#though the worst part is that i might wake up to something worse

[angorsuggestions]

Sometimes, you wake up, assess the situation, decide that perhaps it's too early in this century (or any century) to deal with whatever is going on, and go back to sleep

Hopefully, it'll blow over in a week.

[animeyanderelover]

Since you're starting JJK, can you do the sleeping with a yandere ask for Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Nanami, Gojo and characters of your choice?

I’ll be going on a vacation during my holidays so expect little to no updates from me then. Those sleeping habits that are what I imagine those characters to be like, by the way.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship, obsession, possessive behavior, delusion, clinginess, abduction

Sleeping with a Yandere

Itadori Yuji

🩷​Yuji is a walking cuddle bear already if you two aren't sleeping in the same bed because he just can't get enough of his sweetheart. An abduction is never something that Yuji sees himself doing nor do you really so with the so unexpected abduction your relationship falls apart and it breaks Yuji's heart. Maybe some part of his brain can understand why you're as upset as you are right now but considering that he only resorts to an abduction in extreme situations, another part of him is just as stubborn to believe that he has done only something to be able to protect you. It isn't like he plans to imprison you forever after all. His delusions have even made him hope that you'd want to share a bed with him yet he resigns himself to your rejection and prepares a futon for you in another room.

🩷​One of the most obvious problems with Yuji isn't even something that is his own fault. Sukuna has to make some comments from time to time to try to annoy and anger the boy which might happen whilst both of you try to sleep as well. He always slaps the mouth of Sukuna that suddenly appears and apologizes to you slightly embarrassed about the inconvenience. Otherwise Yuji sleeps well, really well. Maybe sometimes a bit too well as you can't help but wonder how you can get him to wake up when you awake in the middle of the night and feel the urgent need to go to the bathroom. It always takes you a minute or two of shaking, light slapping and whispering his name until he wakes up and lets you out of his arms because his grip is too strong for you to free yourself alone. He snores slightly but that isn't the worst, you'd much rather make a fuss about the fact that he tends to drool on you in his sleep.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​As Megumi's darling you'd do the both of you a favor by being a reassuring individual since the Jujutsu Sorcerer tends to be very easily paranoid. He's had a case of being stressed around people before yet now with your addition to his life, this all becomes just multiple times worse. Ultimately it is this paranoia that drives him to the act of an abduction and similar to Yuji, he partially knows why it would scare you. Yet he has never had problems with justifying questionable actions with his love for you in mind so this won't be any different in this scenario. Why don't you understand that this was all done for your safety?? A strong negative response from your side leads to avoidance as he gives you time, gives himself partially time too to calm himself. Both of you sleep in different rooms during that time, although you know that he still keeps an eye on you.

💙​He doesn't want to show a very strong response when both of you start sharing a bed, it isn't his style. He would be lying though if he would say that he isn't looking forward to it. It's one of the highlights of his entire day where he has to exhaust himself with the antics of his fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers and pressure from the Zenin clan so spending the hours of the night with your warmth close to his body always reminds him that there's still something good left for him, a person who makes all the drama durable. I see him as someone who needs hours to fall asleep simply because there's so much going on in his mind and often it happens that Megumi goes through interactions you had with people that day and start overthinking certain gestures and words you exchanged with them. He isn't someone with a deep sleep either and worst of all is that he tends to wake up a lot at night, his gaze always searching for you every time that happens and if he doesn't see you, he tends to freak out a bit.

Zenin Maki

💚​If her darling is acting like a crybaby after their abduction, there might be signs of very mild annoyance from Maki's side but otherwise she is very patient. She fully understand why you're upset and mad at her, she's aware of what she has done. The aspect of protection dulls potential guilt though as she will always value your safety and life over your own feelings if there is no other way around it. She's so tough and strict but oddly fair at the same time because her cold facade doesn't mean that she just doesn't care at all. She's willing to give you some space and time for yourself as she's sure that you need it and as long as you don't try to escape or are seriously rude, she won't force you into anything. You get your own room with your own bed to sleep in and won't hear much from her for the next few days, although you know that she's still checking on you.

💚​She is looking forward to it but don't expect her to openly admit that. She isn't one to ask you first about this and if you're the one to suggest it first, she will never spot teasing you subtly about it for the rest of your life. She does her best though to suppress the smug grin that wants to appear on her face during the first few nights. She isn't actively cuddling you but you definitely have a problem at hand when she decides to swing an arm around your waist because subconsciously she tightens her grip once she falls asleep and since she has a very superior strength to the average human, you won't get up anytime soon unless you wake her up. She normally is able to sleep quite well but when she's stressed she experiences troubles falling asleep or tends to wake up multiple times at night. Normally she acts all tough and rarely talks to you about her own worries but if you ever witness her having an erratic sleep at night, you always know that there's something that is stressing her out.

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾His darling is screwed no matter how you might look at it, especially if they're only a human. Because this man has made it very apparent that he doesn't care for anyone or anything and even you won't be an exception for this. Sukuna has always been a man who takes what he wants and that applies for you just as much. You're an object of his affection and greedy desire, by all means he sees you as his valued possession more than he sees you as a person with feelings and rights. So you can't expect any sympathy from him after your abduction and you'd do your best to not get on his nerves because he can hurt you and he will do so if he feels like it. Sukuna only does what he wants and the only thing you can really do is take it silently in hopes of not angering him but he'd find it cute if you would always show a little bit of fear around him.

🗾​I'm not even sure if he needs any sleep anymore since his times as a human are long over although he has kept his memories from that time so he still remembers that humans need sleep. Although what you need doesn't have to mean by a long shot that he'll just give it to you freely. In fact I totally see him terrorizing your sleep sometimes for the shallow reason of his own sadistic amusement. Other times he only allows you to fall asleep if you let him join you in bed and he'll keep you otherwise awake nights on end until you're too tired to care anymore. You're incredibly dumb for letting him so close to you in your most vulnerable state and the times that he has considered abusing that vulnerability are numerous. Honestly, he's being the ultimate creep by just watching you sleep the entire time, hands roaming over your body to feel what is his but if he's feeling rather relaxed and mellow, he sometimes just buries his face in your neck, closes his eyes and enjoys your scent, your warmth, your heartbeat.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​Best of luck with Gojo after an abduction, better say goodbye to your privacy and personal boundaries because Gojo? He just doesn't give a single fuck about any of those. No, somehow he grows even more overbearing after you're permanently stuck in the probably biggest house that you've ever been in. Partially just because he feels like he has now his dream of living a peaceful and domestic life with his sweet lover without any stress from higher-ups or anyone objecting to this relationship. Now he can just love you and keep you for himself. It's a very strange and questionable way of fulfilling his dream but he is at a point in his life where he has given up to feel guilty and doesn't care anymore. He's always been the strongest to satisfy his own clan and the higher-ups of the sorcerer world so he deserves someone for himself. Someone for him and him only.

🩵​He's a clingy monster and you should already know this as he has barely kept his hands to himself during the entire time since you've known him and that has only grown worse the stronger his obsession got. There is no question, you are going to sleep with him in one bed from the moment you are imprisoned in your new home with him. He isn't even listening to your protests and complains and you'd better not provoke him unless you want to see him dropping his light-hearted facade. Seeing him asleep disturbs you but not because of his clingy behavior and tight hug he always gives you nor his surprisingly deep sleep but because he looks so terribly vulnerable. White hair covering his eyes, soft breaths escaping his lips and no teasing expression adorning his face. It's even worse when he initially wakes up and blue and sleepy eyes stare at you as he whispers, no, pleads you to never leave him. It breaks your heart a little.

Geto Suguru

🗻​​Suguru has broken your trust severely when you realize what he has been doing all along, abusing your trust and ignorance to his own advantage until you made him your most trusted person and told him all of your thoughts. Now you're here, imprisoned and surrounded by jujutsu sorcerers who share his views. You're a lesser being in here for being a non-sorcerer and you know that secretly most of the people here look down on you but only show some level of respect because you're Geto's precious love or whatever he's feeling for you. No one tells you what's really going on but you are smart enough to understand that those people possess very special powers and that something is always watching you even when you're all by yourself. So you never misbehave, aware what would happen otherwise.

🗻​He isn't over the fact that he's fallen in love with what he hates the most even after an abduction so you are sleeping elsewhere. A tiny room with a futon as if to rub your lesser position in your face but truth be told, he's doing this mainly because he secretly wants your warmth next to him at night. He's just trying to reject his desires as he doesn't want to fall too deeply into his infatuation but it's already too late to turn back and perhaps you're more surprised than anyone when one day he tells you you'll share a bed with him from now on. You even vocalize your confusion but shut up when he throws you a sharp glare, silencing you as he himself doesn't want to answer your question. Vocalizing his needs would only make it harder to brush off as something less after all. Geto doesn't want to show too much affection but subconsciously he always fails as his half-awake form always pulls you closer to his body, always desires to feel your warm body safely held against his own as his long hair tickles your neck and face.

Nanami Kento

💛​Here we have a man who is trying to be his most respectful to you after an abduction that he has been planning for a longer time now after a triggering accident, most likely something regarding his very protective feelings. He isn't scolding you for being scared and even lets you insult him all you want with a frightening calm expression on his face, only really stopping you if you try to escape, hurt him or yourself in which case you see his face flashing in anger and slight frustration as you realize how scary he can be if he chooses to be. He gives you space as much as he can but even then his presence is felt throughout your entire new life as you realize that Nanami apparently enjoys taking care of you to the point where he's being controlling with it. There's a certain schedule to your life now, one that he has prepared specifically for you.

💛​This even includes your bedtime as you have to be at a certain hour in bed and get enough sleep and have to get up at a certain time in the morning. Nanami isn't forcing you to share a bed with him though as he graciously prepares another room for you to stay and sleep in. So it's a decision based on consens after your abduction to sleep with him and he's another case of showing his emotions in a very controlled way whilst being deep down just relieved that the worst phrase of the abduction seems to be over now. His sleeping schedule is just as meticulous though so both of you go to the bed at the same time and stand up in the morning at the same time. Nanami is also another candidate who needs a bit longer until he falls asleep because he's also thinking a lot when he lies in bed and only silence surrounds him. He has always an arm wrapped around you but the grip isn't too tight for you to not be able to free yourself if you should ever feel the need to visit the toilet. He is a bit more of a sensitive sleeper though so try to be quiet if you don't want to wake him up.

[arieslost]

waking up from a nightmare, literally gasping for air and in seconds charles is by your side and holding you close. he’s whispering in your ear, trying to soothe you and is wiping your tears with his thumb bye i love my little precious leclerc

“my little precious leclerc” actually made me tear up i hope u know. i adore him

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

wake me up | cl16

you wouldn’t call it a recurring nightmare. more like a nightmare that started one night, years ago, and kept getting worse and worse as time went on, layers of hurt and fear and heartbreak settling on top of each other every time your subconscious displayed it in all its horrid glory. you can’t even pinpoint what the worst part about it is anymore.

it used to be waking up alone. by yourself, in your pitch black room, was almost as bad as being asleep and experiencing the nightmare. there was never anything to distract you from the feeling of tears sliding down your cheeks, your heart still racing from fear, your eyes conjuring up flashes of the nightmare even though you were awake.

now it’s waking up next to charles, wanting to wake him up, desperately craving the comfort that only he can give you, but refusing to do so because of how hard he works. you won’t deprive him of his sleep, certainly not for something as trivial as a stupid nightmare. especially because he has trouble falling asleep most nights; always thinking about things he might have forgotten to do, his schedule for the next day, the next race weekend, when he can get you your all access pass.

you always tell him not to worry about you, that he has enough on his plate and you knew that when you said yes to being his girlfriend. this, your nightmare, is certainly much more trivial than making sure you have a paddock pass for a race weekend. this isn’t even real. it doesn’t matter.

so when you sleep horribly because of it, and charles notices (because of course he does), you just brush it off, saying you couldn’t get comfortable, you were too hot, too cold, whatever excuse you can think up on a whim.

“you should’ve woken me up, amore.” it’s what he says every. single. time.

and you know he means it. that he truly wants you to wake him up so he can care for you in whatever capacity he possibly can. you just can’t bring yourself to do it because of this.

this time, though, you don’t have a choice.

there’s another terrifying layer to your nightmare tonight. you’re lucid to some degree, enough to know that you should have the ability to wake yourself up from this subconscious plane, but you’re incapable of doing so. you tell your eyes to open, but they’re glued shut like they have to see this through to the end, even though you know how this ends.

you fight, and fight, and fight, until finally, your eyes fly open, tears flooding your vision and a ragged gasp tearing its way out of your throat as you scramble into an upright position. the commotion wakes charles immediately, and he doesn’t even ask what’s going on before he springs into action.

“breathe, baby,” he murmurs softly, gathering you into his arms. “listen to my heartbeat.”

you’re trembling, trying your hardest to calm down as you instantly melt into his embrace, his warmth spreading into your limbs and working to ease the tension you didn’t know they were holding.

“i-i—” you try to say, your mouth struggling to form the words.

“shh, it’s okay. i’ve got you, i’m right here.” he whispers, kissing your forehead and running his hands along the backs of your own.

“i’m sorry,” you say finally, nuzzling your face into his neck and breathing in his comforting scent.

“don’t apologize,” he replies firmly. “is this why you’ve been having trouble sleeping?”

you nod slowly, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“why didn’t you ever wake me up?”

“i just...” you sigh, shifting closer to him and tilting your face towards him as he reaches to wipe your tears. “it’s stupid. i’ve been having this nightmare for years now, and it just keeps getting worse. this time, i couldn’t wake up. usually i just wake up and deal with it. you work so hard every day, and this really isn’t important—”

“i’m going to stop you right there, amore,” charles interrupts, cupping your face with both hands. “i don’t ever want you to say that anything you’re going through isn’t important.”

“but—”

“yes, i do work hard. i have a lot going on more often than not. but out of everything, i work hardest for this. us. do you know what the most important thing in my life is?”

“ferrari?” you answer immediately, only half joking.

“no, ma drôle de fille,” he laughs, “it’s you. i’m going to retire from racing one day, but i’m going to be with you until the day i die. and even after that.”

you feel yourself tearing up for a whole new reason.

“so don’t tell me that it’s not important,” he continues, leaning back into the pillows and bringing you with him. “if it’s bothering you, it bothers me too. you hear me?”

you nod.

“and you’ll wake me up next time?”

you nod again.

“good. now close your eyes. keep listening to my heartbeat. i’ll fight off the nightmares for you, okay amore?”

“you are so cheesy, cha,” you grumble, snuggling into his chest.

“shh, go to sleep,” he coos quietly, stifling a laugh as he pets your hair.

you shut your eyes dutifully, focusing in on the steady beat of his heart, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

you dream of him.

word count: 907

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ma drôle de fille = “my funny girl” (i hope)

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[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Silently, they swap seats. It feels ridiculous, how perfectly the whole exchange goes, how no-one else stirs, how the RV glides smoothly with Eddie's hands on the wheel.

“What about, uh, the walkman?” he asks, tries to sound matter-of-fact. Time for a new plan, time to think.

“No,” Steve says. There's a finality to his tone. “Max should keep it.”

Eddie exhales. “Okay, okay. There's—here, there's a radio.” He doesn't mention the fact that he's closer; knows that his hand would shake if he tried to reach for it. “Be great if you'd develop an emotional attachment to, like, all of the Top 40 right now, Harrington.”

There's a soft sound that might almost be a laugh. Eddie listens to Steve quietly moving around then returning to his seat, hears the static of the radio being turned on—volume low, as if Steve doesn't want to wake anyone up. The thoughtfulness, even now, makes something in Eddie's chest hurt.

But there's nothing, not even a whisper of a song, and then even the static stops. Steve has turned the radio off.

One second.

“No signal,” Steve says, and even though he's not looking at him, Eddie knows he's shrugging again, like it is what it is.

The panic Eddie had briefly kept at bay while trying to strategize comes flooding back. “Jesus Christ, this—this can't be happening.” There's another long pause, and Eddie inhales shakily, remembers how he hadn't noticed when Chrissy fell silent. “Hey, man, you've gotta—keep talking to me, okay, or I'm gonna lose it.” Let me know you're still here. Please.

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Talking. Um.”

“Um,” Eddie parrots. “Wow. Didn't finishing school teach you conversation skills?”

Steve laughs again—hushed but real. “Fuck off.” He sighs, then says, “God, this might be a weird thing to say—”

“Colour me intrigued.”

“—but I'm so relieved, dude, you have no idea.”

“You're right. That's an extremely fucking weird thing to say.”

“I didn't want it to be Max,” Steve says, so heartfelt that Eddie tightens his grip on the wheel. “Didn't want it to be... anyone, you know? It's—yeah, it's better like this.”

“‘Better’ is a strong word for it.”

“Mm. Like, come on, what's the worst he could have in store for me? The summer our AC broke, that was pretty rough—”

“Don't,” Eddie says sharply, and all at once the joking tone they'd built up evaporates. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don't...” Eddie swallows. Recalls when he'd cut through the gym to get to Drama Club, how he'd glance over at Cheer Practice and think, They've all got it made, haven't they? Shiny fucking picture-perfect lives. “Don't bullshit me, all right?”

“...Okay.”

Eddie scoffs weakly, tries to regain the banter they were sharing. “Hey, if you can't be honest now, when can you?”

“Sure, that's—that's fair.” Steve shifts in his seat. “I was talking to Max, about the... when it happened to her. And she said she thought of happy memories, so. Got an idea of what to expect, at least.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, the mild tone only barely covering his anxiety. “Know what you're thinking about, then?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. He's smiling; Eddie can hear it. “Got a few things in mind.”

“Good, that's... that's good.”

The road is getting more familiar: it won't be long until they're nearing the Welcome to Hawkins sign.

“Kinda impressed with you, Munson. Was expecting you to drive like a bat out of hell.”

“Ha, ha. Special occasion, and all—”

A pained gasp cuts through the air, and Eddie's stomach lurches. “Shit, shit, Steve—”

“I'm fine,” Steve says quickly, “I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.”

“Tell me the fucking truth. Please.”

“It's just my head. Hurts a bit. Not a big deal, I've had worse.”

From the clipped way Steve is speaking, Eddie knows it's more painful than he's letting on.

He slows and brakes at a stop light before taking the chance to, finally, look over.

Steve is staring straight ahead, eyes in focus, and Eddie suppresses a sigh of relief at the sight. But then he sees how Steve's jaw is clenched.

“How's the clock?” he says cautiously. Prays for a miracle.

“Still there. It's closer. And, um...” Steve's mouth opens, closes, opens again. “I'm guessing the black widows on the dashboard aren’t actually...?”

God, he says it so easily. Eddie can't comprehend the bravery of it. “No, there’s nothing there,” he says.

“S'okay,” Steve says, “I'll just look at you.”

“I've been told I'm a sight for sore eyes,” Eddie says dryly.

“Oh, I’d believe that,” Steve returns, somehow both matching Eddie’s tone and sounding completely sincere. He turns to Eddie and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This bit really isn’t so bad, Eddie,” Steve says gently. “Just some spooky pictures, really. That’s kids’ stuff. And you’re—you’re good company.” The light changes. Eddie looks away with reluctance, starts up the engine again. “I try my best,” he says lightly, and wonders how someone can be so close to… to… (he can’t say it; he won’t say it). So close to that, and still smile about it.

You’re incredible, Steve Harrington.

“Home sweet home,” Eddie murmurs as they pass the Welcome sign. “Hey, we made pretty good time, too.”

“I didn’t mean to be late,” Steve says nonsensically.

“What the—?”

“I didn’t, Dad, I didn’t. I’m not lying.”

There’s ice in Eddie’s veins. “No, no, no, stop—stay with me Steve,” he says, which is so fucking stupid, what, did he think he could solve this through sheer force of will? No matter how many times he begged, Chrissy never woke up.

But then Steve gasps, and it sounds like he did at Lover’s Lake, just before he got dragged back under. “Sorry, sorry. I’m still here.”

“Jesus. We’re—we’re here.” “We’re…? Right, yeah.” A deep breath. “Okay. New plan. My place first,” Steve says firmly. “We'll drop the kids off.” There's an unshakable resolve in his voice.

Eddie takes the next turning, doesn’t even enjoy the double take that Steve does at that, the fact that Eddie already knows his address. When he glances over, he sees beads of sweat on Steve’s face. Eddie speeds up.

Please, please. Just hold on.

[lycandrophile]

some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

[theblue6ook]

"A Sick Day" PT 2

Bruce invites a sick Y/N to stay at his home.

B (24) & Y/N (22)

A/N: I'm back... (let's be honest this one is not my best work, but we have better coming up)

The worst part of her illness wasn’t the migraine pounding in the back of her eyes, her high fever, or even the soreness in her throat. No. It was having to face Alfred after he’d heard about the condition of her sickness.

“I don’t know what’s worse. That Bruce, for the first time in his life, insisted on leaving the house, and in a blizzard - or him leaving to find you, on the verge of death, walking in it!” he bellowed at her. “Out of all the irresponsible-”

Y/N had been quiet since Bruce forced her into the car heading toward Wayne Manor. Alfred had even delightedly greeted her, not expecting the visit... that was until Bruce explained the circumstances. Y/N felt like branding him a tattle tale. The minute they walk in and he’s going on to Alfred, guess who walked to Wayne Enterprises today? She could’ve killed him. 

So now, she sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the main living area. Alfred made sure to cozy her up with a blanket and a cup of something warm and delicious before digging into her about being "irresponsible," as he said. As he dug further, Y/N felt her eyes drooping. Her body began to tingle delightfully. Down her sides, into her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. It was like all the stress from her day-to-day life, her illness, her radiator, was slithering out of her. She sank deeper into the chair, and as Bruce brought her bags in, he looked toward her sleeping form.

"Alfred," he said quietly.

"I'll get to you later," he snipped toward Bruce.

"Alfred," he said firmly, moving his head toward Y/N, and the old man turned toward her.

Alfred sighed deeply and pulled her blanket closer to her chin, taking the drink out of her still hand. He spoke mostly to himself, "What am I going to do with you two?"

“I’ll take her upstairs.” Bruce started to walk toward her until Alfred stopped him. 

“We shouldn’t wake her,” Alfred whispered, but Bruce looked weary. “She needs to rest and I don’t want to risk her waking up again.”

So they left her, in no doubt a medicated sleep in the cozy arms of the recliner by the crackling fireplace.

-

It was dark the next time Y/N stirred. Slowly she opened and rubbed her crusted eyes, her sign of a deep, unbothered sleep. For no longer than a second, she had no idea where she was. That was until her eyes drifted to the large family portrait hanging on the wall.

Leaning upwards in her chair she noticed her drink had long gone cold, now sitting on the table next to her, and the recliner she had been resting in had been leaned back to lift her aching feet. The fire was out, but it was still so warm in the living room. That might have had something to do with the fact that she was swaddled in two blankets. What time was it? Had she slept all day?

Unwrapping herself from the burrito of blankets, she stood on shaking legs. With a crack of her back, she moved toward what she thought she remembered to be the kitchen.

Y/N pushed through a set of dark oat doors and felt her socks slide against the checkered tile. Widening her blurry eyes, she looked toward the microwave clock, and there was no mistaking the time glowing off the stainless steel.

3 a.m.

So, that has to be incorrect. There was just no fathomable way she had fallen asleep this morning, slept all day, and then some. This had to be some stupid joke played by Bruce. It had to be. Grabbing her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, she lit the screen with a click.

3 a.m.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She threw her hands against her face groaning. Snow or not, sick or not, she was not the type to skip out on work and though it was her boss's fault she couldn't help but feel the impending doom for when she did have to play catch up. Maybe I can just get a head start tonight? I slept all day anyway.

Looking around the kitchen, Y/N realized she didn't even know where her work bag was, let alone any of her things. She didn't have a chance of finding it in the manor, especially when she's not used to so much space. Honestly, the least Bruce could have done was wake her up to take her to an actual bedroom, or even show her around the manor so she wouldn't get lost... but if he did wake her, she would have surely started working anyway and Bruce knew this. Hence her current predicament.

But she wasn't alone for long. The heat had kicked on, which definitely masked a general nighttime sound, but there was something off about the silence. She swore she almost heard a metallic clicking, like a heavy door, and then shuffling behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing. Just the glow of the microwave clock shining in the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

"HOLY SHIT!"

Turning, she noticed that standing in front of her was a very shirtless, very sweaty Bruce Wayne. The kitchen glow shined off his damp chest, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. This is so inappropriate, she kept thinking, yet her eyes continued moving downward-

He cleared his throat, grinning.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, "Don't you fucking scare me like that. What are you even doing up?"

"I was just at the gym."

Bewilderment struck her face, "It's 3 o'clock in the morning."

Bruce ignored her, opting to throw the back of his hand against her forehead with his brows furrowed. "Your fever is down, but you're still warm and a little flushed."

It wasn't the fever that warmed her cheeks. He was too close to her and too shirtless. She had never given too much thought to her boss's physique, but she's pretty sure spoiled billionaires aren't typically cut like he is. She stepped back quickly, looking toward the ceiling. 

"Okay, that's enough. I should probably get back to bed anyway.” Backing away toward the double doors, she paused, realizing she had no idea where ‘bed’ was. Bruce walked past her, his back was as impressive as his front.

With a grin, he opened the double doors and nodded his head in the direction of the living room. “Come on. I’ll show you where to go.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @stxrsberkshire

[eelnoise]

For the lyric prompt, 'i have my sentence now, at last i know just how you felt, i dig my fingers in, expecting more than just the skin' with Zoro? I don’t have anything specific in mind for this one, so feel free to wing it 😅

confluence

anon your brain has sent me into a frenzy. this fic is absolutely getting another part or 2 at some point because i have some thoughtssssss!!! anyway, hope you enjoy! zoro x gn!reader c/w: fluff!! zoro is injured but what else is new :)

With the most wounded of the crew still out of commission for the time being, the reality is that, for now at least, everyone is okay. They’d come out stronger from worse many times before now, and the reprieve of that alone should be enough for any one soul to rest. 

Though as soon as your tiny frets and forceful bouts of self-reassurance had qualmed enough for you to drift, taking the gentle hand of sleep’s guide and luring you off into an almost peaceful slumber does a swift series of rough knuckles rapping at the door to the tiny room you’d been given and a rumble of your name beyond it.

Your jaw tenses, the ever familiar tone of probably the single worst person to be up and about, and with haste you don’t expect, are you opening the door and looking right up at Roronoa Zoro. “What are you doing?” you lip sluggishly, brows furrowed in a strange expression that lies between annoyance and concern. “You know you need to be resting.”

“Feel fine,” he replies, pushing past you and just… allowing himself into the room. “Just tired.”

You click your teeth, but you just huff and close the door behind him. “At least sit, Zoro.” 

He doesn’t just sit, but lays flat on the bed with a harshness you’re not sure he should be exerting, and you can’t help but to sigh and smile weakly. Zoro looks at peace, both eyes shut as he stretches out his limbs, all but covering the mattress. It’s not often he looks so relaxed

Kneeling next to him, you begin to lovingly run your fingers through his hair, and a warmth floods your chest when he emits a very pleased hum in reply. “How’d you even know which room I was in? You’ve been knocked out cold for the past week.” It isn’t an attack, nor is your tone aggressive at all. If anything, it’s soft. 

He turns his head towards you, gaze locking onto yours as he feels the sensation of your fingers through his hair. There’s something in his eyes, something that speaks volumes about how much he appreciates this moment of intimacy - despite the fact that he usually wouldn’t show such vulnerability. Because even if he wouldn’t admit it, he is anything but ‘fine’.The extent of his wounds were enough to knock a fully grown elephant out for a week, let alone a human man. But what is Zoro if not durable? “Robin,” he answers, a short reply but one that makes sense the more you think about it. 

“Fair,” you concede, leaning your head on the edge of the mattress. “But you didn’t think to ask where your room was instead?” 

“Wanted ta see ya,” Zoro says casually, as if he hadn’t been on the brink of death mere days ago.

The admission hangs in the air between you two, and there’s a hint of guilt in his voice - guilt that he might have caused trouble by simply showing up unannounced like this. But then again, he never did follow social norms too closely in the first place.

He wanted to see you? He wakes up, aching and bruised, serrated with gashes and the first thing he means to do is to see you?

You feel your face flush, and you’re sure it's enough that even the incredibly oblivious swordsman would notice if his eyes were open. 

Zoro lifts his hand and reaches out, grabbing onto yours, holding it tightly as if afraid that if he lets go, you’ll vanish before his very eyes. He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “Needed somethin’ real bad.”

There’s no shame or embarrassment in his voice; only raw honesty and desperation. And it’s clear that he meant every word he said - because despite how tough he pretends to be, deep down inside lies someone who craves nothing more than a little bit of affection and care.

"Anything," you reply, eyes fixated upon the man beneath the touch of your fingers. "Anything you need, Zo.”

He takes a deep breath, the grip on your hand easing. "Just... didn’t feel right waking up without ya." It's a simple explanation, but it carries so much weight behind it. Despite being surrounded by people he considers friends and family, there was something missing that only you could fill. And in that moment, as he opens his eye and gazes at you longingly, it becomes clear that Zoro sees you as something more than just another crewmate or ally - you're someone who has the power to make him feel whole once again.

You smile, and when you lean in to press a kiss to his forehead you feel yourself being pulled onto the bed alongside him. The surprise makes you gasp, though once you feel his arms around you and your back against his chest do you hum into him, enjoying the warmth he provides. "Just be careful, okay?" you murmur, snuggling into him carefully. "Don't want you to rip yourself open or anything on my bed."

Zoro chuckles softly, pulling you even closer and wrapping his arms around you tighter. "Trust me," he says with a confident smirk, "I won't rip myself apart."

His body is still recovering from the injuries he sustained while fighting, but he seems determined to push through any pain or discomfort for the sake of being close to you. And as he holds you tightly, it becomes apparent that Zoro sees this moment as a rare opportunity to showcase how much he values your presence in his life - something that goes beyond the usual camaraderie shared among pirates.

In this intimate moment, there's a depth of emotion that transcends words, leaving both of you lost in a sea of feelings and care.

It's soothing, being in his arms. You hadn't realized just how much you missed this. Your relationship with Zoro had become something soft like this, him joining you for rests, naps, and just wanting to be around you. It was something you had to get used to through his emotional misguidance, but when things had become normal you learned just how to be affectionate with him, and now it's something you cherish and love. And though it never went further and mutual sought comfort, and even if you do consider the idea at times, you’re more than happy to lie here with him like this.

Zoro's arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as he feels the warmth radiating from your body. For a moment, he forgets about everything else - the pain in his side, the lingering exhaustion, even the fact that he's currently lying on top of your bed. All that matters is being near you, feeling your heartbeat against his chest and breathing in the scent of your hair.

As he holds you, memories flash through his mind - moments spent together over the years, from teasing banter to intense battles to quiet moments of respite like these. 

Zoro smiles, and even if you can’t see it, you can feel it. It’s in his very presence around you, his joy, his comfort, his you.

"I missed you," you quietly admit into his arm, and as the words leave you his grip tightens around your waist. And, god, does it feel like home.

"Missed ya too," Zoro replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Feels good to be back with ya."

He doesn't say anything more, but the sincerity in his tone speaks volumes. Even after everything they've been through together - the fights, the arguments, the misunderstandings - Zoro still finds solace in your presence, and he cherishes each moment he gets to spend with you.

And as you lay there together, wrapped in each other's arms, it becomes clear that your relationship has evolved into something far deeper than either of you ever expected. While neither of you may have explicitly admitted your feelings for the other, there's an undeniable connection that runs through every touch and every word exchanged between you two - a leash upon your hearts that defies definition yet remains stronger than steel.

Zoro closes his eyes, letting the warmth of your body envelop him as he slips into a peaceful slumber. His mind is filled with images of you - your smile, your laugh, your gentle touch. In this moment of relaxation, all thoughts of pain and exhaustion fade away, replaced instead by a sense of contentment and satisfaction.  

For a brief instant, he feels like he's found what he's been searching for - a true sense of belonging and purpose within the chaos of the world. And even as sleep claims him, he clings tightly to the memory of your embrace, knowing that it will serve as a source of strength and motivation as he continues on his journey towards becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

You both drift off, falling deep into the exact respite that you had sought prior to his inclusion.

And it’s perfect. 

—

You wake up slowly and twist around with care, taking in the sight of Zoro's face as he sleeps beside you. His features look so calm and peaceful, and you can't help but wonder if he's having pleasant dreams. Reaching out, you brush some strands of hair away from his face, stirring him from his slumber. "Did you sleep well, Zo? Good dreams?” you query as his tired gaze meets yours.

Zoro's eye flutters open, and he smiles weakly upon seeing you sitting up. "Yeah," he replies, his voice still slightly groggy. "You were in them."

The admission catches you off guard, but you can see genuine sincerity in his expression - a reflection of the depth of feelings he harbors for you despite not expressing them outright. "Thanks for bein’ here," he adds, offering a small nod of gratitude. "Makes everythin’ seem better."

You feel your face flush, his admission not just flattering you but truly moving you. Was it due to his most recent near-death experience that makes him fawn over you so? Whatever it may be, you smile and lean down to kiss his forehead - but you're taken by surprise when you're maneuvered downward until his lips press into yours in a bit of a forceful, inexperienced kiss, but one you reciprocate in earnest.

The kiss takes you both by surprise, but as it deepens, you can feel the passion and intensity that lies beneath Zoro's inexperience. He's always been fiercely protective of you, but now it seems like he wants to claim you in a way that goes beyond mere protection - to show everyone that you belong to him and only him.

Despite your initial shock, you find yourself responding to his kiss with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer as your hearts race and your bodies heat up. This unexpected moment of heightened  intimacy feels both thrilling and terrifying, like stepping off a cliff into the unknown.

Zoro's kiss is messy, but it's full of meaning. Words he cannot say aloud are spoken though each smack of your lips and hums of joy, and as his hand finds its way to your neck to press you closer to him, you find yourself melting into his palm.

Zoro's emotions spill out through his actions - the desperate need to hold onto you, the desire to mark you as his own, the raw passion that burns within him. It's a declaration of sorts, one that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you even without using words.

Despite the intensity of the moment, there's also a vulnerability to it that reveals just how much Zoro craves your affection and approval. He wants nothing more than to make you happy, to know that you feel the same way about him, and as he breaks away from the kiss with a ragged breath, he looks at you with a pleading expression that seems to say, "Was that okay?”

You nod, eyes heavy lidded and lips glossed with saliva and puffy with love. And it seems as if that’s all it takes for him to continue, as at once is Zoro upon you again, this time with a little more ease. You sigh into him when his hands reach your hips, it feels so right and so good, like a long awaited tether tying you both into a knot. You want to kiss away his pain and discomfort, to hold him to you until he's healed and whole. To be his anchor and his safe haven. To just be his.

Zoro's hands grip onto your hips tightly, holding onto you like a lifeline as he pulls himself closer, seeking comfort in the warmth and safety of your embrace. He feels like he can finally let go of all the pent-up emotions and anxieties that have been weighing him down since the battle - and in that moment of release, he feels a profound sense of relief wash over him.

As he leans against you, he closes his eyes once again, savoring the feeling of being held so closely by someone who means so much to him. It's a moment of pure bliss, one that makes all the hardships and struggles worthwhile, and he knows that he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Ten

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 3.0k (whew) Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, swearing, OC has anxiety, suggestive content, allusions to sex, polyamory, M/M/F

Gaz and Price find out

The week passes without incident. If anything, it's perfect.

During the day, I go to work. In the evenings, I come home to the two most perfect men in the world. Dinner is cooked - the table laid and the dishes washed - and I have a night of snuggling with my favourite people to look forward to.

Come the arrival of the weekend, our plans with the taskforce have been adjusted slightly. After a text exchange with Gaz, we've arranged a trip to a nice beer garden near his parents' house instead of them all coming to the apartment. He seemed a little confused at first, but didn't push his questioning any further when I told him that I needed to talk to John about something.

Something that I thought would be better raised on neutral ground.

Every waking hour this past week, I've been agonising over what to say to John - planning a way to tell him about my relationship with the boys. Now that I know it's not just a fling or a bit of fun for them, it's made me re-evaluate things. Above all else, I need him to know.

Johnny is on the cusp of making a full recovery and if - when - him and Simon get pulled back into active duty, I need John to keep them safe for me. I know that he'd lay down his life to protect them already - they're his boys, after all - but I want him to know just how important they are to me. That and, in all the time that I've known him, I've never been able to keep anything hidden from him for long.

The last thing I want is to blurt it out at the worst possible time later on down the line.

Even as we're driving to the beer garden, I'm jittery with nerves, twisting the oversized sleeve of my cardigan around and around over my fist. Every once and a while, Si tears his eyes away from the road ahead to shoot me a worried glance. Johnny's been kind enough to pretend not to notice, chattering away as a form of distraction from his seat in the back, leaning over the centre console to stay included.

Not that he's missing much. I've barely spoken since we woke up this morning.

Both of them know how important this is to me. How important it is that everything goes right. That I tell John first.

Ever since Alex died, John has been there for me. He stepped up like a second father, having a hand in raising me despite the fact that I was already way past my formative years when we met.

Hence my worry.

I'm about to tell the man who I view as a father that I'm sleeping with not one, but two of his best soldiers. People who Gaz - even though he meant well - has told me that he views as a second family. And I can't help but worry that this might all be too much for him. That it might damage my relationship with him in some fundamental, irreparable way, or worse - that it might put a strain on his relationship with the boys.

"Stop fussing about something that hasn't even happened yet, love," Simon says from the driver's seat, voice deep and full of gravel as usual.

It looks like the grace period has ended then.

"How are you not nervous?" I bite back. It's impossible to keep the edge out of my voice, and I immediately regret snapping at him.

Logically, I know that it's not their fault I'm so anxious, but I can't help getting defensive.

There's so much going on - so many small things that are shifting around to accommodate this new, massive change in my life. It's things that I hadn't even thought about before; stupid stuff like trying to plan dates, navigating how to introduce them to people, and doing things as a three that would normally only involve two people. Previously insignificant things that now feel like a field of landmines, formerly a peaceful meadow that I didn't even have to think about. That I took for granted.

"What's got ye so pent up, lassie?" Johnny asks softly. His hand reaches out from the backseat, the warm, familiar weight of it coming to rest on my shoulder.

I lean into his touch, allowing myself to bask in the casual display of affection for a moment before letting out a pitiful huff.

"Everything."

"Explain."

"I... I-" Be honest. "John might hate me after this. He might think that I set out to make this happen; that I'm compromising the integrity of your taskforce by being with you the way I am. By being a distraction. And he might... he might see me differently when he finds out about the three of us being together." I can sense Simon gearing up to protest in my peripheral vision, so I stare straight ahead through the windscreen as I carry on, unwavering. "And then there's the fact that Winnie is going to be home from France soon, and you're going to leave and go back to work. You won't even let me go to the barracks, so when you're between deployments we'll have to live under Winnie's feet - which isn't fair to her or us. And it's going to kill me inside when you go no contact... what if I really need to talk to you and you aren't available? And I won't be able to make it better by talking to John either, because he'll be gone too, or he won't be talking to me..."

My rambling comes to an abrupt halt; palms clammy as I desperately gulp down a breath of fresh air. The car is silent save for the faint hum of the engine. Johnny's fingers lightly squeeze my shoulder, offering some much-needed reassurance. The contact grounds me; centres my thoughts.

"Well," Si began, clearing his throat. I might have been imagining it, but I could've sworn that there was a subtle shake to his voice. A hint of nervousness. "Maybe the three of us could look for a place together? Close enough to the apartment that you can visit Winslow whenever you want."

My heart grew two sizes inside my chest.

The steely, aloof Simon "Ghost" Riley himself was suggesting that we get a place of our own. A home. Something that the two of them never had before now. Before me.

It takes a considerable effort on my part not to tear up, especially as I spot the road marker for the beer garden on the narrow country lane up ahead.

"You would do that for me?" I ask, tone brimming with barely-contained emotion.

Simon nods, indicating right and easing the car into the car park. Once we're parked up, the engine switched off and stationary, he turns to look over his shoulder at Johnny. I watch them; the look that they share loaded with such love and mutual understanding.

It's not like it was before. I don't feel that undercurrent of jealousy that I used to - there's no cold, ugly thing clawing inside my chest. No; I know that I'm included in that affection. I'm not an outsider anymore.

And it makes me feel ashamed.

Ashamed for getting so caught up in how everyone else might perceive this. Ashamed for being self-conscious of something so beautiful and pure and sweet that the three of us share.

"'ah think we should all get on the internet tonight and start lookin'," Johnny adds, running the calloused pad of his thumb along the dip of my collarbone. "Start gettin' some viewings booked in. I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be on injury leave for, lassie, and I'll be happier knowing that we're all set up before Si and I leave."

"I've already marked some places for you two to look at," a gravelly voice with a Manchester accent states.

My head whips around to Simon and the jerk of Johnny's hand on my shoulder tells me that he's done the same. Sure enough, Simon's cheeks and ears are tinged with a fierce blush, hazel eyes refusing to directly meet my gaze.

When he notices our attention, he looks up, scowling at both of us. "What?"

Johnny laughs, only earning him an even sharper glare and a growled oh fuck off.

"There's nothing wrong with it, Si," I say, trying to keep the amusement out of my tone in case he thinks I'm laughing at him. Because that went down so well last time. "It's cute."

Si's expression turns deadpan as he looks at me.

Admittedly, that may have been the wrong thing to say to him - my 6'7, scar-flecked army lieutenant.

Hoping to quell some of that ire, I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean forward in my seat, closing the distance between us in to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. If anything, it only makes him blush harder.

Johnny whines from the back. "Where's mine? 'ah do adorable shit all the time."

Before he can complain any more, I lean back over the centre console and kiss him too. But - ever the crafty one - he snakes a hand around the back of my neck, tangling his fingers into the loose strands of my hair and angling my head as he deepens the kiss.

Ignoring the impatient huff from Si, Johnny presses something - a button hidden along the edge of my chair - and the backrest thuds down, landing on the vacant seat beside him. With strong hands and practiced ease, the Scotsman hauls me from the front passenger side and onto his lap. Calloused hands find purchase on my thighs as I scramble to straddle him.

Every worry melts away as Johnny's warm, rough hands slip under the skirt of my summer dress, blunt nails raking over the skin of my ass and hips, sending a shiver skittering down my spine. I groan, arching into him - savouring the moment.

"Can't you do this later?" Simon grumbles. My head snaps over my shoulder to see him, watching us intently, eyes hazed with that far-away, hungry look that he gets whenever he's turned on.

"Jealous because you can't fit back here too?" I ask teasingly, punctuating it with a drawn-out grind of my hips against the front of Johnny's faded jeans.

Johnny whines and Simon's eyes flare with the challenge.

"Trust me, I can," he managed with gritted teeth. Just as he unclips his seatbelt - expression filled with lustful promise - his phone pings with a message alert. One quick glance has him groaning for an entirely different reason that Johnny. "We'll finish this tonight at home. Gaz said Price is wondering where we are."

I swallow, all of that worry tumbling back in without the promise of Johnny and Simon to distract me.

"Fucksake!" Johnny complains, lifting his hands to drag them down his face. "Yer tellin' me 'm gonna have to look my boss in the eye, telling him 'm fuckin' Tali with a tent in my trousers?"

Simon grins, a wicked, brutal thing. "Yep. And I'm going to be smiling the whole time."

Gaz has good taste.

I thought the beer garden would just be a bog-standard grass-and-some-benches type of thing, but I'm pleasantly surprised by the sight waiting for us when we step out of the open patio doors at the side of the pub. Half of the space is decked, with a railing and steps leading down to a semi-circle of wooden, shed-like structures, housing tables with built-in benches. There are still normal tables, scattered around in the open space with large, white parasols to offer shade from the blaring sun, but I can't see John or Gaz amongst the people there.

"They're in shed number five apparently," Simon supplies, sliding his phone into his back pocket. He points in the direction of a shed off to the side, the wooden siding painted a mockingly cheerful shade of yellow.

I look to him and Johnny in turn before making my best attempt at schooling my features into a smile. The flash of concern in Johnny's eyes is enough to tell me that it looks as pitiful as it feels.

Placing those large hands of his on my shoulders, he smiles down at me. I want to kiss him, but I know that Gaz and John have probably already seen us - watching from the open doorway of the shed. It's a risk I can't afford to take right now.

"Lassie," Johnny says in his most soothing voice, hands running up and down the lengths of my arms before stopping at my wrists, lacing my fingers with his. "You'll be fine. We'll be there the whole time; we won't leave ya alone out there." Then, ducking down until his lips brush against the shell of my ear, he adds, "We'll make it up to ye tonight."

When he pulls away, a smug, cocky half-smile on his face, I'm blushing furiously - cheeks burning with heat.

Si takes one look at me and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Brilliant. Can you two not keep it in your pants for five minutes? Behave, children."

With that, he marches off ahead, leaving us to trail behind at a much more leisurely pace. A few feet away from the doorway to the bright yellow shed, I untangle my fingers from Johnny's, wanting to keep some sense of normalcy for just a little while before I have to break the news.

A quiet, cowardly part of me wants one of the boys to do it for me - even though we all agreed that it was better coming from me.

Sucking in another deep breath, I relax my face and step into the shed behind Johnny. Gaz and John are on one side the table, Simon and Johnny naturally slotting in beside one another on the other. Before I can sit down next to John - the side where there is slightly more space - Johnny grabs onto my hand, guiding me down into the tiny gap between him and the shed wall.

I giggle as he jostles himself, bumping his hip against Si's repeatedly in an attempt to give me some more room, and I look up just in time to catch the tail-end of a glance between John and Gaz. My throat dries out.

"So... how are the ribs healing, Soap?" John asks, dark eyes homing in on the Scotsman.

Johnny squirms in his seat. "Yeah. I guess they're healing just fine, Captain. I've been doing all the exercises physio 've told me to do."

"And he's had this one at his beck and call," Simon adds, nodding his head in my direction. He's wearing a black surgical mask to conceal the lower half of his face, but I can tell by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that he's smiling. "Perfect little nurse, she is."

I grumble, wanting desperately to hit him. "Ironic, given you're the one with the nurse outfit."

There's a pause as Gaz breaks down, his silent, shaking laughter devolving into a full-blown laughing fit. John tries in vain to hide his mouth behind his hand, but the quivering of his broad shoulders betrays his own amusement.

He looks up, offering me a kind smile. It's so warm that it makes my chest ache. "I'm... I'm not even going to ask," the stoic captain says.

"It's not a nurse outfit," Si protests, deadpan.

I flash him a saccharine sweet - if slightly vicious - smile. "Of course. Whatever you say, Nurse Riley."

He's bright red now. If he were any more embarrassed, he'd be steaming from the ears. "Johnny thought that it would be a funny joke gift for..."

"Don't ye worry, love," Johnny says, joining in on the light-hearted ribbing with zero remorse, "we won't judge ye."

We carry on laughing, joking around with one another. Gaz talks about his family and John tells the boys about something that someone they work with - a woman called Kate - told him the other week. Something about an upcoming mission that they might be assigned.

Before long, Johnny announces to the table that he's thirsty, making me stand up so that he and Si can clamber out of the shed. Despite his protests, they drag Gaz out with them too - insisting that they need a hand carrying the drinks back out. Which is bullshit.

I look up at John. For the first time all day, we're alone.

It's now or never.

"John... there's something that I've been wanting to talk to you about," I start, voice shaking slightly. I can hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears as my fight or flight response kicks in; my skin feeling too tight over my bones.

Immediately, there's a look of concern forms on his face, his brow lowering and making him look every bit his age. "What's wrong? I knew you seemed too quiet - have the boys said something to upset you?"

I shake my head firmly. "No. They haven't done anything. It's- um, it's something that I've done, actually."

Instead of asking any more questions, John just sits back, head resting against the wooden siding as he watches me with those dark, observant eyes. It reminds me of the day we first met - when he came to tell me about Alex; the way that he just sat and watched. The way he listened.

"I'm seeing Johnny."

John's face lights up with a look of complete and utter surprise.

"And Simon."

His jaw slackens. After a moment of stumbling over his words, he says, "Oh... okay."

Now it's my turn to be confused. "Okay?" I repeat slowly, turning the words over in my mouth.

He nods. "Okay."

My eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

John lets out something between a sigh and an exhale, lifting a hand to rub his temples. A beat of silence passes. Then another. "Tali, I trust your judgement. Have done ever since I got to know you," he says, every word measured and considered, spoken in that low, soft voice of his. "You're a smart woman; you know what you're doing. Acting like you don't... that would be doing you a disservice. And I know the boys. It'd take a very special person to get them to open up, and - if anyone - I think that person would be you."

My chest squeezes.

Acceptance. This is acceptance.

Not hatred, or disgust, or anger.

"I... thank you, John," I say, my voice coming out as barely more than a whisper. Heat pricks at my eyes. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

John's eyes glitter. "You can tell me anything, kid. Nothing you say will ever change anything between us."

When Johnny and Simon return with Gaz and two trays of drinks not even five minutes later, I'm tucked into John's side, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders as I sniffle into his t-shirt.

"Everything alright?" Simon asks, eyes locked onto my tear-stained face.

I beam up at him, flashing him the widest, brightest grin I can muster. Feeling lighter than I have for a while now, I say, "Everything's perfect." Turning my attention to Gaz, I add, "Hey, Gaz?"

Slotting himself into the seat beside me, he swipes a pint off of the tray and hums in acknowledgement.

"I'm in a relationship with Johnny. And Simon."

Gaz hums again. "Figures."

Simon leans forward then, eyes practically popping out of his head. "What do you mean figures?"

He snorts out a laugh and, with a playful glimmer in those big dark eyes, he says, "Well, it would take a saint to put up with a grumpy old bastard like you. And Tali's no saint. So I figured she was getting some pretty good dick to-"

"That'll do," Simon barks, putting a swift end to that line of thought.

When the rest of us finally stop laughing, we settle in to enjoy our drinks and soak up an afternoon in the sun.

a/n: hey guys! so this was it: our longest chapter yet :) in the next few days, I'm going to be making some changes to the layout of this account - adding a navigation page in preparation for releasing some other non-Double the Love content etc etc. - see you again very soon, lapetitelapin :)

[luvrxbunny]

hi, im loving your work and i'm not sure if this is like where your at cause it's just regular old eddie but i was wondering if you'd write something like reader and eddie are both really into each other but haven't said anything and she knows how into d&d he is so she makes on of his campaigns into a comic but shes been so busy she unintentionally pulls away and eddies worried she finally "woke up" and realized hes a freak. maybe something like she's from new york banished to her aunts in hawkins aunts cause she has to repeat senior year again and eddie immediately is like wow. but happy ending obviously, maybe some smut if the spirit moves you. i hope this isnt too specific i know your last request was more vague but i had the idea and thought it'd be cute, if your not into it though that's fine i figure it never hurts to ask right 😘

hi! thank you for requesting! there actually isn't smut in this one but if you'd like some you can request a part 2 kinda thing!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie feels you pulling away and assumes the worst.

Warnings: smoking (weed), misunderstandings and emotions (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 6.9k

A/N: idfk this might be word vomit- i tried please have mercy

Eddie was the first friend you made here in Hawkins after being abandoned by your family. The sting of failing your senior year was enough, but the pain of your family being too embarrassed to house you anymore made it even worse. You had to watch all summer as all your other friends packed up for college while you were packing to be sent away. You were forced to go live with your aunt, which wasn’t the worst situation you could’ve ended in. 

She’s nice to you, understanding. She doesn’t believe in traditional schooling, she says it’s ‘no wonder’ that you failed. She claims ‘You’re a special girl with the mind of an artist’ and ‘schools aren’t built for people like you two’. You love her, you just can’t stand some of her habits. 

She lives a very hippie lifestyle. She forces you to walk to school, even on the first day, saying it was good for your mental health but all it did was make you incredibly sweaty for your first day. Although it ended up working out for the best. 

You arrived panting and sweaty from your rush over. She hadn’t told you the night before that you’d be walking so you didn’t wake up early enough. You could not stand being late to first period, not wanting to deal with the entire class watching you find a seat. So you had to haul ass to school. You had planned out an incredibly cute outfit that was now ruffled, mussed, and damp with sweat. You wanted to cry as you sat down in the back left corner of the classroom, getting a nice view of the field beside the school, the trees and flowers that live there. You’re huffing and puffing, your breathing all out of order from you trying to regulate it as students pour in. You watched as the cliques formed themselves, having been established in the previous years. You took out a notebook and buried yourself in it, hoping no one would approach you. 

The other students settled down and the teacher began her orientation. You aren’t listening as she speaks, watching the rain that's pattering gently on the classroom window. She was going on about the syllabus, informing you of the incredibly boring things you’d be learning in her class when he burst through. Opening the door with so much force that it slammed on the wall behind it, he was huffing and puffing, nearly soaked in rain with a bag loosely thrown over his shoulder. The thing about him that stuck with you though, was the blinding, dimpled, smile that was on his face. Despite being drenched, late, and the current center of attention, he had the largest smile you had seen all day. It was so genuine that you were smiling along with him without even realizing it. 

“Mr. Munson. I see you’re in my class again…” She spat the words at him so venomously you expected to see his smile drop, falter at least but it widened instead. 

“I am! Yes. I am! And I’d like to focus more on what that says about my… my determination, rather than what I may lack in this particular subject.” Again? Maybe he’s a repeat like me?

Something about the thought made you feel a bit fond of him. 

“Mhm. That’s nice. Have a seat.” She continued to drone on as he looked around for a seat, his eyes widened at you, seeing you already smiling and staring at him. This snapped you out of your trance and you tried desperately to avoid his gaze, pretending like you hadn’t been watching him since he came in. 

He decided to sit next to you and you guys hit it off instantly, later finding that you had almost every class together. You felt so lucky, he was so, so kind. He spent your first two periods and lunch together. He introduced you to his friends, let you know the special ins and outs of the school, and even offered you a ride when he found out your aunt was leaving you hanging. He told you that you’d have to wait with him after school because apparently, he ran a club called “Hellfire”. 

Honestly, in the period after lunch, without him, you questioned if this was the kind of person you should align yourself with. In the next period, with him, when you walked in the door he waved you over and moved the backpack that was on the desk next to him. “Hey! I saved you a seat.” He had that shining, dimpled, smile again and you decided it didn’t matter what kind of person he was. He was kind to you and that’s what mattered. 

You learned a lot about him and you feel like that’s when you started falling in love with him. 

He told you about his struggles with his family, and why he lived with his uncle. He told you about his childhood and got a little teary-eyed, although he still kept his butterfly-inducing smile. 

He told you about his struggles with this town and warned you that you may be subject to ridicule by befriending him. That was the only time his smile fully dropped, he got this kicked puppy look in his eyes as he lied to you, telling you that ‘he’d understand.’ or that ‘you don’t need to feel bad’. You told him you’re not afraid of some small-town hicks. 

He apologized to you at the end of the class, saying it must’ve been awkward to listen to him blubber about his life all class but you, stars in your eyes and in love, adamantly assured him that you didn’t mind. 

You ended up loving his club, the planning, the theatrics, and the suspense, were unbelievable. You were engaged the whole time, obsessed with how Eddie told his story, and invested in the team and their survival. You told Eddie about how cool you thought it was the whole ride home. By the end of the ride, you were apologizing profusely for how much you had talked about it but he, red in the face and flustered, adamantly assured you that he didn’t mind. 

You guys have been almost inseparable since. It’s been about seven months here at Hawkins now and your little crush has snowballed into a bit of a colossal crush on Eddie. Nowadays, your Hellfire visits are filled with you just watching him. You don’t pay attention to the plot, to how the characters are doing, or anything… just him.

 It’s getting a bit embarrassing in fact, because you’ll have fewer things to say on the ride to your house than you usually do and he’s begun to question it, asking if you thought he needed to work on anything and not believing you when you say that ‘he doesn’t need to change anything’ or that ‘it was so perfect you have no notes.’

A secondary reason you’ve started staring at him more is because you’ve been working on something for him; a way for you to confess how you feel about him in a way that you hope he’d like. You’re completely unsure of how he may feel about you. You’ve noticed a few things… the way he’ll save a seat and always give it to you, no matter who arrived before you, how he seemed to be somewhat softer with you than he is with everyone else, but you chalked it up to hopeful thinking. 

You were trying to make a comic of the first time he invited you to Hellfire. You can remember it almost perfectly and for anything you don’t remember you can just refer to your journal. You’d written all about it after you got home. 

You’ve been spending most of your time in the art room now, trying your absolute best to make it the most professional-looking, homemade comic anyone had ever seen. You think about the smile that Eddie would wear, even if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, you at least hope he appreciates the art. 

You’ve gathered help from a lot of unsuspecting people. You found out that quite a few girls on the cheerleading team are a great help when it comes to designing the outfits. They’ve started to meet you in the art room at lunch to help with the comic, slightly invested in the plot even though you’ve explained multiple times that it’s technically Eddie’s plot. They’ve also become quite interested in your love life, knowing that it’s for Eddie. They actually root for the two of you, they were all much nicer than you expected them to be. 

You’ve started to miss a few club meetings as well. To be fair though, you aren’t technically part of the club. Eddie explained that since you don’t play you’re technically just a consistent bystander. It had hurt your feelings at first, feeling left out of the group but now it’s just convenient. You don’t have to tell Eddie in advance that you aren’t going and you don’t need to tell him why. You always go to the art room instead to work on your comic. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the cheerleaders join you after practice to help you work some more. You started to fall behind in school work, not paying attention to anyone or anything in class in favor of working on your comic instead. This little picture book has consumed your entire life for a few weeks. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was suffering the whole time.

He noticed it when it first started. At lunch one day, instead of eating and engaging in the conversation you kept opening your notebook and doodling little things he couldn’t see. He kept having to get your attention and re-explain everything that was happening whenever he tried to include you in the conversation. Eventually, you just told him, with a soft laugh, that you’re not listening. You giggled and went back to your doodling, not even realizing that what they had been talking about, was the idea of you joining Hellfire officially, even if you don’t play. Your disinterest almost broke Eddie’s heart, it hurt a lot actually but he reasoned with himself. 

Maybe she just doesn’t want all the heat, and bullying that comes with being a part of Hellfire. She’s soft, she just doesn’t want to say that right now, in front of the whole table. She’s so cute… She’ll tell me why, later.

You never did. You never explained to him why you cared so little about being in a club he cared so much about. 

You began to pull away more and more after that. He would plan campaigns with you in mind, creating twists and turns he knows you’d love, imagining the look on your face and the excitement in your voice when you’d tell him about it on the ride home. However, you started telling him you couldn’t make it to Hellfire. You never gave him an explanation and he never asked for one, you guys are just friends… he has no right. 

A little piece of his heart would chip away every time you canceled on him, breaking even more whenever he had to receive pitiful stares from everyone else when they noticed characters in the campaign that were so obviously you-coded. The confused looks from every member whenever they asked where you were, only to be met with a sad shrug, became a bit too much for him. He was still giving you a ride home, you’d arrive at the end of Hellfire with a shy smile on your face for it every day so you had to be staying somewhere at school. He was determined to find you. 

He ended Hellfire early one day and set on his quest to find you. He knows you love to read so the library was the first place he checked, only to find the doors locked. His next stop was the art room, stopping to peep inside the cafeteria on his way over and shaking his head sadly when you weren’t there. At this point, he’s sure that you’re in the art room, but what confuses him is that he can hear girly, popular, giggling coming from the very room that you must be in. He rushes over in a half-sprint, thinking that some girls were picking on you but when he gets to the door he can see you laughing along with them as you doodle on something. 

“I mean he’s… cute..” Chrissy Cunningham says to Eddie’s intense confusion. Who are they talking about..? What is she doing with Chrissy Cunningham? The other cheerleaders burst into a smaller fit of laughter at her words. 

“I think he’s cute!” You say and Eddie’s heart sinks at your words. Who? He waits there for a while but you guys never give specifics. He watches the cheerleaders giggle and tease you about your mystery crush. He only witnesses the way you fiddle with your pencil with the biggest smile he’s seen all day splitting your face. It hurts him to see you so happy over someone else, he watches you as a dark, numb, pain spreads inside his chest before walking away with tears in his eyes. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders hunched defeatedly as he heard you girls cheering behind him.

When you came for your ride he wasn’t in the Hellfire classroom waiting for you, instead, he was leaning on his van smoking. He never smoked around you, not cigs at least. You had explained your many bad memories with men who smoked and how it caused you to just despise the smell, that it even caused you a bit of anxiety before you even knew that he smoked. 

Out of kindness, Eddie just avoided smoking around you all together, but right now he was stressed, hurt, and on the verge of a breakdown and a cigarette was the only thing that could keep him from that. 

He didn’t care too much if you minded, you’d already decided you didn’t want to be around him anymore, choosing to hang out with the cheerleaders instead, letting them coax you over to the dark side from right under his nose. He should’ve held onto you tighter, he should’ve known they’d try and snatch you. You were so beautiful, and you’d be so popular under their watch but they’d also corrupt you, turn you into them, murdering the sweet, caring, and loving girl you were. The thought broke his heart, hence the cigarette in between his fingers when you approached him for your ride.

“Hey, Eddie! I was starting to think you left me!” You say with an adorable giggle that he wishes he could smile at. He blows smoke up into the air, avoiding your face, and puts it out. 

“Yeah. I was actually thinking the exact same thing.” He says with a humorless laugh that shocks you. You’re about to ask him if he’s okay when he gets in and starts the van. You rushed over to your side to get in before he drove off in silence. This is when you’d ask him about Hellfire and he’d give you the outline of what happened, but this time when you ask, he responds with “Same old, same old.”

You never thought you craved his voice as much as you do now. The drive is longer, some strange traffic blocking the way and the silence in the van gets to be too much for you. 

Forget about wrapping. 

“Eddie?” He hums at you, letting you know he heard you but doesn't turn to look at you. His eyes stay on the packed, unmoving road. “I- I made you something.”

His head turns to you so fast you can almost hear it crack. “You made me something?” The shock in his voice is surprising. It’s like he never, ever, had even considered that with all your artistic talent, you’d want to make him something. You have all of his attention now. 

“Yeah…” You reach into your bag and pull it out gently while Eddie gets off the road, pulling into a parking lot. “I- Well, I was going to wrap it but I’ll just give it to you now. I- I hope you like it…”

He’s smiling at you as you rummage through your backpack gently for whatever you have for him. He tried not to get too excited but he couldn’t help himself… 

“I’ll love it, sweetheart.” His heart is swelling at the idea of receiving a gift from you. That means at some point, somewhere you had seen something and thought of him, you thought of him so much that you just had to buy that item and you planned on gift wrapping it for him. 

Maybe it's a goodbye present. Fuck- be cool. 

Eddie tried to shove his thoughts to the back of his head, his heart was pounding as you pulled it out of your bag. It was a little book… A comic book? “Oh! What comic is this?”

He grabs it from your hand to read the cover and sees “The Brave, Bold, and Indomitable, Eddie the Banished VOL. 1” He reads it over again and again, believing that his eyes are playing tricks on him before slowly turning to look at you. You had a sweet, shy, and scared smile on your face as you awaited his reaction. “No fucking way.” His voice is a low, stunned, whisper as your smile spreads and he quickly flips through the little book. 

He opened the first page and felt like he couldn’t breathe, the art inside was breathtaking. “No fucking way.” He examined a character that was definitely him, running his fingers over the pages in awe. 

“Yeah, t-that’s you.” You scoot closer to him and lean over the center console to point him out on the page. “Here’s the rest of the party.” You point out more details to him, explaining why you picked some of the outfits you did, and why you chose certain trees and times of day but Eddie isn’t paying very much attention. He’s not even looking at the book anymore, he’s just watching you. You’re explaining every aspect of the page to him as he inspects every aspect of your face. Until you abruptly stop and he watches embarrassment creep into your features. His eyes flicker back to the page as you take your finger away from where you were pointing and he notices a little person in the corner of the page, almost hidden in the bushes as the party makes their way through a forest. 

“What-” He recognizes it on further analysis. “Is that you?” He asks with a chuckle of disbelief as he pulls the page closer to his eyes, admiring your little character. “Why are you in the bushes, sweetheart?” 

You’re stumbling over your words at the pet name. Eddie has used it twice in this car ride alone and you’re struggling not to lose your mind. “U- Um well… I’m- I’m just a bystander so… so I’m just by-standing.” You end the sentence with a sad giggle and your eyes shift to your fidgeting hands in your lap. Eddie’s smile falters at it and the memory of him inviting you to be more than. 

“Yeah. I mean- not for lack of trying y’know? I guess you’d rather be a cheerleader.” He tried to keep his tone light and jovial as he turned the page, now looking for you in every bush. He’s chuckling at your drawings as you’re overcome with confusion. “Eddie. What are you talking about?”

He doesn't look up from the book. “C’mon, love. We offered you a membership without gameplay and you just-” He takes a deep breath as he feels a small lump form at the base of his throat. “You couldn’t have been less interested.” He’s giving you that humorless laugh again as he flips the page. You’re searching your brain, racking your memories, trying to remember when this happened but coming up blank.

“Eddie, I don’t remember that happening.” He sighs, shuts the book, and shoves it under his thigh before starting the van back up, sad anger bubbling in his chest. 

“Listen, I get it. Y’know, you wanna be popular. I understand the pull, sweetheart. I don’t blame you at all.” You’ve never felt more confused as Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. Your silence makes him nervous, and nerves make his mouth run. 

“I mean… When you got here- poor unsuspecting, you- didn’t believe that the first friend you made was-” He lifts his hands from the wheel for a moment to make air quotes. “The town freak.” He gives you that laugh again.

“I’m honestly surprised that it took you so long to leave us losers for the popular crowd!” His voice is still upbeat, and light, as though he wasn’t breaking your heart and insulting you to your core at the same time. “OH! I- I guess you just needed a ride, right? It’s alright, sweetpea.” He’s so frustrating, that fake smile plastered on his face as he pulls up to your house. 

“Eddie.” Your voice is strained around the ball in your throat but still angry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t even like what you’re saying so either explain or just stop talking.” He parks the van on your curb and stares at you silently. You take this as the ‘stop talking’ option. “Okay. Thanks for the ride…” You hop out of his van sadly and turn around. “I- I hope you like your comic, Eddie…” With that, you slam the door closed and rush to your front porch. Eddie waits to watch you enter the house before pulling out of your driveway, trying not to let his guilt override his anger. 

On the whole drive home, Eddie is mulling over everything you said. Your seemingly genuine confusion over the invitation. He thinks over the original scene, you did say you weren’t listening. Eddie thought you meant it in the sense where you knew what the conversation was about but you wanted to stay out of it… but maybe you literally were not listening. Maybe you legitimately did not hear what they had said. 

Eddie pulls into his driveway and opens the comic book, deciding he needs to read it before heading in. He didn’t realize how long he’d end up spending in his van, reading your comic but when he finally looked up from the pages, getting butterflies from your art and how vividly you remember his campaign, the sky was dark. He chuckled to himself and headed inside to get ready for bed. 

Eddie flipped through the comic all night, noticing a pattern within your art. You were on every page that the Hellfire party was on, watching what he assumed was all of them. He was obsessed with your art, especially your character, and was psycho analyzing her when he noticed it. She was staring at his character. On every page the two of you were on, you were staring at him, your line of sight fixed on his character. 

He felt as though he was losing his mind as he frantically flipped through every page. His heart raced as he watched your character watch him. He loved it, whether you did it on purpose or not, it was doing something to him. Heat rushed to his face as he put the book away and calmed himself down. He didn’t want to read too much into it but he couldn’t help the way his heart raced when he approached you about it the next day. 

He wanted to work up to the subject, he wanted to pretend that it hadn’t consumed his every thought since he noticed but instead, he just blurted it out to you the moment he sat down.

“Why are you watching me?” His face goes red after the words shoot out, wishing he had taken more time to craft what he wanted to ask. He watches humored puzzlement bloom over your face as you giggle softly, giving him butterflies in his tummy.

 “Eddie, you just got here. I was gonna say hi…” Your voice is timid, still careful after the little argument yesterday and fear begins to curl in Eddie’s stomach. He forgot he had been an asshole to you yesterday. 

Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe she was just drawing her “good side”. Why would she be staring at you, Munson? Get a grip, Jesus.  

He tries to play it off. “I- I’m just sayin’ you could’ve waved or something.” He tries to sound upbeat, and cheerful, but he can’t get it to sound genuine. All night he’s been fantasizing about what it would be like if you actually liked him back. How he would give you hugs and kisses no matter where you were. He thought about how in love with you he’d be, it’d be pretty annoying to everyone else but he wouldn’t even care. 

He knows you’d love it too, he’d give you everything he has, everything he had and ever will have. 

He shouldn't have gotten so far ahead of himself. 

He thought about how he would follow you to whatever college you wanted to go to- if you wanted to go. He would get a job nearby and you guys could rent an apartment together. He’d wait until you’ve graduated to ask you to marry him. He’d take you to your favorite spot, with all your favorite things, and propose to you in whatever way you’d want him to. He’d spare no expense on the ring- if that’s something you’d care about. 

He’d start a mechanic shop with Wayne and they’d be so rich that you wouldn't even need to work if you didn’t want to. He thought about your kids, he’d hope that they look like you, they’d get far in the world being as beautiful as you are. He wants them to be like you too, good, sweet, and caring. He spent the night going over your whole lives together, his cheeks sore from how long he’d been smiling. But you don’t like him like that. 

Eddie distantly hears the bell ring, not realizing he’d spent the whole class moping over the fact that you don’t like him. He looks around to see you’ve already left him. You usually wait with him, you like to chat on the way to the next class. Your absence has never felt so painful for him. 

Once he’s gathered his things he heads to the next class where he sees your seat surrounded by cheerleaders, a small smile on your face as they seem to dote on you. He decides he doesn’t need to sit with you today, you have enough people to keep you company. He actively avoids looking at you for the duration of the class, rushing out once the bell rings. 

He rushes to the bathroom, bumping into people and getting insults hurled his way in the process. He gets to his stall, with all his graffiti, and slumps against the wall to the floor. His mind is racing, his chest heaving as he tries to cope with losing you. She’s with them now I guess? But- 

His memories flash back to all the times you guys hung out, just the two of you. He felt as though you were just a better, female version of him. You were an outcast but in the best- or worst- way possible. You were like a gem he had found in this pile of shit town, everyone else had overlooked you, not wanting to wash the shit off to see you shine, but he had. He didn’t care about the shit, he wanted to be there for you in the way no one was there for him when he arrived. 

He thinks he fell in love with you the moment he found out you were also repeating your senior year, not for the third time like him but still. He thought it was cute how embarrassed you were about the fact that you were repeating, he loved the way he was able to help you be more comfortable and help you understand that it’s not your fault.

 He felt like- He thought that he was something special to you, he hoped he was something special to you. He treats you like you’re something special to him because you are- or at least he thought he treated you like that. 

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he should’ve invited you to play in Hellfire more often, invited you over more, given you more of his lunch when your aunt forgot to give you money, and given you a better discount on his weed. Maybe he should’ve just been less of a freak. 

Tears are gathering in his eyes as he angrily rubs at them, feeling pathetic. Crying over a girl in a bathroom stall. I really am a fucking loser. 

He takes a few deep breaths before getting off the ground, leaving the bathroom, and heading to the cafeteria. He expects to see you at his table, and the butterflies in his stomach come back to life when he imagines the tone you’ll give him when you ask where he’s been like you always do when he’s late. He grabs lunch and sits down… you’re nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s your better half?” Gareth asks, gaining a laugh from the table. It just hurts Eddie more. He stays silent, pulling out his Walkman and letting music drown out every voice or thought in his head until he sees people getting up to leave. 

“Hey, Ed.” Gareth is the only one who waited for him.

“I’m sorry if I was an ass earlier. I know you like her, I just- I thought you actually did know where she was.” Eddie feels his throat close up and almost rolls his eyes at himself. 

“It’s fine, Gareth. She’s probably off with Chrissy Cunningham.” He says with a gruff, tense voice, ignoring the shock that plasters on Gareth’s face.

“Cunningham? What- How does she even know her?” Eddie shrugs and starts walking to his next class, Gareth following close behind. “She’s like what? Friends with them now? She’s gonna be a cheerleader or something?” Eddie feels his emotions building inside him, like an overfilled balloon and he’s about to pop. 

He stops walking and turns to him. “I don't fucking know, Gareth.” Gareth’s gaze shifts from Eddie immediately. “I don’t know why she’s hanging out with them now. I don’t know why she doesn’t come to Hellfire or why she doesn’t talk to me on the ride to her house anymore. I don’t know!” Eddie is met with silence at the end of his rant. “Oh! I know.” His voice has dropped to a low, condescending, whisper. 

“Maybe she got tired of being one of the freaks, hmm?” He rushes off to his next class and for the first time, he’s grateful that you’re not in it. 

You’re in class and your thoughts could not be further from the material. You’re thinking about Eddie of course. The way he acted in the van yesterday, the way he acted in first period, and even second period. You noticed he came into lunch late and didn’t even speak to anyone when he did come in. He didn’t look at you, talk to you, or anything. It hurt. 

You’re anxious, leg bouncing and chewing on your pen as you watch the clock. You need to see him, ask him what’s wrong. 

Maybe he figured it out. Fear shoots through you. Maybe he figured out that I like him from the comic. I didn’t get to explain much but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Is this his reaction to my liking him? No. It can’t be. Even if he didn’t like me back… I don’t think he’d treat me like this. I think he would let me down gently.  

It’s a nice thought but it just leaves you back where you started. What is wrong with Eddie?

You’re ready to ask him. You got there first and pulled his desk a little closer to yours, hoping to have a full, meaningful conversation with him. He never shows. 

This isn’t alarming to anyone but you, everyone scoffs when the teacher reads out Eddie’s name the second time. There are murmurs of “took him long enough” and “I’m so shocked” hurting you with their lack of care. You wait for attendance to finish before asking to go to the bathroom. You take your bag with you and no one questions it, knowing you as the ‘good girl’, not realizing you’re about to skip class for the first time. 

You roam the school looking for Eddie. You check Hellfire’s room, the band room, even the art room but you can’t find him. You check places he wouldn’t be, the library, the computer lab, and even the abandoned school basement. Your heart is racing as you rush out to the parking lot, hoping at least his van is still here and that’s where you find him. Coughing on what you assume is cigarette smoke by his van.

“Eddie!” You shout his name without thinking and his head whips in your direction, shocked. A smile spreads on his face as you stomp toward him. Despite all the unknowing pain you’ve put him through today, the butterflies in his stomach are still alive for you. 

“Eddie, what the fuck?” His smile falters but quickly returns as he goes to hand you the joint he’s smoking. 

“You’re skipping!? You look like you need this more than I do.” You take the joint and inhale the most smoke you can without burning your lungs, Eddie looks impressed. 

“I do need this more than you.” You speak as you exhale. Eddie is staring at the joint, waiting for you to pass it back but instead, you take another hit. “I need this more than you do because I’m not the one who is stressing you beyond oblivion! What is going on with you?” Eddie’s eyes are on the ground as he kicks the little rocks there. 

“Eddie. You know you can talk to me, right? If anything is going on with Wayne or- or maybe something else? I don’t know I- I just- I can’t figure out why you’re acting so… different.”

He laughs. He fully laughs at you. His hand on his chest, leaning back and roaring his laughter into the air. “I’m acting different?” He snatches the joint from your hand. “I’m the one acting different, sweetheart? Miss ‘So sorry I can’t come to Hellfire today! No! I’m not going to explain!’, you’re telling me that I’m acting different?” He takes a drag 

“You don’t care about my campaigns anymore, you never have time to come over, you never have time for me to come over, and now you- you don’t sit with me at- at lunch anymore?” His voice breaks at the end and he turns away to take a hit before you can see the tears in his eyes. “Don’t tell me that I’m stressing you out.” He scoffs and holds his hand out, passing you the joint. 

It strikes something in you; Eddie still passing the joint back to you even though he’s upset. You take it from him with a small ‘thank you’ and take a hit before responding. “I was- It was the comic Eddie… I was working on the comic. It was harder than it looked I guess. I- I couldn’t get your hair right and-”

Eddie hasn’t reacted, he feels like he’s in shock, like his heart has stopped, he’s having a stroke, something. Your voice sounds far away as he’s buried in his thoughts. 

I’m a dickhead. I’m an asshole. She was doing it for me and I’m- I was yelling at her for it. I’m a fucking asshole. She’s still talking to me so softly too. Fuck. Why isn’t she upset with me? Why isn't she yelling at me? Why aren’t I apologizing? 

“I’m sorry!” His voice is the epitome of pitiful, he didn’t notice the knot that had made home in his throat or the tears that had been sitting on the ducts. Your eyes are wide and you almost drop the joint to hug him, knowing he gets emotional when he’s high. 

“Why are you sorry? You don’t need to be sorry- what’s wrong?” His arms wrap around you, crushing you to his chest as he huffs out breaths into your hair. He’s trying to calm down, trying to not completely break down in front of you but he’s failing so far. 

Fuck- fuck. Stop crying- what the fuck happened to you? Stop blubbering like a bitch- She’s she’s so soft- oh fuck she’s so warm. She’s so fucking sweet. I fucking love her. She’s- She’s so stupid.

“I do ne- need to be sorry what are you talking about?” He pulls away, leaving one hand on your shoulder as he runs his knuckles and the back of his arm along the bottom of his nose. “I was being an asshole- an asshole. When you were just tryna do something nice.” He’s breathing out shuddering breaths as he speaks. 

She’s too sweet to me. She still has her arms around me- such a fucking sweetheart. I love her- I want her, I wanna tell her. 

You don’t know what the fuck is going on. Eddie is a blubbery mess in front of you, holding you close as he tries to calm himself down. He’s gripping your shoulder so hard you feel like he may puncture your skin but you never want him to move it. 

You should be focusing on the fact that he’s crying because he thinks he was mean to you but all you can think about is one thing.

His lips are wet and pink from his tears and his teeth.

You try to ignore it; the urge to kiss him. You try to think about how to comfort him but your arms are still around his waist, it would be so easy to just pull him in…

“Eddie. I don’t mind, I should’ve told you.” You separate from him and he gasps softly. 

“I was actually spending so much time on it for a more selfish reason.” Your heart is racing but not as much as it was the last time you planned to confess. 

How nice he is to you has to mean something, he gives you a ride home every day. That has to mean something. He gives you discounts on weed when you know he makes Gareth pay extra. How upset he is over possibly being mean to you. That has to mean something. The way he’s looking at you right now… That has to mean something. 

“Eddie, I like you.” You shove the words out of your throat, leaving you breathless after they come out. “I- shit.” You looked at him. His face is blank. “I really like you, so much that if you don’t like me back I- I don’t care- We- we can just be friends. We can- I can pretend that this never happened… It’s okay.” You’re a little frantic as you get the words out, nervous at Eddie’s silence. 

You risk a glance at his face and there are tears in his eyes again. “Can I kiss-” He inhales a gasp. “Can I kiss you?” His face is full of wonder like he’s genuinely in disbelief at what’s happening. 

You want to cry. “Yes. Please.” You try not to sound too eager but you’re already taking a step toward him and your hands are reaching for him. 

He’s all over you in an instant, whimpering into your mouth the moment your lips meet. His hands are covering both sides of your face, pulling you into him desperately. He’s twisted you up against his van, his hands moved to your waist to bring you impossibly closer. You pull away with a smile to breathe but Eddie whimpers and leans back into your lips. 

You can’t help the giggle that comes out, breaking the kiss and causing Eddie to whine again. “I thought you wanted to kiss me? Kiss me.” 

“Wait- I’m a-” Eddie pulls back to let you speak, although you can see he wishes he didn’t have to. “Eddie… You like me?” His eyes widen and his face turns red at the question. 

“How is that even a question you’re asking me right now? I- of course, I like you. I can’t believe that you like me.” His voice is gentle as he speaks, tense like he’s waiting for you to change your mind about him. You shake your head with a smile and pull him back in, humming happily as his lips eagerly press into yours. 

You guys left school then, Eddie drives you both to his place and you guys finish the joint on the way. His hand was on your thigh the whole time with that shining, dimpled smile, beaming at the road the entire ride. It was the best ride of your life, it had you thinking about your life with him. 

How much you’d love him. How you’d give him hugs and kisses no matter where you guys were. You thought about how in love you are, it’d be pretty annoying to everyone else but you wouldn’t even care. You know he’d love it too, you’d give you everything you have, had, and ever will have. 

Thank you so much for reading! and thank you even more for requesting!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[sinon36]

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part VI

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Warnings: torture, violence, gore, mistakes.

- the sixth time you meet it’s after a lot of frenzied searches

- the missions have been slow a while now; you mostly act as a handler for TF141, alongside Laswell; the boys got used to your calm voice in their earpieces, guiding and directing them through buildings and underground bases; your “hacking” skills come in handy when Laswell gets caught up with something else

- they always come home in time for you to get supper together; it’s a nice way of living; so different from the loneliness you felt before; now you have a small family to call your own; the banter between you and the sergeants feels the air; you throw jokes to one another; Price quietly chuckles at his younger subalterns; Ghost on the other hand stays silent most of the time;

- you always sit next to him, in the mess hall, in briefing rooms, in helis, or cars; it’s something he’s not sure yet how to interpret; yes, the two of you got along just fine; you have the same dark humour that makes the other soldiers in the base shiver when they hear you laugh at your jokes; you can sit in comfortable silence for hours; you don’t pry into each other’s lives, which he’s thankful; you hadn’t even asked him his name, and you already know one another for more than two years; he won’t admit but he doesn’t like the way his heart feels when you laugh at one of Soap’s jokes, or discuss with Gaz one of the new books you’ve bought, or even when Price comes close to you, peaking over your shoulder and talking quietly with you about the files you’ve got in front of you;

- Ghost does not allow the thought, that he might be jealous on his comrades’ interactions with you, take roots inside his mind; he can’t; you’re just doing your job and you just happen to enjoy the 141’s company, in the most platonic way; he knows that your bond is far superior to that of the other’s; you saved his life, saw his face, and he in turned saved yours; that must add up to something;

- yet he feels that something’s wrong with him; Price pointed out that ever since you joined TF141 he seems quieter, and less present; he’s becoming more and more his namesake; he denies that, and argues that he’s just tired, now that he’s getting older; Price calls out his shite; the captain is older than him, and he’s far more active than him;

- but the captain can’t do more than that, a friendly conversation; yours and Ghost’s relationship is extremely professional; he rarely sees the two of you interact in the common room, or anywhere else for that matter, that’s not the battle field or the briefing room; you also work incredibly well; you two and Soap had made quite the trio when it comes to field work; he affectionately calls you the Unholy Trinity of Task Force 141; trails of body are left in your wake and almost all missions go well without the tinniest hitch; the men joke around that surely you are some kind of witch that made a deal with the devil to have success; you laugh and chalk it all up to skill, hard work, and a shite ton of sheer luck;

- though you keep reminding them that your luck will run out one day, they ignore you, joking that you’ll have to tolerate them until you retire; you’re not as optimistic; you’re the realist of the whole team; you know the risks are ten times bigger than theirs

- most of the times you go in alone, unarmed, no back up, no communication; you only have yourself to rely on; and you know that when the fatigue catches up with you, you’ll slip up, make a mistake, that’ll get you killed or worse

- and then the worst you feared happens; you go MIA during a simple infiltration; the boys find no trace to indicate where you’d been taken to or by whom; Laswell can’t find any sign of you, no matter how hard she tries, or how far she’s stretching her informant network; nothing; denial turns to angry searches, busting down doors and torturing anyone they come across; that turns to desperation, they start looking into the most unrelated events they find, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they get a glimpse of your name, or an alias, or something, no matter how small; and that turns to silence, they stop bringing you up, start avoiding your name or anything that might point out you’re not there; after Laswell mentions you in one of their briefings, that the time to change your status to KIA is due, Ghost smashes the chair you used to sit in

- it’s one of the most violent reactions he’s had outside the battlefield since you’d disappeared, and Price starts to worry that his lieutenant will do something stupid if they don’t find out what happened to you; he threatens Laswell to not touch that file of yours; ‘Not yet, Kate. Not yet.’ He says in a sadder and calmer voice    

- acceptance never came; the thought that maybe you’re not even alive, buried somewhere unmarked, or body burned beyond recognition is a thought they’d long banished; wherever they went they kept their eyes peeled for you; their hope of finding you never wavers

- and then their prayers are answered; they get something; it’s not much; a 3-second clip; it’s blurred, to few pixels to really make out any details; and the camera seems to be moved violently, barely catching the hunched posture of a person tied to a chair; Laswell got it form one of her contacts; it’s from a half destroyed hard drive they recovered from heli the dropped out of the sky

- it’s not much; actually, is far too little to go on with; the video doesn’t show a face, nor reveals any names; the background so dark they can’t make out anything; But they agree it’s you; from the size of your body, to your complexion to the colour of your hair, now longer and falling over your face; it’s been months since they last saw you but they know it’s you   

- ‘Proof of life’ Price concludes; ‘But fur who?’ Soap voices the question they all thought of that; ‘It don’t matter’ Ghost points out, voice gruffer than ever; ‘Where is more important.’ Gaz specifies

- they get to work; they comb the crash site, having received the location from Laswell; at first they don’t find anything; but Ghost’s keen eyes find it; it’s a small piece of silvery metal, wedged in the dirt; it’s only half, but he can make out the letters clearly; cyrillic letter; he grunts; ‘Price…’ he shouts to get everyone’s attention; when they come closer he shows it to them; ‘Russians’ they conclude

- the hunt begins; Nik is there to smuggle the Brits over the Russian borders and to provide them with an extraction vehicle, in his case an old rusty Russian helicopter, that can barely fly under the radar, it flinches and grunts at every gust of wind, but it’s as covert as can be; they don’t bear any insignia visible on their black camo uniforms; their faces tucked under black balaclavas; even their guns are Russian, some AK-47 Nik provided them with no striations on the barrels; they even agreed to keep their mouths shut, letting the captain converse with anyone that they might encounter; no one can no that a team of Brits put their feet on Russian soil

- they carefully went over all the details just like you got them used to when you did infiltrations; they are as prepared as ever; the plan is simple; take out the guards that make their rounds through the facility and take their place; that will give them sufficient time to look for you and find a way out to get you out; “if” they find you; the information came through Laswell and it was already a couple weeks old; chances are you’ve been moved;

- they search everywhere; you’re not there; time for plan B: infiltrate their data base; Price gets his hand on a computer and plugs the USB containing the backdoor virus; it takes some time to install, then to reboot the whole system; Laswell gives the green light that they’re in; they get out of there leaving no trace that they ever were inside

- the next two weeks are gruesome; Ghost spends most of his time destroying the punching bags in the gym; he barely eats and barely sleeps; he starts hearing your voice in the night when he climbs the ladder to the roof, perched up like an owl, having a smoke away from everyone; he hears a soft whisper, or a small chuckle; he’s going crazy, he thinks; crazy with worry for you;

- it’s been years since Simon felt worry for someone; when his family was killed, he vowed to never get close to another soul again; but then you had to save him; you didn’t even know him; risked your life for a stranger that cannot repay you for that act of kindness

- but he can; he can make sure you’re safe on missions; that’s why he’d always stalk your figure through the scope; that’s why he’d have you with him and Soap every time you’d split up; so he can keep his eyes on that pretty face of yours; that’s why he’d threaten the other marines on base with the court martial when he’d hear lewd comments about you being their whore and so much worse; he’d be wringing their necks if Price didn’t keep such a close eyes on his actions  

- he misses you, and your presence, and your sweet perfume, and your voice, and your eyes that would look straight into his when he told you a joke, smirk matching his own; he missed the way you’d drink your tea together in the morning, in silence broken only by soft sighs and the sound of the sofa under your weights; if he got up before you he’d make sure to boil enough water for two mugs and he’d put the tea in the moment he could hear your footsteps heading to the common room; he was so accustomed to you that he could make out your footsteps even in the busiest corridors; lighter than most, almost quiet but quick, lively; he misses that too

- the way you’d make your away towards him and with a nod take the seat next to his, softly brushing his shoulder with yours in an unspoken acknowledgement… I’m here, next to you… your simple touch made his skin boil underneath his clothes and yearn for more; he’d take advantage of situations out in the field; he’d grab you and help you climb over obstacles, he’d give you a head anytime he felt you needed it; and you’d never refuse his help;

- he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t find you; just like you found him when you first met

- two weeks pass by slower when you’re almost always awake, Simon knew that already; but he’s the first to get on the tarmac when Price gives the order for heading out; Laswell managed to pinpoint your location; one of the Russian commanders moved you to an off the record, but not really cause ‘Russians are shit at keeping a low profile.’ Laswell adds, compound where they’d keep foreign prisoners for interrogations; the American woman sends them out to get you out and wipe any witness that has seen your face

- exactly what Simon wanted; the green light to do what he’s best at: mauling his enemies;

- the compound they keep you in is underground, ventilation system outdated, like pretty much any piece of technology they keep; they record the interrogation on an old Sony camera; you doubt it can register your mumbled responses, not that you’d say anything useful; you’d match every question with a curse in a clear American accent; you don’t want to give them anything that might be traced back to your British boys;

- they can’t get anything out of you; not your name, not whom do you work for, or where you’re from, what you were looking for when you infiltrated their operation, etc.; they were met with an unsurmountable resistance; no matter how many times they’d beat you, drown you, burn you, cut you, electrocute you, or humiliate you; they took away most of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear and what little remained from your tank top, enough to cover only your upper torso; you were cold, hungry and in pain; you had been in this condition for months; but you wouldn’t give up

- in the academy they taught you that the longer you lasted the more chances of being found; that thought has crossed your mind more than once; but you don’t allow yourself to hope; that would only weigh you down the more time passes; no, you look for ways to free yourself and learn the personnel’s schedule; and you wait for the best opportunity

- that window of opportunity is near; for a week now you worked on pulling out the nail in the chair that holds the chair’s handle together; you managed to pull out the nail and twist your wrist to try and scratch at the rope; the motion is uncomfortable and painful, the skin of your wrist is cut open by the rope that soaks up your blood; you’ve been at it for hours, trying to cut yourself loose; and you finally manage; surprise overtakes you as the rope unravels and your hand is free; the limb aches with exertion as you shake it to get the flow of circulation to get back to normal

- then you lean forward and grab at the knife left there from the previous session, still wet with your blood; freeing yourself is more strenuous than you would have imagined; as you bend down to free your ankles you almost pass out from the sudden rush of blood to your head; you lost of it, enough to hinder you in your escape; but you push through

- when you stand up you grab the chair for support and move in slow motion afraid you’ll pass out; you have a plan in mind already; get dresses in the coat left on the hanger by the door, and lay in wait for the interrogator to come back for another round; now that your body is filled with adrenaline times moves slower, but it doesn’t take long for the door handle to start to move; you wait for the tall and skinny man to enter; if he were a little leaner you wouldn’t have had a chance; but this failed physician that took to torture won’t even know what hit him; you stab him in the neck with a somewhat quick strike;

- he dies drowning in his own blood; you manage to drag his corpse under the table, leaving the pool of blood untouched; maybe they’ll think that you finally bled out and someone took your corpse to the morgue to be burned; you don’t care as you grab the handgun off his waist; the same one he’d threaten you with when you wouldn’t answer;

- judging by the thick clothes your assailant wears you know outside is cold; so you do what they told you at the academy; you undress the corpse an take his pants an shoes; they’re huge on you but you can’t complain; you shiver at the warmth still trapped in the wool fibres;

- you make your way outside checking for any guards; you found none, as expected; you heard the Russian complain that is too cold and stuffy down here that nobody but him frequents the lower levels; some people don’t know to shut up and you are glad to exploit that; with his gun, knife and car keys in hand you make your way through the dark corridors; you follow the boot prints left on the filthy floors;

- the only guards you encounter are the ones stationed by the door that leads to the stairs; you make quick work of them; one shot for each of their heads; you almost fall down on your ass as the gun kicks back in recoil; you take a moment to lean on the wall taking a few calming breaths

- your ascend is slow, laboured breaths escaping your gaping mouth; you strain your eyes and try to decipher the word on the walls marking the level and the facility; you’re looking for the parking lot; you find it after climbing to the second to last level; Russians really don’t know how to keep a facility secure; as you climb the emergency stairs there is no one to stop you; they underestimated your ability to escape this hell hole; their mistake

- as you reach the parking lot you look for the physician’s car; it’s a rusty red Lada; it’ll do just fine; as you get in the passenger side you start hearing gunshots; it’s faint; maybe you imagined it; but no, it’s there; you don’t wait to find out what’s happening, as you turn the key in the ignition you pull out of the spot and quickly drive towards the exit; whatever firefight broke out in there, pulled away every guard from their stationary position; for a moment you think about TF 141, but you quickly dismiss it

- you make your way out, a little dizzy from the spiral ascension; once out of there you notice that there’s forest around, and some snow; you hit gravel and as you look back you notice the exit; the only indication that there is something men made here; you doubt that tunnel can be spotted from a drone; the trees block the line of sight; that confirms your suspicions

- the gun fire must be coming from another escapee, not as lucky as you; you drive down the dirt road following every twist and turn hoping you won’t see any other cars; you check the glove compartment; now that the adrenaline rush is over your body aches like never before; you search for some pain meds but you only find a wallet with some cash in it; Russian rubbles, enough to keep the car going for a while; maybe you’ll find a gas station; it’s risky but you are I dire need of food and water; that might give you enough strength to push forward

- the 141 moves quickly taking care of the two sentinels at the mouth of the tunnel; two well placed shots and they’re down; Gaz and Soap move the bodies in a bush and hide their car in the tree line; hopefully nobody will come looking for this two in the next crucial minutes; they comb through the facility dropping anyone they encounter; their pistols bear silencers masking the loud sounds; they move deeper and deeper, but soon the alarm is sounded and a full fight ensues; the guards are no match for the 141; they drop like flies; but the fight costs them precious minutes;

- Ghost breaks away from the rest of his teammates; he knows they got it; he needs to hurry to find you; he needs to make sure you are still breathing, and that your pretty eyes still hold fire in them; he gets to lowest level where the holding cells are; he checks behind every grate and every door until a he gets to what seems to be the place they torture the prisoners

- he notices how filthy and cold it is; but what makes his blood freeze is the chair and the large pool of fresh blood; no…, he’s too late; he came to late; a wave of blinding fury surges and like a tsunami Ghost thrashes the room; he stops only when he discovers the body of a tall Russian man behind the desk; his throat slit; pants and boots missing; atta girl he can’t help the smirk taking over his face under the balaclava; you were capable, he knew that, but you still manage to surprise him; he gets out trying to radio in the discovery to the rest of his teammates

- the radio crackles with static, concrete walls too thick for the signal to penetrate; he’s made his decision; he’s going after you even though he knows Price will kick his ass later; you need him; probably not as much as he needs you; he chases the droplets of blood you left on the ground as you walked towards the emergency staircase; at the door, two more casualties; no, you didn’t need him; you had it handled

- in the parking lot he finds a military truck with the key in the ignition; he follows you as quickly as the car gets on the dirt road

- you drive for what feels like hours; your mind is struggling, eyes out of focus and body feeling heavier with every minute; you don’t know why or when the car starts to shake and tilt, you feel yourself flying out of the seat; everything goes black

- Ghost’s eyes scan the road in front of him through the thick snowfall; he almost misses the red car that swerved of the road and now rests on the side in a ditch, snow piles on top almost making it disappear; he gets out of the truck and approaches the car pistol pointed at it; he wipes away the snow that covers the window on the driver’s side; inside he can make out a body that’s laying on its side face obscured by the thick collar of the jacket; he pulls the door open carefully and nudges the body to see if they’re conscious or not; when there’s no movement he peels the collar from their face

- Simon thinks he is no longer able to panic; he survived through his father’s and brother’s abuse; then he joined the military where they taught him to surpass any fears and to control himself; then the Mexican cartel who buried him alive; that experience showed him what terror looks like; only to return home and find all the people that he held dear massacred; Ghost is the result of so many horrifying events; he is the cautionary tale of what prolonged survival in a malignant environment looks like

- the level of fear matches that of when he found the body of Beth hugging Josep’s smaller one; he acts without thinking, grabbing your limp and cold body and pulling you out of the wreckage; your head is bleeding from where you hit it on the window; lips are blue and your skin cold to the touch; he checks for a pulse; he can’t tell if he feels yours or his own; his hands are trembling with rage and powerlessness; he grabs for the radio’ telling Price he’d found you but you need medical assistance immediately; there’s no answer on the other side; just static

- he hoists you up and takes you to the stolen truck placing you in the front seat; he climbs in the driver’s seat letting you down slowly over the seat head resting on his lap; he puts the heat on high trying to make you warm again; he checks for your breathing and he’s thrilled to find that small puffs of air come from your open mouth

- he starts driving, he doesn’t know where; he neds a safe house to treat your wounds and to keep you safe; the snow is falling heavy, making impossible to see where he’s driving; then he sees it; to the side he can make out a building in the tree line

- the abandoned cottage is nothing more than a ruin; but it has four walls and a roof and he’s glad to see a small fireplace, dry wood abandoned next to it; he puts you down on what he can only assume is what remained of a thick rug long forgotten by its previous owners; he works quickly and efficiently, in mere minutes a fire burns casting a warm glow in the barren room

- he moves to work on you; he peels the jacket off only to find that you are nearly naked under the stolen clothes; he gets angrier at the Russians wishing he could bring them back only to subject them to the same kind of torture they did you and some more; he quickly checks for deeper cuts or signs of infection; but he can’t find none; they must’ve given you antibiotics to keep you alive as much as possible;

- he cleans the cuts with the antiseptic wet wipes his med kit contains; then he dresses the wounds with gauze; your thin body looks like a mummy from the amount gauze; he addresses your head next wiping the blood of and bandaging your forehead; he sighs in relief when your lips and skin slowly turn pink from the warmth; you lay in between his legs as he sits on the floor, your head laying on his thigh

- he tries contacting 141 again, but to no avail; looks like he’ll have to hold out here tonight; he’ll stay awake to protect you until you wake up

- it’s morning when you stir, he watches your face intently from above you; your eyelids groggily open eyes trying to focus; as you lay eyes on brown ones, hidden behind a black balaclava you start to panic; you weakly push at his hands and chest, mumbling and trying to get away from him; he doesn’t relent though; his grip is firm on you and in a commanding voice he orders you to sit still; hearing your name does the trick; you didn’t tell those fuckers your name; and his embrace is not restraining more like protecting; you think hard and try to remember eyes flickering over the balaclava; ‘Ghost…’ you croak when your vocal chords decide to vibrate; ‘Gho…’ you repeat even more brokenly; he shushes you and reassures you that yes, he’s here and no, he won’t go anywhere; not without you; that puts your mind at ease and you close your eyes again

-when you wake up again is noon; he feeds you some water through cracked and dry lips and he gives you a dose of morphine to help with the pain; that sends you back to sleep

- the third time you wake, you are being carried by strong arms; the sound of blades cutting air becomes louder and louder; Ghost walks backwards shielding you from the snow that’s being picked up by the gusts of wind;

- he climbs the heli; Nik greets Ghost, as Soap and Gaz pull him and you inside; the ride is silent, no one says anything; the Russian pilot takes you to a better equipped safehouse

- you wake up to someone entering the room; you’re in a warm comfortable bed, IV connected to your wrist fluid being pumped in your veins; you open your eyes to a dark-haired man bringing in a tray of food; you panic again when you hear him greet you, voice laced with a deep Russian accent; he sees the look on your face and he slowly puts the tray on the table; ‘Don’t vorry, I’m Nick. A friend ov 141. I von’t hurt yu, agent’; he tells you it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, and that you are prettier than Gaz told him; you watch him in silence, regarding him with apprehension; when he stops talking, you look to the door and ask for Ghost

- he chuckles knowingly and then informs you that “your boy” is being ripped a new one by the captain just outside, and he leaves you to tell Price that your awake; you don’t have time to correct him cause he already out the door; Price walks in soon after, you’re glad to see him; ‘Ah, there you are’ he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; he asks you how you’re feeling; numb thanks to the morphine; he wants to know what happened

- it was a trap; they were waiting for you, Russians; they wanted to know who you were and who did you work for; you told them nothing; he knows; he asks you about your time in the facility; you don’t quite remember much, just the torture and the questions; he tells you that you did good, and that you need to rest now;

- Gaz and Soap stop by to talk to you a bit; you tell them you’ll be fine; and then you ask for Ghost; they rub their necks a little ashamed; you asked them what happened; Ghost got scolded for going AWOL in search for you; Price even threatened him with the court martial; you huff; and swing the blanket off; you sit at the ledge of the bed; you’re glad to find you’ve been clothed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeve shirt; you grab the IV needle and pull hard on it; then you stand grabbing the table for support

- the two sergeants move forward to catch you if you fall; you wave them away and move towards the door; you search the living room for any signs of Ghost; instead, Price and Nik talk about something at the dinner table; when Price sees you up and about, despite him telling you to rest, he mutters a ‘Bloody stubborn they are’ and points toward the kitchen; you thank him; you can hear Nik commenting something about you and Ghost deserving each other; but you keep walking, slowly, one hand on the wall for balance

- Ghost stands by the window, his back turned to you; he ignores your poor attempt at greeting him; without thinking you cross the distance and hug his waist burying your nose in his hoodie; he tenses

- ‘I’m probably high right now,’ you nuzzle your face in his back inhaling his scent: soap, cigarettes and something you can’t quite tell; ‘thank you, for coming after me’; you let go of him turning to go back to rest; he grabs your upper arm and gently turns you; he watches you closely, you can feel his breath on your face, and smell the cigarette on his lips; his balaclava is pushed up his nose; he stares into your eyes as he speaks ‘Tell me to stop’ his eyes shift to your lips

- ‘Please don’t’; he kisses you, deeply and for a long time; you pull away for air ‘Ghost, I…’ ‘No,’ he cuts you off; ‘Simon, my name is Simon’ you smile lost in his pretty brown eyes; ‘Simon Riley’ and he surprises you taking his balaclava off; you stare at him, trying to memorize every scar and blemish; he’s handsome, in a rugged way; blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eye; you kiss him again.                                                

Previous part here.

[heliads]

Hello may i request a Thomas ( oh original ! ) the maze runner imagine ? when the reader had a childish spirit in the glade, always smiling, bubbly, friendly toward everyone. But in the scorch, she is a different person, she is more violent with words less affectionate and she is pessimistic. Thomas discover her change of personality and decide to confront her about it. Thomas and the reader are together. (Angst and fluff maybe)

Ps : HAPPY HOLIDAYS 🎄🎁🫶

happy belated holidays!! the true gift is thomas

masterlist

Thomas has seen a lot in the meager few months he remembers being alive. There’s the Maze, of course, the terrifying behemoth of stone and ivy enclosing life as he knew it inside massive walls. There were the Grievers, sickening creatures. Thomas can still hear the screams of his friends being torn to pieces by those beasts. There were also the graves of past Gladers who lived and died without ever escaping. He saw enough loss to know the costs of surviving.

One of the worst sights Thomas has ever experienced, however, might have to do with what living did to his friends. They’re all shell-shocked in some way; Minho laughs less, Newt’s eyes grow weary, Teresa becomes more restless by the hour, but the worst of all is Y/N. Y/N, who brightened all their days back in the Glade with her relentless optimism, who has now become some cold version of the girl they all care for. That might be the deadliest blow of all.

Thomas has always liked questions. The other Gladers could tell him that much, what from the way he used to never stop asking about the most benign details of the Maze. Thomas has never had much to hold against the truth:  as long as curiosity is his best friend, he doesn’t get stuck in that ugly, familiar pattern of giving up before answers are found.

Right now, though, Thomas thinks that he would prefer to shut his eyes again. If he blocks out the world, if he pretends that everything is fine and nothing has changed at all, maybe everything will go back to normal. Maybe he’ll wake up and Y/N will be just the same as ever.

The change happened slowly, piece by piece and fracture by fracture. The Scorch ruined them all, that much is clear, but it did something worse to Y/N. She stalks through the desert like a predator waiting to hunt, and when they face something or someone they have to fight, she becomes a person Thomas has never seen before. She loses some part of herself with every bit of danger that crosses her path. At some point, there will be nothing left, and that is what scares Thomas the most.

She wasn’t always like this. Thomas only had a brief period in the Glade before things turned sour, or at least more sour than life trapped within the stone walls of the Maze with no memories save his own name. In that short time, though, Thomas met Y/N, and he liked what he saw enough to fall in love.

It was easy, falling. Easier than breathing. Easier than dying. She laughed, and the world laughed with her. Thomas watched as Runners dragged themselves out of the Maze, burned out on what their meager lives had to offer, but one conversation with Y/N had them smiling like nothing was the matter. She was the only one who could talk Gally out of a foul temper every time he wanted to start a fight. Well, every time but one, down in the depths of the ruined W.I.C.K.E.D. structure, but no one likes to think about that.

Even Thomas, terrified out of his mind that nothing made sense when he was certain that it should, wasn’t immune to Y/N’s optimism. He remembers sitting with her out on the grass, watching the sun set. There were moments on Bonfire Night when he knew he would give her the world, and early mornings just before he set out for the Maze in which one look her way gave Thomas the courage of thousands of men.

It was good back then, and Thomas wishes he had the hindsight to appreciate that before they escaped. Something happened in between their journey out of the Maze and the present day, something to turn Y/N’s ever-present grin into a deadly glare. She doesn’t smile like she used to, she doesn’t smile at all. It’s rare that she’ll speak more than a few words at a time, and those are always tinged with a foreign cruelty.

Thomas has racked his brain about a thousand times, searching for clues he never picked up to explain the change in Y/N’s behavior. Every time, though, he comes up short. If Grievers and memory loss couldn’t shake her, why this? What do the shifting sands of the Scorch hold to torment her so?

He still holds out hope that maybe they’ll make it to a safe place and Y/N’s fierce temper will leave her. One day far in the future, Thomas could wake up to her laughing just like before. It could be alright. The others have given up on that, but Thomas holds on.

Then again, the others don’t share in the love that Thomas feels for Y/N, so maybe that explains it. He’s heard the Gladers murmuring when Y/N isn’t around, shunning her cold eyes and curled fists. Thomas wants to defend her, but he gets the feeling that she almost enjoys her new reputation, using it as a shield to block out the rest of the world. If her friends can’t stand her, then surely her enemies will all but run the other way.

They need to count on her loyalty, though, and given all the changes to Y/N’s character, Thomas knows the others doubt even that. There is no time for second guessing friends turned into foes, there are already far more villains than anyone could ever need.

The small, struggling group of Gladers has to pass through a section of a Flare-ravaged city. Skyscrapers that must have been impressive once upon a time are broken and bloodied by rust now, bits and pieces disappearing by the day. The metal has lost its shine, the glass stripped of all but its ability to cut through flesh like butter. Everywhere Thomas looks, he sees places where maniacs could hide, or sharp chunks of debris that could be used as weapons. 

It’s not on his bucket list of dream destinations, to say the least, but they have no other choice. Circumnavigating this broken metropolis would take them days they don’t have. If they don’t reach the hideout of the Right Arm in time, they’ll all die in this godforsaken desert. The Gladers can risk a few Crank attacks if it means making it to a source of potential allies.

That’s what they tell themselves, at least. Still, Thomas doesn’t miss the way the group draws into itself, shoulders brushing against shoulders as they pretend they’re not half so scared as they actually are. Every time the wind whips around a desiccating office building, sending rivets and bolts scurrying down the road, everyone jumps about a foot.

One uneasy night and day later, they’re almost out. Thomas has just started to formulate the trembling hope that they might be able to pass through without incident when he starts seeing things out of the corners of his eyes. Shadowy creatures jump back into obscurity whenever he cranes his head for a better look, but the second Thomas redirects his gaze towards the road ahead, they creep back out again.

The others see it too, Thomas can tell. They all shift closer and closer together until they’re practically walking into each other with every step. Still, it’s better than the alternative. Somehow, he gets the feeling that naming those silhouettes aloud would finally allow them to charge.

Even with the maintained silence, the figures in the shadows don’t care much for inactivity. The bounds of the city are just in sight when the shapes start making noise. The streets echo with it, a cacophony of clicks and jeers, howls and coughs. The unearthly symphony makes Thomas shudder, cold slicking over his spine like fingers made of ice.

Thomas just has enough time to think that it sounds like a war cry when the silhouettes give up their lurking and pounce. Cranks appear out of nowhere, sprinting towards the Gladers with all the speed that complete and utter insanity gives you. Thomas sees some figures so damaged by time and the elements that bones poke out of their legs, but they still run like they’re competing for a national title.

Minho shouts for everyone to go, go, but it’s not like anyone wants to stick around. The Gladers hurl themselves towards the city limits; most Cranks are territorial, they give up the chase once prey heads further into the desert. That’ll be their only hope. Thomas picks up the rear, dragging friends forward when they stumble and praying that they all make it.

This side of the city is surrounded by a low wall, most likely to keep Cranks out. Now it just serves to keep sane humans in. Minho turns towards a section that’s started to crumble and jumps up with ease, perching on top to start hauling people over. It’s slow going, though, and the Cranks aren’t giving up their chase.

Thomas picks up a fallen piece of metal scaffolding by his side, swinging it experimentally like a baseball bat before turning to face the oncoming mass of Cranks. The first few go down easily, but the numbers aren’t in his favor. Someone joins the fight on his side, thankfully, and Thomas dodges a blow before turning to see who’s sticking their neck out to keep the creatures at bay.

To his surprise, it’s Y/N. She faces down the Cranks, expression grim but determined. She also wields a chunk of debris, and Thomas watches as she impales a nearby Crank before finding another victim. Thomas has a vague, fleeting memory of Winston joking about how Y/N always got totally grossed out by the amount of blood the Slicers had to deal with. Now, she’s chopping through Cranks like they were those same farm animals doomed to the blade.

Minho shouts to the two of them, and they abandon the fight to scale the wall as well. Once in the desert, the Gladers continue running, but they slow down once it’s clear that the Cranks won’t be following. Hands on his knees, Thomas catches his breath. He looks over at Y/N, searching her face for some sign of kindness. After all, she just risked herself to protect him against those Cranks.

All he sees, though, is that same blank pessimism that’s come to haunt him. Y/N catches him looking and eyes him coolly for a moment before deciding that even the endless sands hold better entertainment and turning away. Thomas is left to wonder why she would care enough to save his life but not enough to reward him with a smile.

Dusk rushes upon the land, making further travel impossible. The city had been in their way, and now they’ll need the light of morning to illuminate where they should travel next. There are a few buildings past the wall, twisting remnants of the city. Thomas recommends that they stay the night in that shelter, as it’s the best they’ll get for a while. Even after he closes his eyes, Thomas swears he can still feel the shadow of the infected city looming over him, practically breathing down his back.

It makes sleep impossible, to say the least. Eventually, Thomas gives up on fidgeting from side to side in the hopes of unconsciousness and quietly gets up, retreating to another hall in their temporary hideout to refrain from waking the others. His pulse skyrockets when he hears a noise, but he’s able to settle once it grows obvious that the source is not a Crank but another Glader. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one unable to fall asleep.

Thomas draws closer to the source of the sound. He heads into a nearby room and spots a silhouette crouching in the corner. A broken out window lets moonlight race through the cracks and towards the other occupant. Thomas blinks, and he realizes it’s Y/N. Y/N is not doing well, though. Something is wrong. The tones of her skin are different, darker in places than expected.

It’s hard to see, what with the shadows still pressing ominously around everything, but Thomas thinks– yes, it is, that’s blood covering almost half of her body. The scarlet stuff is practically painted on her, palms up to the elbows, dotting her face like gruesome freckles. He realizes that she must have gone back to the city and rid it of its mad occupants once and for all.

Y/N is staring back at him now, daring him to say something. Thomas swallows hard and tries not to sound too horrified. It’s not an easy task.

“I’m not sure it’s the best thing to be so covered in Crank blood,” he manages to choke out at last.

Y/N just laughs. It’s a bitter, harsh sound, and it reminds him a little too much of the shrieks and giggles of the infected. “I’m immune, Thomas, it doesn’t matter. They can’t do anything to me but die.”

“Still,” Thomas begins, but his courage fractures. Still, she shouldn’t tempt fate by being so careless around potential pathogens. Still, she shouldn’t be this far removed from someone Thomas knew without even falling victim to the Flare.

Y/N stands slowly, and it takes everything in him for Thomas to not flinch. “Go ahead, judge me. Say what you want. I know you and the rest have been too afraid to mention it to my face, but you can’t keep it back forever. You hate me. You’re scared of me. Just say it.”

Thomas shakes his head. “I’m not scared of you. I just miss you.”

Y/N spreads her arms. The gesture is meant to be welcoming, but Thomas can’t stop staring at the blood dried across her skin. “I’m right here, Thomas. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“You have,” he whispers back, “the girl I met back in the Glade, she’s gone. I think you left her there. I don’t know who you are anymore, but she’s not my friend.”

Y/N draws back as if slapped. “I’m still me. You might not like it, but I’m me. I changed to survive. We all did. It’s not my fault if you want to keep clinging to an illusion. This is who I have to be if I want to live.”

“And what about the inhabitants of that city?” Thomas asks pointedly, “Didn’t they want to live?”

Y/N gives him a cross look. “They wanted to live before they became Cranks. I’m making sure people who come after us will find a safe place to hide from everyone else. You can go on believing in fairytales, but at least one of us had to grow up. Maybe it had to be me.”

Thomas sighs, the ghost of the sound circling the two of them on disappointed, broken wings. “I don’t want to believe in fairytales, Y/N. I just want to believe in you.”

“Then do it,” she says softly.

“I wish I could,” Thomas replies.

It’s quiet for a minute. Thomas thinks she might hate him. Then, her voice comes again, barely discernible in the darkened room.

“Did you love me?” A pause. “Back in the Glade. Did you love me then?”

Thomas’ throat feels tight. “I loved you then, and I love you now. I just need to know that you’re not going to leave.”

“Not more than I have, you mean,” Y/N corrects.

“Yes.” Thomas puts it plainly.

They both know what it means, how far Y/N has gone from the girl he once knew. For once, though, Thomas thinks that he might have made some headway in correcting her course.

Y/N stares at her hands, starting to rub them together as if trying to wash the red from her skin. “I can’t get it out. The blood.”

“I’ll help you clean it,” Thomas answers her unspoken plea, “I’ll help you today, and every other day after that. You just have to let me do it.”

Y/N looks up at him now, and seems to question something before nodding at last. “I will.”

It’s as close as she’ll get to an apology for now. Maybe later, once the dangers settle, they’ll have a better ending. Thomas is happy with this, though. In a world such as theirs, it’s all they can ask for. They can try again.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part Five

“Do you think I’m a bad person?” The villain sucked another hickey into the hero’s neck with a precision and calculation the hero didn’t know from lovers. Apparently, the villain was more than attentive: they were not only considerate of the hero’s wounds but also of their reactions.

Whatever they did to make the hero moan, they kept doing it until the hero was too overwhelmed with pleasure. Hungrily, the hero had watched them stitch the reopened wound again. A slow burning had overtaken their brain and heart, making it impossible to think well.

The villain had more self control, though. They calmed down the hero, made them go slower, urged them to relax more. Even though they let the hero sit on their lower stomach, they were fully leading the situation with their hands in the hero’s hair and on their waist.

Every now and then, one of them hissed out of pain, especially the villain when the hero got a little too excited.

Both were far from being healed.

“You’re not a bad person,” the hero said.

“I can be very rude,” the villain whispered against the hero’s lips which made the hero smile.

“Yes, but…you came back. You could’ve gone anywhere but you chose to be with me.”

The villain wasn’t so eager now and the hero thought they had said something wrong. Had turned a switch, had scared the villain and now they were quiet again.

“I didn’t tell you everything,” they confessed.

“I know. But I know what I need to know.” The hero kissed their cheek gently, staring at the band aid on the villain’s face.

“I never told anyone before but I think you might understand what it feels like.” The hero’s attention switched to the villain’s serious eyes. It was true, their adrenaline was spiking from pleasure and they wanted the villain so bad but this was more important than their desires.

Whatever the villain was gonna say, it was going to be horrible, the hero knew that.

“I come from a family of means and…when I was younger a criminal organisation decided to use that. They kidnapped me and my brother. My reluctance bothered them obviously, so they did a lot of fucked up stuff. Beat me up. Put me in cells with worse people, forced me to kill others for their entertainment. My parents kept giving them money to reassure our safety but once I got more violent, they started to give me weapons.”

The hero bit the inside of their cheek again. Hard enough that it hurt. They couldn’t imagine what it must’ve felt like. Being separated from their family like this, fighting to survive, being forced to kill people…Eventually their mind wandered to the plane crash to find something they could compare this with.

Thankfully, they hadn’t known anyone on the plane. But waking up in the jungle with their leg shattered, being experimented on after…suffering was suffering, no matter what. Suffering ate and didn’t leave. Even if the worst was over, it stayed and infected the brain. It stuck around to punch them in the face every now and then.

Subconsciously, they took the villain’s hand.

“And they sent me on missions. Made an assassin out of me. All backed up by the promise they wouldn’t hurt my little brother in return. He’s nine now, doesn’t even remember our family anymore. I— I don’t know what to do. I’m still coming back to them for my brother. My parents seem to be still alive. At least, the money keeps coming in. I’m just so tired of this. I’m so tired of fighting and running around like a dog.”

The villain swallowed and the hero could see the little tears gathering in their eyes.

“Hey,” the hero said gently. They cupped the villain’s face and wiped the tears away with their thumbs. “We can work together, okay?”

They kissed the villain slowly, lovely.

“We can do this together. We can make a plan, gather resources. I can steal tech from the agency. They won’t notice if we’re quick. We can free your brother and you can return home. Change our names and move to another city.”

The villain nodded slowly, red eyes trying not to look at the hero as a few other tears rolled down their face.

“Thank you,” they whispered. It was their turn to kiss the hero and they did. Not as passionately as before but tenderly, lovingly. It was a scary thought for the hero. Loving someone was messy and complicated and difficult. But they were certain if there was one person in the entire world who could understand them and their pain, it was the villain. The villain was the only one who was able to protect them, who was on their side.

So, they allowed themselves to get lost in the moment. To enjoy the warmth the villain gave them, to mumble reassurances and little compliments until the villain’s ears go red. Everything was perfect and for a moment the hero felt like they were healed. Until the villain got the text message.

They let their phone beep once, then twice. With a sigh and an uttered sorry, they sat up and took their phone out, scrolling on the display until they found the right message. Apparently, the villain didn’t check them.

The hero didn’t see the message. But they saw the villain’s pale face.

“Are you…?”

“Where did you put my suit?” The villain’s voice was scarily cold and the hero’s throat burnt. Was this some sort of protection? Turning into a cold wall to keep themselves form feeling anyway.

“I…I think it’s in my bathroom somewhere. It’s totally ripped apart, though, I don’t think you can—” Not answering, the villain stood up and disappeared in the bathroom.

“Hey, what is going on?” The hero followed them just as quickly. All the progress, all the secrets they had revealed to each other seemed to be falling apart.

“Whatever it is, we can work through it,” they promised. The villain looked around the bathroom, their movements almost mechanical. They found their suit in the bathtub where the hero had tried to clean it.

“No, we can’t” the villain answered bluntly.

“We can. We decide what we do with our life. How we act. Those are decisions only we can make for ourselves.”

The villain turned around, looking at the person they had wanted to devour a few minutes ago.

“It doesn’t work like that,” they said. “People like us aren’t allowed to decide.”

“No, that’s not the true—” They took a step forward to touch the villain’s arm but the villain moved away, as if the hero would burn themselves if they touched them. “Please, whatever happened, we can do this together.”

The villain turned around, heading for the door but the hero didn’t give them up that easily.

“Please,” they begged. “We can’t run away from our problems anymore. We both deserve to be happy. We both deserve a life.”

The villain breathed in and turned around. Once again, tears ran down their face, worse this time. Surprisingly, they walked up the hero and kissed them. It was quick but the hero knew it now. This was love. It was all of it. The good stuff, the bad stuff. The hurt and the comfort.

But it ended too soon and with that, the villain took all the warmth the hero had discovered these past few days with them.

“Leave the city,” the villain said. “Get away from the agency. You deserve a good life. You deserve to be happy.”

“But I want to be happy with you.” The hero felt tears rising as well. Confusion and grief together made them want to make drastic decisions. They grabbed the villain’s forearm.

“There will be someone else who can take care of you.”

“I don’t want someone else.”

“No. You’re in danger when you’re with me,” the villain argued. They were crying, their nose was running. “This is what they do.”

They showed the hero the message. They’d sent a picture of a severed finger, blood all over the concrete where it lay. In the background, a crying boy. Told you to remember my puppy.

Looking away, the hero whispered a simple “no,” unable to believe the horror they had seen, unable to believe that worse might happen to the villain too.

“They sent me your address,” the villain said. They could barely breathe. “Leave. God, please leave the city, I am begging you.”

The hero shook their head over and over again.

“But I love you,” they whispered.

“I told you. We aren’t allowed to make those decisions. We don’t get what we want.”

With one last longing gaze, they looked at the hero, not ready for the goodbye. Not ready for the pain. And yet both knew this was it. There was no turning back from this.

Both knew what suffering was. But they had never felt anything like this before.

[unlimitedhearts]

I’m dreading the third game of Spiderman might kill off Harry :/ either he’s goblin (solo or probably along with daddy-o) and dies a la Hero Sacrifice. Or kept comatose and in the end with grim results the decision is to pull the plug on him. idk I feel Harry’s fate is doom and gloom. But they could have killed Harry at the end of this sequel giving a strong motivation for Norman to be the Goblin and hatred for Spider-Man…yet they didn’t. idk rambling thoughts. What do you think?

Personally i can see both options. I saw someone in the tags of my last headcanon post say that it wouldnt make sense to save him from death in this game only to kill him in the next. On some level i get that, why wait when you could do it now?

I have two worst case scenarios in my head:

Harry wakes up from his coma w amnesia a la the third Tobey Maguire movie. Hes unaware of Pete being Spider-Man and Peter, thinking hes protecting Harry, wont tell him. This may cause a rift in their friendship when Harry finds out - or if Norman ends up going goblin and dies - Spider-Man is to blame in Harrys eyes and he'll go after him then. To me this is a tired trope of Harry getting an intense hatred for Spidey and wanting to kill him over his father. It always felt out of character for me and i truly TRULY hope they dont go this route.

Harry becomes the Kobold. In the comics, Kobold is essentially Harrys way of making the Green Goblin a good guy. If he still wants to fight by Peters side, he'll find a way to do it. Kobold would make a lot of sense to me personally, as it kind of continues their dynamic from this game. Then at the end theres a heros sacrifice to be made and Harry goes for it despite Peters protests. This would be lazy to me too though because he essential already did the heros sacrifice in this game. Seems like theyd just want us to have more time with him to love him even more, just to make losing him hurt worse. I wouldn't put it past an intrepid writer to think they could make it work, but it just seems lazy to me.

Actual best case scenario for me though? Harry wakes up as the g-serum is being injected. Hes against being his dads experiment all over again so he runs and finds Peter. Hes not aware of his pseudo-retirement, he just goes straight to the place thats always been his safe haven; Peters home. He asks Peter to hide him from his dad. Tries to explain everything but hes exhausted and frantic. Peter agrees and they take him into hiding.

Norman, ever the expert deflector, doesnt see this as a failing on his part. Hes convinced spider-man had something to do with his son escaping so he puts out a hit on him. Hes ready, willing, and able to capture and kill at least one of the two spider-men it doesnt matter. We see him pardon Wilson Fisk for this job, and when Fisk cant do it, he has to. Normans going to go Goblin. I know it, i can feel it in my bones.

Miles asks Peter to get back in action and he does. Fisk, plus potentially Otto again, plus this brand new villain in town is too much for any one person to handle. Heres where i see Harry becoming a "Guy In The Chair" for Peter like Ganke is for Miles. Two Guys in the Chair helping the spider-men is definitely better than one. I could also see Harrys goblin powers start to emerge but he keeps pushing them down. Last time he gave into power it didnt end well for anyone.

In an effort to not write out the entire plot of the game as i see fit (because itd be long and there are so many moving pieces and characters and IDEK WHERE THEYRE GONNA PUT SILK IN-), i think if Harry does take on the cowl he'll be doing so against his father. I think i see Harry becoming Goblin/Kobold to fight against Norman and ultimately try to help Peter/Miles. This is where i see Harry either accidentally killing Norman or Norman killing his son (and of course, blaming Spider-Man)

There is also room, in my mind, to bring back Venom a la Lethal Protector/Agent Venom. But tbh if they do, i would much rather Venom go to Eddie Brock or Flash Thompson. But thats just the separate Venom Fangirl Entity within me.

Ultimately my hope of course is that Harry not die and they dont go down that all too tired and hackneyed trope of Harry growing to hate Peter dor whatever reason. I truly TRULY hope they dont go that route it is just SO tired and lazy. I want them to stay close and loving. Whatever route they go with will be SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL if Harry Osborn lives and doesnt make a full 180 on his best friend for no good reason.

[brekwrites]

Please Brek, if you feel inspired to write something about Eclipse x Dark Sun, don't hesitate to publish and share it. I'm excited to read content from that new ship and if it's written by someone who can write as well as you, I think might faint in a good way.

Fantastic news for you, my friend. I’ve been thinking about them. I need some time to stew with my thoughts, to sus out the vibes and what not, but here are my preliminary thoughts under the cut bc I love to yap:

I’m thinking maybe while Dark Sun is messing around in the back of Eclipse’s head, he notices something. Yeah, Eclipse is screaming, because it hurts, but he’s also leaning into the contact. Turns out he’s so starved for touch and connection that anything will do, even he’s seeking comfort from the person that’s inflicting the pain in the first place.

That hits home for Dark Sun, because it reminds him of how he used to be with his Moon in their mindscape. But he’s got a plan and he’s going to carry it out, so he finishes his work and sends Eclipse back with the information he wanted.

As Eclipse works to bring Solar back, Dark Sun shows up every once in a while to make “adjustments” to whatever he put in the back of Eclipse’s head, and keeps pulling him to the side for check ups. He goes quietly because he’s terrified that someone will see them together and accuse him of working with the villain without giving him a chance to explain. And during the check ups, if Dark Sun doesn’t actually hurt him, and ends up touching him surprisingly gently, who is he to question why?

Eventually he does end up bringing back Solar, though it requires a pretty big sacrifice on his end (not to the point of death tho, in this case). Everyone is so excited to see Solar again, though, that in the commotion they sort of just… forget Eclipse? They don’t ignore him or anything, and Earth even makes a point to talk to him after and thank him, but he realizes that Solar sort of fills the space he could have occupied once upon a time. There isn’t really room for him anymore.

He needs repairs afterwards, and Moon promises to get to them first thing tomorrow, but he clearly wants to spend time with Solar just like the rest of the family, and Eclipse, even though it hurts and he hurts and it should be him not Solar this is HIS dimension not Solar’s, lets him go, lets them all go, and goes back to the Fazcade alone.

And if he cries a bit, no one will know because no one is there. He’s alone.

Until he isn’t. Dark Sun shows up because he lost signal from whatever he put in Eclipse. Turns out the strain of bringing Solar back fried it (or so he says). He sees the state Eclipse is in, mentally and physically, and it’s worse than he thought. He’s going to have to bring him back to his dimension for this (wink, wink).

Eclipse goes without protest. He’s on the tail end of a meltdown and just feels numb. Dark Sun takes him into the heart of his fortress, to his workshop, and carefully repairs him. It takes hours, but he doesn’t stop for more than a quick 5-10 minute break and he never leaves him once. And he’s so gentle and careful as he fixes him up. It’s that Sun instinct, to care and help and dote, mixed with Moon’s project-oriented focus and skill. He has a wayward thought that Dark Sun is all the best parts of Sun and Moon, where he got all their worst tendencies, the things they shoved aside because they didn’t want anymore.

And maybe he cries again. And Dark Sun, surprisingly, doesn’t laugh at him or tell him to stop. He holds him carefully, if a bit awkwardly, like he hasn’t used that part of his programming in a long time, and keeps fixing him. At some point, Eclipse slips into rest mode, exhausted from the whole ordeal.

When he wakes up, he’s in a bed he doesn’t recognize somewhere in Dark Sun’s fortress. He gets up, has a look around, wonders the halls a bit, and eventually finds his way back to the workshop, where Sun is working on his star prototype.

Eclipse very awkwardly thanks him, then asks why he fixed him in the first place. And they go back and forth for a bit until Dark Sun asks him if he wants to stay with him. It turns out he’s a been lonely, too. And Eclipse… realizes that he wouldn’t mind that. Reviving Solar had been his goal for a so long, and he doesn’t really know what to do now, and the thought of having to find a new purpose is incredibly stressful.

It would be nice if someone else could make the decisions for a while.

So, eventually they end up in a sort of parallel to the Lord Eclipse and Servant Sun dimension. They’re Dark Lord Sun and Knight Eclipse, or something like that. Sun eventually finishes the star, though its probably based on negative energy, which maybe Eclipse had to harness to bring Solar back anyway, so Eclipse maybe actually helps him make it. And then there’s a star right there in front of him, and it’d be so easy to try to take it, but…

He doesn’t want it. He’s not a servant to Dark Sun, but he is in service to him, and he kind of prefers it that way. And somewhere along the way they get together, though I’m not really sure where, and they live in their pocket dimension and do dimension-related things and surveillance and occasionally visit the home dimension (mostly for Eclipse to see Earth), and this isn’t something Eclipse ever could have predicted he’d have, but it’s good. Life is good.

(And maybe Dark Sun, Solar, and Moon (and then occasionally Eclipse) hang out sometimes and work on joint projects together and are sort of a team that tries to handle dimensional anomalies to keep something like what happened with Ruin from happening again. And puppet helps as well or something idk I haven’t thought this far. Maybe Moon and Solar are in a qpr and puppet and solar are dating 🤷🏻‍♀️)

So anyway that’s how I think it’d go, and this is a pretty decent outline, so you can probably look forward to a fic about this in the future lmfao. Thanks for the ask!

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - Dracula Daily - July 27

In which Mina is even more anxious….

“No news from Jonathan. I am getting quite uneasy about him, though why I should I do not know; but I do wish that he would write, if it were only a single line.”

:(((((( it feels like Mina is almost bargaining here, asking for “only a single line” from him. I feel so bad for her because she cannot know what Jonathan is currently going through just to get home to her safely! It’s also sad because when I see this, all I can think of is the last line in his diary: “Goodbye, all! Mina!” The worst part is, she can’t even put her finger on why, her intuition is just telling her something is wrong and she should be worried. And it’s right.

“Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the room. Fortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get cold; but still the anxiety and the perpetually being wakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myself. Thank God, Lucy's health keeps up.”

Yikes, that would definitely make me anxious if I was constantly being awoken by someone pacing around the room, compounded with my anxiety for my fiancé. But what can Mina do except try to sleep the best she can? And through it all, she’s only worried about Lucy’s health and how this could be affecting her. I love Mina so much, she’s so selfless. I just want her to be ok too, though. Who’s looking out for her? :(

“Mr. Holmwood has been suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken seriously ill. Lucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looks; she is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose-pink. She has lost that anæmic look which she had. I pray it will all last.”

Oh, no!! Again, poor Arthur. I’m sure he hoped it wouldn’t be too serious and now his father has taken a turn for the worse. I know it may seem shallow of Lucy to worry about the postponement, but I think I can explain her logic:

1. She might be covering up her worry for Arthur’s dad and Arthur’s mental health by making it about something else. That might seem strange, but I think it’s possible that she might want to think about/talk about something more trivial than her concrete worries about her future father-in-law’s health and how her fiancé will take this sudden turn in his health. The more time she’s worrying about when she’ll see him again, the less time she’ll worry about how he’s doing emotionally (not the best coping mechanism, but I’ve seen it — and done it — before).

2. If she can’t see Arthur, she can’t comfort him. Letters can only do so much. :(

3. Deep down, she may be insecure about her place with Arthur. What if he doesn’t love her as much as he says/she dares hope? What if he decides to cancel the engagement after he sees to his father since they haven’t seen each other in a while? It may not have even been that long, but that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I don’t think this is a case of Arthur not demonstrating his love to her enough, but rather her own anxiety taking over her thoughts.

Concerning that she had an anæmic look, but I’m honestly not worried about this — I think she was just worrying and she looked a bit pale because of this (I could go into why I’m not concerned, but that’s verging on spoilers — let’s just say I think Lucy’s fine, just worried).

This last sentence breaks my heart a bit for Mina because she’s not just talking about Lucy’s healthy looks here. She knows lots of things are on the verge of changing: Lucy’s health while sleep-walking (she could catch a cold or get outside!!), Jonathan’s health (what if something bad has happened to him — or what if he’s changed his mind too 😳), and Arthur’s father’s health. Her intuition is saying that something is wrong here, but obviously she can’t confide to Lucy. Two-thirds of those worries are things that would worry Lucy further and the last point with Jonathan would only add a new burden. Besides, it might make the possibility of Jonathan in bad health (or worse) too real, if that makes sense. Hopefully, things will look up soon.

That’s it for this one!

[vincentvalenfine]

This always seems to be overlooked when writing about vincent and being his s/o, but his s/o's mortality. He'd watch as you go grey and wrinkle, then eventually die. You'd eventually leave him all alone again, hallow and hurt that he's yet again lost another person he's loved dearly.

My heart can't stand that at all bc he deserves to have someone with him wholeheartedly, so what if vincent had an s/o who's immortal? Ageless and undying, able to stand at his side through thick and thin, a s/o who understands the tragedy of getting attatched to those around them and watching them pass on, being able to keep him grounded even as time passes by you both like the trickling sand in an hourglass. Your friends might not be alive, but you've got each other and the memories you made together with them.

Deepground is a very special hell.

You'd been a SOLDIER, years ago. You had blindly trusted Shinra, your leaders, your best friend - and all that trust had earned you was endless experimentation and torture. You were one of the lucky ones that didn't degrade, or fall victim to the call of Jenova. Others you had watched grow ashen and disintegrate, or worse start trying to climb free of their enclosures only to be shot down before they could be twisted to the Calamity's will and ruin the hard work that had gone into the president's pet project.

You were lucky in that you hadn't been picked for the ranks of the beasts or drones, though not by chance. No, it was because your body resisted the worst effects of the experiments and brutal training regimens, took the mako it was given and forged your body into something stronger and more resilient than before.

For that, you were rewarded with even more experiments.

When the Restrictors met their bloody end at Weiß's hands, it wasn't a relief but merely a change in who held the leash, finding no relief for your torment. The Tsviets had plans of their own, and to that end they needed Deepground to grow stronger still.

So the experimentation continued, and you found yourself ripped open and remade in ways no human should be, though that's just another day in Deepground by now. One more member for the otherwise finished Metamorphosis Project, and it was barely a mercy to have avoided being a member when Azul the Cerulean had slaughtered the rest of the subjects. Either way, you had no choice about it, nor the ability to resist when you were locked away in a mako bath to await the Tsviets' orders.

But when you wake, there are no Tsviets to command you.

Instead there are different soldiers, ones who aim their guns warily as you sprawl gracelessly on the cold metal floor and cough up enough mako to kill most people, shuddering and shaking violently. They whisper to themselves and debate whether you're hostile, if they should kill you while you're disoriented, unaware of the keenness of your hearing or that their bullets probably won't do anything worse than tickle you. Deepground training insists you should rip through them the moment you're up, but the Weapon in you has flagged something (someone?) else as a much more dangerous presence, yet also... an ally, somehow. Kinship.

A pair of golden sabatons approach and stop a foot or so away, and the sudden weight of fabric drapes over your otherwise nude form. You're able to lift your head at this point and make eye contact; amber ringed crimson meets with unnatural yellow-green, results of experiments and torture both locking together as the man with wild black hair clad in leather crouches in front of you.

"Are you alright?" he asks, as if you've merely tripped.

Part of you realizes that no one else in this room might ever understand you as well as this man could. You take a deep breath of the cleanest air you've tasted in over a decade, then croak an honest answer. "I don't know."

He hums, tilting his head thoughtfully, then offers you his hand, seeming utterly unbothered by your mako drenched state. After a moment of staring, wondering what he might truly intend with the gesture, you reach out and take it in your own. Even with a leather glove in the way there's a spark, a connection that makes both of you pause with wide eyes before he recovers his composure and lifts you to your feet with ease. Like recognizing like.

"Vincent Valentine." The way he says it almost confuses you until you realize that's his name. You nod and speak your own name like it's foreign, a title that's been so long unused you barely remember who that person used to be. He hums again and nods in return, then finally realizes he's still holding your hand and lets go to step back. "Welcome to the World Regenesis Organization."

All you can think of is the name Vincent Valentine, and wonder why you're free.