your hand to wake you up.. if you don't, Riley goes running off to the first Ghosts member he could find to drag them over to you.

[funishment-time]

Do you ever think about how Junko is canonically a devent enough caretaker that the warriors of hope loved her and felt safe around her (Jataro's fairytale art says a lot about how Junko treated him), how they have nothing bad to say about her even when told she was using them, how Junko saved 5 kids from committing suicide and treated them with more kindness than they had ever known.

And sure, manipulation and all, Monaca did have the resources Junko needed, but between her considering a killing game her way of showing affection towards her classmates, I can't help but think Junko did care about those kids, cared so much that she played both sides in a civil war to keep it going (Kurokuma and Shirokuma) and put those kids in a nightmare scenario disguised as heaven because despair is how she shows love.

Do ever think about how the warriors of hope are going to have to grow up with the knowledge that the one person who cared enough about them to save them over and over is also, like, the furry anti-christ.

anon i think about this CONSTANTLY. i think about how Junko was quite literally nothing but Good in the eyes of those kids and how i really don't know if they'll ever be fully "deprogrammed" so to speak. how do you tell four to five severely abused little babies that the person who saved them, treated them well, and showed them an iota of hope...was actually, like, worse than Hitler or whatever? the furry anti-christ indeed. even Nagisa, who seemed to be the most openly self-aware of Monaca's Wee Underlings, admitted that if Junko abused them, he'd rather she did it than adults/their parents.

maybe that's why the WOH got shafted a bit in the HPA arc's finale: there was no short way to Communicate what "saving" them mentally, physically, and tbh spiritually would have taken, if they could be saved at all. (granted, the way DR3 went was still stupid, but perhaps better than attempting any other ending narrative for them, all things considered.)

i do still wish we could have one tiny little manga about them post-DR3, though. i don't need therapy speak and softness and tears, that's for fanfic, but like one panel of indication that someone's keeping tabs on them from afar. maybe dropping them medical supplies and new clothes every six months. tag and release with the feral cats, y'know. that's it