#though the worst part is that i might wake up to something worse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animeyanderelover · 1 year ago

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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.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere itadori #yandere itadori yuji #yandere megumi #yandere fushiguro megumi #yandere maki #yandere zenin maki #yandere sukuna #yandere ryomen sukuna #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento

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arieslost · 9 months ago

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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

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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note: every charles leclerc request i get makes my heart soar because not only do i get to write about my favorite driver but i also get to improve on said writing THANK U ANON

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

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dividers by @/saradika

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lycandrophile · 1 year ago

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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!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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igotanidea · 8 days ago

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(7) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1/ part 2 / part 3 / part 4/ part 5 / part 6

A/N: ladies and gentlemen I give you : THE FINALE! happy early b-day @pookieisme4life 🎁🎁 (I was about to wait till 24th but it turned out impossible I am so excited to post it!!!)

***

„Who the hell are you?”

Honestly, he could care less about the ID of the mystery person, nor he hoped for the actual answer, but the initial shock did just that.

They were driving towards some unknown destination that was allegedly the location of the place Y/N was taken to.

“Nice try, Nightwing. Keep dreaming” the person, who was already deemed as a woman, laughed, swirling abruptly yet skillfully.

“Seriously you can’t just expect me to address you in a hey, you way.”

“Valid point. For the sake of it, let’s settle on calling me Shadow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Now why are you helping me?”

“I did some bad things In my life. Maybe this is my way of making up for them.”

“Huh. Seeking redemption?”

“Pretty nice trope, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was actually pretty nice to be able to use humor even in dire situations. “I was always a sucker for the character who wants to do better in their life.”

“Yeah. At least you chose a better way to do so than my brother.”

“You mean Red Hood?”

“For someone I don’t know shit about, you seem awfully knowledgeable about my family ties.”

“Intel is everything, Nightwing. And yes, I know what your other brother, Red Robin, might say.”

“Who the hell are you?!” At this point Dick was really getting curious.

“A friend.” She responded, looking right at him, her eyes shining from behind the mask.

***

“Let me go!!”

“Easy princess. Behave or this might actually get worse for you.”

“LET ME GO!!” she struggled against the binding on her wrist and the sack put on her head.

“What did I tell you, you bitch!?” She was abruptly pulled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Fuck you!”

“If I were you, I’d cooperate, you little slut. Otherwise we might have to scar that pretty face of yours more than it’s necessary.”

With a sharp movement the sack was torn off her head and she had to squint her eyes from the light that hit her eyes with excessive force, reinforced by the fact she had just spent god knows how much time in a dark car with eyes covered.

“Shit…” there was no possibility to hold back the hiss and a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes sunshine, you’re in deep shit.” The kidnapper kneeled to her level and caressed her cheek in a condescending gesture, obviously misreading her tears as a sign of fear and submission. “So pretty…”

“Piss off!” she acted instinctively, ending up with a slap on the cheek and stinging sensation that only added to her anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“I had a stinking sack on my head, maybe there was something wrong with my hearing at the time and – “ her head spun to the side as another slap, this time far harder landed on her cheek.

“Well you definitely heard me now. And if you didn’t I won’t hesitate to remind you again. Now get up, we’re taking you to the boss.”

Great.

She was in a freaking video game, when two brainless thugs captured her for a reason that was still a mystery to her and was now taking her to the den of a final boss on the level.

***

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Should she even be surprised that said den had a design of a video game? Dark, cold, adjourned with different kinds of weapons scattered here and there, huge desk in the middle and three monitors that took up the entire wall?

Almost grotesque.

But hey, who was she to judge the taste of Gotham’s criminals, right?

She probably should have been terrified, praying to every higher power to be saved by Batman, Red Hood, Robin or – damn – even Poison Ivy in the worst case, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to that particular emotion. It was like her brain refused to anchor in reality and everything turned into a freaking dream she was sure to wake up from any second now.

Though maybe getting back to reality in which Dick was still with Sienna and she was brokenhearted wasn’t really a good alternative.

Right. Dick.

Did he even notice her gone? Or was he too busy patching things up with his girlfriend, already forgetting about Y/N? The girl he claimed to love?

A kick in the back of the knees that send her to the floor (again) made her realize that while getting lost in her thoughts she missed the obviously very important and very detailed speech of the villain who was describing his wicked plan to take over the world and –

“Ouch!”

“Stupid bitch.”

“It hurts!” she tried to squirm away from the kicking but it was immensely hard with her hands still bound.

“Hold the fire, boys. Easy. The lady is our guest after all and this is not how we treat guests, is it?” The goons chuckled darkly, because clearly guests were deserving of a far more cruel and brutal treatment. “Now, now, don’t be scared little one. We won’t hurt you. Much. At least not until you give us what we want.”

The owner of a deep, husky voice, who clearly was the host of the party finally decided to step forward and show his face.

Well.

Not exactly showing his face.

***

“Could you at least tell me who we’re dealing with here?!” Dick muttered, keeping his voice low as he and Shadow pulled at the abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. “Do you even know?”

“Why? Does it matter?” Shadow joked “Would you use a different contingency plan for Riddler and another one for Two Face?”

“Could you please stop joking about it? This is my girlfriend we’re talking about!”

The emotions started to come to the surface, and Nightwing started becoming uncharacteristically scatter-brained.

“Idiot. Keep it down!” Shadow hissed, pulling him behind the corridor crease, miraculously avoiding the watchful gaze of the guardian. “Here’s what I get for putting myself at risk. Nightwing announcing his presence to the entire compound filled with criminals. Get yourself together. Or is it too hard for you?!”

Dick grimaced. He hated himself at the moment. For both losing his cool, especially in front of someone who could hold it against him and for missing on precious time since every second counted.

“Y/N. Think about Y/N.” he muttered to himself “She needs your help. Now more than ever.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming down the storm inside him to the point where he was actually in control and capable of turning the fear and concern into anger.

If anyone touched his Y/N….

“You back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.” He opened his eyes, completely focused, eyes sharp, instincts on high alert. “Tell me who’s the fucker who dared to take her.”

“Black Mask.”

“Fucker.” The word left Dick’s lips without the involvement of his brain. That was how much he loved her. The golden boy, teasing, joking and playful nightwing turned into a machine, swearing and ready to freaking kill, almost Red Hood like.

“So? Ready to kick some asses?”

“After you.” The predatory smirk blooming on his face was a sign of incoming violence and spilling blood.

***

Her screams mixed with the ones coming from the corridor in a beautiful, gory cacophony of sounds. An ode painted with blood and pain. Maybe that was why for a longer moment no one in the room actually paid attention nor was willing to try and differentiate the sources of notes in the song.

Or maybe it was the fact that the goons’ cries were extremely high-pitched, almost reaching the same key as the yelling of a woman trapped in the torture machine, losing strength with every passing second.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Black Mask laughed cruelly “you don’t get to pass out on me yet. Info first.” The iron grip on her wrist tightened even more, as if that was even possible, cutting into skin and muscle, amplifying the blood loss.

For the last whatever-time-passed she was kept on the edge of consciousness as if Black Mask was hoping that choking, hurting and injecting with some substance would cause her to lose inhibitions and finally blurt out the information he was so dead set on getting.

Who is Nightwing.

Who is Batman.

Any piece of information would turn out to be useful, but since the beginning of the questioning it became painfully clear that that stupid girl was either too weak or too strong to answer.

Too weak because it seemed that even the slightest amount of pain made her repeatedly pass out and too strong because on those intermittent periods where she actually was conscious and aware of the surroundings enough to talk was the one making her extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

And Black Mask was losing his patience.

Here he was, gracing that little scum with his presence instead of submitting her to the treatment of his lower men, with less than gracious methods and she had the audacity to be bratty.

A vicious circle in which he was using the moments to get information only to be refused, beating her again and ending up with a thoughtless body, achieving nothing, over and over again.

He should have just stuck to using his rat, skillfully planted in Gotham.

“Fuck!” he yelled seeing as once again she went limp on the chair only because he pulled her nail. “Stupid bitch!”

“Mmmmm…” Y/N muttered and for a moment the room was completely quiet save from her little whimpering.

And then –

“OUCH!”

“FUCK!”

“RETREAT!”

“The hell?” Black Mask walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Fuck!” Seeing his guards and men being thrown in different directions, sounds of yelling and snapping bones alongside with blood streaming on the floor was not the best view before 7 p.m. and definitely not the best without his favorite drink. Under any other circumstances he would be giving zero fucks about the violence outside the safe door, but now – he had a plan to complete and no one, fucking no one would prevent him from succeeding.

The loud sound of a door’s guard crashing with the metal surface and pictorially sliding down with crushed skull caused Sionis to quickly recalibrate his plan.

Seemed like Red Hood was in the house. And not that Sionis was scared, but-

“Hold them back!” he yelled, grabbing the limp body of Y/N and rushing towards the safety exit, to the roof where his private jet was landed just in case of emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

***

The door broke about 30 seconds after Black Mask rushed to the passage.

“You carry explosives with you everywhere?” Dick muttered, equally impressed and shocked.

“What? It comes in handy and -”

“AAAAH!” Both goons rushed at the two vigilantes before Shadow could finish a sentence, but their brave loud cries quickly turned to quiet, broken sobbing as they were laid down.

“Be a sweetheart and tell me where he went?” Nightwing leaned over the goon with an almost soft smile.

“mhm…” inert waving towards the passage was enough of an answer.

“Good boy. Thanks.”

***

“NO!!” she yelled as Black Mask was dragging her through the roof. Sudden realization of all the things that could go wrong making her much more valiant and strong. As long as she was still in Gotham and not exported to another city or – god forbid – country – could result in being deemed as another missing-without-trail- person.

That is – if someone was even looking for her in the first place.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at the thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

And the terror she was holding back for so long, since the moment of being dragged into that black SUV, finally found a way out…

“NIGHTWING!!!”

***

“Y/N!!”

A dead man would hear that cry and even a dead man would rise from the dead at the sheer desperation beaming from the voice.

“Y/N!!! I’m coming!”

***

“You’re becoming a trouble!” Black Mask hissed, slapping her repeatedly, drawing another stream of blood this time from the broken lip.

“I – “

“I’m so done with you. Should have just killed you the second you turned out to be of zero significance to the cause. Now come here you little bitch-“

“No!!”

She blindly started to run away, only to trip (obviously) and ending up back in Sionis’ grip.

“NO!!”

He was too strong and she was too scared and stiff to fight anymore. Digging heels into the ground did no harm and was definitely no hindrance in being pulled towards the ledge of the 10-stories building.

“NO!!!!”

“Y/N!!”

Both the girl and Sionis froze for a moment as another male voice cut into the screaming match.

But it was too late.

***

“Go!” Shadow was probably the only one who didn’t lose cold blood. “GO!”

***

She was falling.

And it was beautiful.

Knowing that she would finally be free of all the pain, of all the heartbreak, of the guilt coming with betraying another girl by sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. Liberated from being stuck in the memories of the past when she was actually happy, before everything went to shit.

“I love you Dick…” she whispered, finally crashing to the ground.

***

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Oh, come on, not this again!” Shadow hissed, extremely dissatisfied with the fact that everyone she encountered was far more interested in getting to know her personality, rather than fearing her killer skills.

For Black Mask it took a record time of ten minutes before calling defeat and ending up bound and being taken by the GCPD.

***

“Y/N.”

She opened one eye and much to her surprise found out that she was not a celestial body looking at her bloodied pulp of a body on the pavement.

“I love you too…” the warm embrace around her was welcomed but in time started to become a little suffocating and her battered body refused to be squeezed.

“Dickie…”

“Shh… shh, I got you.” He whispered again, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead, doing everything to assure both her and himself that it was all over and that he got her, that she was safe and he would never let it happen again. Never.

“H-How? W-what happened-? I – I thought-“

“You thought so little of me, didn’t you?”

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Fucking prick! I swear if it wasn’t for this – “ she swung her injured arm in the air “I’d slap the hell out of you!”

“I saved you!”

“I almost died and you’re making jokes!”

Oh. Right. Maybe, just maybe given the circumstances it was slightly inappropriate.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. You better.” She pouted, but he knew better, wiping the unshed tears. “It’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What happened?”

“I’m an acrobat, remember? I jumped. And damn, I wish someone had that on video because it was really one of my best – Ouch! Ouch! Ok, ok! Stop it! Point taken!”

***

“How are we doing here?”

Once Sionis was seated in the back of a police car, hands were shaken and words of gratitude exchanged Shadow walked towards Dick and Y/n.

“I think she’ll live.” Dick teased with a smirk, predictably moving a safe distance away from his -- .

Right.

Maybe there was no happy ending after all with that messed up relationship thing hanging over their heads like a freaking axe.

“Can’t say the same about Nightwing though” Y/N pushed the thought away, settling on sending him a death stare for making fun of her again.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I think you made up for whatever crime you were trying to redeem, Shadow. Thank you. I owe you. You saved my –“

“Girlfriend?” Shadow prompted, looking between Y/N and Dick, making them both blush in a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s complicated-“ they both said at the same time.

“Oh, trust me, it’s not complicated at all!” Shadow laughed

“What do you mean? You don’t know-“

“I know more than you think. Haven’t I proved that already?” Shadow turned around, making sure no one was watching and slowly took of her mask.

***

Fast forward. One week later.

Y/N was walking out of the hospital. It seemed like her arm was healing nicely and there were no complications, though her doctor was very stern while telling her she was supposed to rest and not get herself involved in any form of physical activity.

If he only knew that she was in a relationship with Gotham’s and Bludhaven vigilante.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of which, said vigilante was now honking at her from his Porsche.

“Showoff!”

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!

She laughed and jumped inside the vehicle.

“You’re supposed to hold the doors open for me!”

“Mh. Missed you too, sunshine.” He leaned over the gearbox kissing her with a cheeky grin. “How’s the hand?”

“She’ll live.”

“Quoting me already, princess? Careful, I might think you consider me a superstar or something.”

“Idiot!”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. But I’m willing to forgive you, giving the circumstances of late.”

He started the engine and took the way to the city.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?” her head fell onto the car’s headrest and she sighed heavily. “I mean – who would have thought…”

***

Flashback

“S-Sienna!?”

“Hey you two.”

“h-hey? What do you mean “hey”?! What is this?! Some sick joke?!”

In her stupor Y/N missed the fact that Dick was as shocked (if not more) as her. Hence it couldn’t have been any conspiracy against Y/N’s mental health.

“Whoa! Whoa! Relax!” Shadow Sienna raised her hands in surrender “Dick-“

“The hell?! How do you know? Damn it-!” he forgot about all the rules of safety and tore off his mask. Getting to the bottom of this shit was far more important.

“- I meant what I said. Really! About that redemption arc! Just – just listen to me!”

“Five minutes.”

“It was all a scheme-“

“Well let me tell you, your explanation is starting off the wrong foot” Dick groaned, pulling Y/N to his side to strengthen her mentally.

“I am Black Mask’s niece in the second line!” Sienna explained dramatically “wait-! Wait-! I have no loyalty to him! Not anymore!”

“One minute left.” Dick hissed

“It was all a plan. He had some vague idea about the ties between the one Dick Grayson and Batman and Y/N and wanted to use all of you against each other.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Yes, fine! I was his spy for a moment, but then you two-. God! You love each other! And I just couldn’t- I couldn’t-“

Y/N wriggled out of Dick’s embrace and walked to Sienna, grabbing both her hands in her healthy one.

“Thank you.”

End of flashback

***

“I really hope you took your golden visa with you, cause I am about to go crazy with this shopping spree.”

“Hey. No limits on Bruce’s cards. He won’t even notice the loss of a couple thousands and I got my girl back, so-“

“I think we should send-“

“I already took care of that.”

After all the trouble and drama they got their happy ending.

***

In another part of town a certain girl found a fruit and sweet basket on her doorstep. With a little, but meaningful card.

It seemed like she found her happy ending too.

One in which she was no longer used by anyone and treated as a villain.

With the view for a future of freedom.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p @madness1999sworld

@leovergurl

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson angst #nightwing angst

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theblue6ook · 4 months ago

Text

"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

#batfam #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batmom #bruce wayne #batboys x reader #slow burn

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eelnoise · 1 year ago

Note

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.

#zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro fluff #op fluff #x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader

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shiningstarwrites · 2 months ago

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Iron Knuckles, Fragile Heart (Part 2)

The alleys of Zaun always smelled of oil and decay, but tonight, there was something else in the air—a tension, a quiet dread that seeped into your bones. You shouldn’t have been here. Not this late. Not alone. But what choice did you have?

Vi had left, and with her absence came the familiar hollowness in your chest. You thought you could drown it out, bury yourself in work, in distractions, but it had only gotten worse. When the message came—a cryptic note warning of something brewing in the darker corners of Zaun—you couldn’t ignore it.

The warehouse was cold and damp, the flickering light above casting jagged shadows on the walls. You clutched the knife in your hand tighter, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you stepped further inside.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

The voice startled you. It was low, rough, and laced with menace. A figure stepped out of the shadows, their face obscured by a mask. You recognized the symbol on their chest—a remnant of Silco’s followers.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” you said, voice steady despite the fear coursing through you.

The figure chuckled darkly. “You found it anyway.”

The fight was fast and brutal. You weren’t unskilled, but they were stronger, faster, and ruthless. The knife was knocked from your grasp, and you barely dodged the next blow, your shoulder slamming against the wall. Pain flared through you, but you pushed it aside.

You couldn’t die here. Not like this.

But as the second figure emerged from the shadows, you knew you were outmatched.

Somewhere in Piltover, Vi was finishing her rounds when the call came through. A disturbance in Zaun. A fight. She dismissed it at first—there was always a fight in Zaun—but then the details came. A description.

Your description.

Her heart stopped.

By the time she arrived, the warehouse was eerily quiet. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and the sight before her made her stomach drop.

You were on the ground, barely conscious, blood pooling beneath you.

“No.”

Vi’s voice cracked as she rushed to your side, falling to her knees. Her hands hovered over you, trembling, as if touching you might make it worse.

“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here now.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of her voice, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “Vi… You came.”

“Of course I did,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m not letting you go, alright? Just hang on. Help’s coming.”

You reached up, your blood-streaked hand brushing against her cheek. She caught it, pressing it to her face as tears streamed down.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to… leave like this.”

“Don’t you dare talk like that,” Vi snapped, though the desperation in her tone betrayed her fear. “You’re not leaving me. Not now. Not ever.”

Your eyes softened, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I waited, Vi. I always waited. But… I guess I couldn’t wait forever.”

Her breath hitched, a sob escaping her lips. “No, no, don’t do this. Don’t say goodbye. You’re stronger than this. You always were.”

You smiled weakly, your hand slipping from her grasp. “You’ll be okay… You always are.”

When your body went limp, Vi froze.

“No. No, no, no!”

She shook you gently, her voice rising in panic. “Wake up! You can’t leave me! Not like this!”

Her fists clenched, blood from your wounds smearing her knuckles as she cradled your lifeless body. The fire in her heart, the fire that had always kept her going, flickered dangerously low.

She screamed into the empty warehouse, the sound raw and broken, echoing off the walls.

The world moved on, as it always did. Piltover kept its shine, and Zaun continued its descent into darkness. But Vi… she was a shadow of herself.

Every punch she threw, every criminal she stopped, felt hollow. The badge weighed heavier than ever. She wore it like a chain, a reminder of everything she had lost.

Her nights were the worst, haunted by the memory of your touch, your voice, your smile. She could still feel the warmth of your hand against her cheek, still hear your whispered apology.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forgive herself.

She never would.

#vi x you #vi x reader #vi arcane #league of legends #jinx arcane

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la-petite-lapin · 9 months ago

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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 :)

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

Note

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!

#eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #luvrxsmut #luvrxfics

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sinon36 · 10 months ago

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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.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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sreabhadh · 10 days ago

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I still don't know how Tumblr works. I am still infected with severe strains of the TexAid, Vortex, Combaticons and MechAu diseases though. I have completed part 2/3 of what I've been calling Vortex's death story and am going to attempt to post it with a link to the part 1. Don't know how this works or how it'll go, but eh we'll give it a shot lol.

This is just my take on Vortex's death story, based on Keferon's Mech Au, art, and writing, along with the art and writing of many others that have hopped into this Au and produced some wonderful and inspiring things that have latched onto my brain with a death grip.

If this story interests you, then I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Part 1, if that works 🤞 ☝️⬆️👆

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Vortex’s head pounded sluggishly. He fought for control over his eyelids, willing them to open. When they did, they immediately closed, and he squinted them back open in the painful light. It was hard to make out his surroundings- his eyes were open now but his head was still spinning. He was upright, and he could feel his weight sagging against heavy restraints. Could hear the beeping of monitors and feel IV needles poking through his skin, fluids pumping through his veins, could feel the medical tape on his skin. Another fucking experiment. Or was someone patching him up after a battle? Vortex growled, trying to remember what had happened before he had fallen asleep. There had been a fight. Something bad. Something that made him angry. Then something that had made him happy. He killed someone. Why had he killed someone?

They deserved it, he knew that, but why- the image of Swindle bleeding out flashed in Vortex’s head, Swindle, dangling lifelessly from Brawl’s massive (and massively burned) arms as he barreled through halls, trampling anyone and anything else in his way. Brawl in hysterics. Med techs struggling to sedate Brawl, Brawl raging at them. Swindle’s skin getting paler as the white medical linens on the cot became a darker and darker shade of red. Onslaught and Blast Off trying to calm Brawl down. Swindle in critical condition, hooked up to a dozen machines. They didn’t know it then, but they had been supposed to die. Swindle in particular.

‘Thin the herd. The small one’s the fastest, but he’s also the weakest. Worst fighter among em. The weak link.’

Vortex snarled. They had deserved it, but they deserved so much worse than he had given them, so much worse. They had tried taking Swindle from them. And it might’ve worked. If Swindle didn’t wake up then it would’ve worked. They almost took the others too. Brawl had been so severely burned he’d had to be sedated to heal. Blastoff and Onslaught weren’t in great condition either- they weren’t as fast as Vortex, who had an easier time dodging, and had taken a lot of hits.

The bastards…the bastards who had done it… decided to hook up that weird machine to Swindle’s mech without telling them what it did or that it would make him quint bait… Tex only had memories of killing a couple of the white coats, and one of them had already been dead before he did most of the stabbing. He could remember the feel of the blood on his hands, the sounds of the blade and the other lab coats screaming…he hadn’t been able to kill them all. Or most of them, unless he was just forgetting those killings. Fuck. He might not- probably wouldn’t (but wanted to hope he might)- have another chance to kill them all. Fix his mistake. He should’ve snapped and killed them all ages ago. Cut to the chase and spare his team the misery. Shit. He’d been hoping if he killed enough of them it would leave a big enough power vacuum for Onslaught to take over. Now what would happen? Would Onslaught be blamed? Why hadn’t he been able to kill more of them? What happened?

Vortex tried his usual tricks for slipping out of medical restraints, but these ones were different, sturdier, and the usual tricks didn’t work. If he had gotten caught, why was he alive? His stomach hardened, like someone had filled it with rocks. Were they using him to keep the rest of his squad in line? If they were, that might mean Swindle was doing better. Or they just wanted extra insurance. Or an extra lab rat. If they thought they could keep him trapped here forever to run their sick experiments on though, they were going to have a surprise on their hands. It didn’t matter if he was half-drugged, half-dead or both, he would get out and figure out who had done this to him. Then he’d repay their ‘kindness’ with his own. Maybe he could even finish his killing spree from earlier- there were a lot of people left on his list.

Vortex spun his head around, grunting at the painful vertigo that accompanied the motion. He was in a lab, but not like any of the medical labs he’d been in. The equipment in here was far more complicated than anything Vortex recognized, and the other items were more macabre than he was used to seeing openly displayed in mecha labs. He hadn’t even known jars came in sizes large enough to hold body parts that big. He just hoped they were all quint parts, not human. Not for any love or concern for his fellow species- it was just that Tex’s unit wasn’t particularly on good terms with the higher ups, or anyone else in the facility. And Vortex had always assumed that if he didn’t die on the battlefield or trying to kill everyone, then that’s where he would end up. Cut up in pieces, preserved in jars for future study.

Besides the jars, there were vials with eerie glowing liquids, a faint foul smell, diagrams on the counters, blueprints pinned to the wall- shit, those were prints of Vortex’s mech. What were blueprints of that doing here? What did they want him for, what were they trying to do? And who were they? The guards would’ve shot Tex on sight after what he did, and anyone he assaulted would’ve done the same, assuming they had any amount of skill with a gun. Who-

Vortex spotted it. A mask, helmet-thing, made to cover the entire head. A singular yellow optic dominating the center of the face.

One eye. Shockwave.

The beeping of the monitor increased sharply, and Vortex felt the sweat as it suddenly gathered on his brow. He shuddered involuntarily, body going hot and cold. Vortex remembered what happened before he had been knocked out. Shockwave. He remembered. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no

Vortex struggled against his bonds with renewed effort, he didn’t care what he broke in the process. He could get help later, relocate any joints he popped out of place, set any broken bones, stitch up or bandage any cuts, he didn’t care how much it hurt or how long it took to heal, he had to move, get out, now-

Somewhere behind him, someone cleared their throat. Vortex froze. Please, please, please, don’t let it be him. Please, anyone, but-

“Vortex.”

Vortex bit his lip. There was no way it was anyone but Shockwave, wasn’t it?

“If you move around too much I will have to sedate you immediately. The procedure isn’t complete yet.”

Vortex swallowed. What he wouldn’t do for a few dozen cigs and a room to himself right now. “What procedure?” he asked, hoping he sounded more angry than frightened.

The voice ignored him, and Vortex could hear shuffling notes and typing as the scientist worked.

“What procedure?” he repeated, voice hoarse with dehydration, anger and fear.

The typing stopped. The man released a small breath; impatient. Vortex could hear the chair as its occupant moved to stand, could feel the vibrations through the floor as they walked toward him.

Vortex felt his breathing still and gritted his teeth as the man stepped into view. He was a man, in appearance - but Vortex could hear the quiet fizzing sound and see the slightly blurry quality to the skin. He was wearing another hologram. He was wearing the face of Shockwave, the old one from the earliest days of the mecha program, when Shockwave himself had been a pilot. He had a handsome face, quite different from the polished mess of impervious robotics Vortex knew must be hiding underneath. It was little wonder the man had so many masks. He looked so different like this, so normal, Vortex could almost believe he was there just to give him a check up.

Along with context and common sense, the set to the former pilot’s former face and the look in his eyes told Vortex there was nothing so casual or carefree about this visit. This situation. Vortex was slagged. Well and truly fucked. He’d be lucky to get out of this alive. Then again, he might be luckier to get out of it dead, depending on what Shockwave had planned for him.

Questions rolled around in Vortex’s head, spinning and colliding with each other as he fought his body’s urge to shake like a leaf in the wind. Shockwave regarded him, eyes cold. Vortex shivered. Under that gaze he felt like a misbehaving piece of equipment, about to be dissected, deconstructed, and pinned to the wall. Pieces either discarded or replaced entirely, shoved back together until he did exactly what he was supposed to, nothing left except what they wanted. What Shockwave wanted.

“It’s not important for you to know. I could explain it all to you, but it wouldn’t matter, even if you understood.” Shockwave cocked his head. “You’re not going to remember this, you see. It could get messy if you did, afterall, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible.”

Vortex was silent for far longer than he wanted to, struggling to get his mouth to open and his voice to work. “Won’t remember what?” he managed.

“This part of the procedure. As well as the first few days before it.” Shockwave shrugged nonchalantly, and a tiny part of Vortex’s brain recognized that most would see the simple gesture as extremely attractive done with Shockwave’s appearance and aloof mannerism. Mostly Vortex recognized how little Shockwave cared about Vortex’s plight, his life or his concerns.

“Take too much off and you might not work the same, but take too little and you’ll simply go back to killing people. I’ve calculated how much I need, and once I’m done with this and the rest of the prepwork, you’ll be ready for the final doses. It’s a long shot that any of this works, but that’s what tests like this are for. If it works on you I can study this method until I’ve perfected it. If it doesn’t…well I have other hypotheses to test.”

“What are you doing to me?”

Shockwave smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes- and not just because they were holograms or something.

“I’m resurrecting you.”

Vortex forgot how to breathe for several excruciating heartbeats.

“This is the first time I’m attempting it, so there’s no guarantee it will work, but all science starts somewhere.”

“If it comforts you, I will give you a favorable death- a heroically tragic last stand fighting insurmountable odds. You’ll go out in a blaze of glory- though, perhaps, having seen footage of your fights, I should say you’ll go out in a blaze of gore instead.”

Vortex felt his throat muscles working, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth. His questions had been spooked into hiding, his defiance shocked into submission. His body quivered, and Vortex cursed his lack of control over his own limbs.

“You’re quite resilient, even for a pilot. I dare say you’re the best candidate for this experiment- you’re arguably the best fighter we currently have, and your bond with your mech…”

Shockwave shook his head vaguely. “I frankly haven’t seen anyone as in touch with their mech as you are since..." Shockwave's eyes grew distant, a shade colder, and mournful, the edges of his lips twitching into a fondly bittersweet smile.

"It’s really quite impressive.”

Shockwave's eyes refocused, and he smiled pleasantly at Vortex. This time the expression touched his eyes as well- the sight made Vortex’s stomach twist painfully.

“You should consider this an honor. If this project works, you may even thank me. It’s not everyday one gets resurrected as living metal, after all. It’s almost statistically impossible.”

Living metal? Living…metal? Did this have something to do with the blueprints of his mech on the wall? He hoped not. What would be left of him, assuming this ‘experiment’ worked in the first place? Would he survive? If it didn’t work and he died, he died. If it did work, what would happen then? What would Shockwave do, what would Vortex become? Would his teammates- his brothers- even recognize him? Would he even see them again? He’d gone into this assuming he would probably die… did the others have any idea where he was, what had happened? No, they would’ve burned the base down looking for him. How long had it been? A few hours, a day, several? Were they okay? Did Onslaught have things handled, had Swindle recovered yet?

He needed to know. And the best source of information, until he got out, was Shockwave.Vortex summoned his anger to overpower his fear. So what if he was the phantom Vortex had been having nightmares of since he was a kid? He was just another person, which meant he had to have a weak point somewhere. He just needed to stay alive long enough to locate it. Then he could gut him like anyone else and return to his team. The thought was comforting, though it was more false bravado than Tex would care to admit.

“What about my unit? What’s happened to them? You must have a lot of guts if you think you can stop them.”

The scientist tilted his head curiously. “They have their uses, and are an exemplary fighting unit. However, be that as it may, I’m afraid your little ‘combaticons’ aren’t ever going to be the same.”

Vortex snorted, letting the false bravado take over, baring his teeth like a cornered rat. “And the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Shockwave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The fingers made contact with his nose- not clipping through, fizzing, or blurring like Tex had expected them too. Wait. Was that his real face? He had been certain it wasn’t. He looked too normal. How did that work?

Shockwave pulled a stool from beside the counter, and sat down, regarding him with strained patience. He raised a finger.

“As you know, your leader, unit 10, ‘Onslaught,’ along with unit 12, was on track to graduate the pilot program and was soon to join the table with mecha’s elite. That was before you went rogue.” Shockwave paused, giving Vortex an appraising look, as if checking to make sure he really was smart enough to know that much.

Vortex grunted. Shockwave gave him a disapproving look, but continued speaking. “They still are, for now, but whether they make it or not is up to them. If he goes rogue like you did, we will have to scrap him as well, though I’d rather not do that- he’s exactly what I’ve been looking for to get mecha turned back around. Too many in the company have grown lax- plump with riches and lazy in their authority. It’s what allowed you to pull that stunt you did, and it’s wasting resources. I believe with Onslaught- and ‘Swindle,’ mecha’s performance would increase substantially.”

“Which gives me more time for this.” Shockwave made a broad gesture to the lab. The scientist’s eyes narrowed piercingly. “And that is something I happen to value greatly.”

“The other two- 13 and 14- I have no personal issue with- they do form a liability however.”

“If you hurt either of them, Onslaught will never help you,” Vortex spat. Onslaught always protected them. Kept them going, kept them safe. Except… Vortex was here, hooked up, chained down, and at the lead scientist’s mercy. And Onslaught wasn’t here. Swindle had nearly died. Brawl had been sedated, Blast Off and Onslaught were full of stitches. Vortex was here. They’d all been hurt, and Onslaught hadn’t stopped it. Hadn’t been able to. They’d been hurt again, but the base was still standing. Where was Onslaught’s rage? Didn’t he see mecha needed to burn for their lives to change? Where was he?

“Hm. Perhaps. I have more control than you realize… but I understand your point. No, I don’t intend to harm them. There will be those who would wish to eliminate them, along with the rest of your crew, but they are veterans. Their experience is valuable, and your sins will have removed competitors from the board. That is favorable to certain members of mecha. Your unit members won’t be without a measure of support. That will allow them to continue serving in mecha as pilots, which is mercy enough after what you’ve done. Not that anyone will know that.”

“Know what?”

“What you’ve done, of course.”

Vortex scoffed, offended. “I murdered multiple head mecha top dogs. They’re dead. With a roomful of witnesses you didn’t let me vaporize. You’re dumber than Brawl if you really think you can hide something like that.”

“Murdered? You must be mistaken. They were each given a leave of absence. It’s not mecha’s responsibility if they were met with misfortune after the fact.”

Vortex’s jaw dropped a millimeter. Shockwave said that so easily and smoothly, like he was discussing the weather or what he wanted to have for lunch. When Vortex killed things, he was as messy as he could be- it was more fun that way. But at least he felt something when he was violent- even if that feeling was bloodlust. Shockwave clearly didn’t feel anything. They were just obstacles in his way, like a piece of shrapnel keeping a wound from closing. Removed, disposed of, and never given a second thought. Vortex swallowed. The rumors of Shockwave and how dangerous he was hadn’t been exaggerations. If anything, they probably didn’t do him justice.

“And the lab coats who saw me do it?”

“Gas leak. Caused by the ineptitude and negligence of the executives we unfortunately had to let go. The poisoning from the gas caused dizzy spells, short-term memory issues, and some minor hallucinations. Truly an unfortunate accident, but those responsible have been punished, and those affected have been repaid.”

Shockwave’s face was a mask of feigned concern, which Vortex found revolting. Sick two-faced bastard. He’d even covered up Vortex’s murder spree. Vortex wasn’t particularly proud of said murder spree, seeing as he hadn’t actually killed enough people to call it a spree, and it had been over way too soon, but still. He still would’ve gone down in history and in hallway gossip as the mad pilot that snapped and killed a bunch of people. Rumors spread and carried weight, even when they weren’t true. Now, it was, what? Swept under the rug and sanitized like it had never happened? Like he hadn’t done that, and it didn’t matter one way or another.

“And what about me?”

“You were never there. You were preparing for a solo mission while the rest of your team healed from their injuries.”

“My team will notice.”

“Your team is busy licking their wounds. When they wake it’ll be too late. You’ll be dead.”

Vortex flinched like he’d been struck. “You said I’d be resurrected.”

“If it works. You’ll have to die first, but if you survive, that will mean it worked, and I can continue the experiment.”

“You-”

“You will be dead to them either way,” Shockwave interjected coldly before Vortex could spout the string of curses in his head. “Speaking of which-” Shockwave rose slowly. “You have delayed me enough. It is time.”

Shockwave came closer- though not close enough to bite- and adjusted some dials on the machines Vortex was hooked into. Vortex could feel the sleeping drug or whatever it was entering his system. “Sleep now, and cease distracting me with your pointless questions. When you wake you won’t remember this happened, and when you die you’ll be a hero. Try not to fail. If the experiment fails, I may have to try again on one of your other units, and I would like to keep their services for now.”

Vortex tried to cuss, but whatever was pumping in his veins was working real damn fast. His tongue felt like lead and his eyelids began to droop. His head hung down, too heavy to keep up, his limbs began to go limp, and as his senses faded into the ether, he heard two words, cold and soft, like a breath of frigid winter air right down his back.

“Goodbye, 11.”

**********************************************************

Hopefully it won't be too long until part 3 is out (and I figure out how Tumblr works and have them all neatly linked together) but 🤷‍♀️ We'll see lol.

#mech au #keferon #vortex #shockwave #jenga writing #transformers

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 years ago

Text

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.

#You’re welcome #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #heroxvillain #hero x villain #request #3K

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