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cherienymphe · 1 year

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Basic Training IV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, mentions of forced pregnancy, mentions of forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Jane was the one to greet you this time.

“You’ve been eating!”

She looked happy at that, smiling at you as she came to take the empty plate. You didn’t return it, mind wandering to Peter. He’d left days ago, and as thankful as you were for the solitude, you couldn’t help but worry. Once you’d started actually eating, it was like you couldn’t stop. Your body started craving food again, and it was then that you worried you might’ve been…tricked.

Peter said he was going to check on your mom, but how could you know that was true? After all, he was the reason you were even here, and he hadn’t done a single thing to show that you could trust him. In fact, all he’d shown you was the complete opposite. Everything that had happened showed you that you shouldn��t trust him…ever.

“Steve will be happy,” she continued, moving to unlock the bathroom. “You have a big day ahead of you, so you’ll want to scrub good.”

You frowned at that, following her into the bathroom.

“What do you mean?”

Were you leaving this room?

“You’ll be leaving this room today,” she answered your silent question. “You’ll be helping out in the garden with me and Sharon.”

Another woman, another name.

You repeated it to yourself, trying to keep count, and including yourself, that was five women. Which meant five men…at least, but then you thought about the day Peter had shown you Margaret, and there were men there you hadn’t even seen, so there was definitely more than five. The thought overwhelmed you, and you struggled to swallow.

Jane told you about what you’d be doing as you bathed, and when you were done, she had a dress laid out for you on the counter. You eyed it, hesitantly putting it on, confusion flowing through you. When you looked at Jane, it was the first time you noticed she was wearing a dress too. That’s all she’d been wearing, you realized, and so you didn’t question it.

Jane took your arm as she unlocked the door, and it hit you then that you were finally leaving this room. The thought had you shaking, and Jane rubbed your hand in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture. As you glanced over your shoulder at the bedroom, she closed it, speaking.

“Normally, you’ll make sure the bed is made when you first wake up…”

Your eyes met hers as she continued.

“…then you’ll come downstairs and get started on breakfast, but seeing as it’s your first day, and you’re still adjusting, things will be a little different.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at her words, wracking your brain at all of this. You didn’t understand anything, and you looked around as she guided you down the hall. It didn’t take long to realize the house was large, and if you had to guess, this was more of a wing than a simple hallway. The thought was overwhelming, and again, you thought about what an escape attempt would even look like in a place like this.

Jane was talking to you as you walked down the stairs, your eyes roaming over pictures that lined the wall. Some were faces you recognized, like Steve and Margaret with a baby in her arms, and some you didn’t recognize, like a brunette man and woman with strawberry blonde hair. Still, it was all pictures of seemingly happy couples posing for the camera, and considering the reality behind the pictures, the sight made your stomach churn.

“We’re going to get you something in your stomach first, and then we’ll go to the greenhouse.”

She was leading you to what you assumed was the kitchen.

“I would’ve brought you food in bed, but…”

She trailed off, looking…worried.

“Steve feels like you’ve been adjusting long enough, and he wants to see you contributing right away, so…”

Steve.

He was clearly the mastermind behind whatever this was, and it only made you more wary of him. You looked around again, taking in the house, and you were surprised at how…nice it was. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you were expecting some rundown house in the backwoods of this town. Considering how nice the room you’d been staying in was, you didn’t know why it didn’t occur to you that the house would be even more impressive.

The amount of money that went into this place hinted at the amount of money they had…and that terrified you.

The kitchen wasn’t empty when Jane guided you to it, and you blinked at the sight of two women, one of them familiar. You tried not to stare at Margaret, but it was hard. The first time you’d seen her, she’d been naked and was being brutally raped by her so called husband. You swallowed as her eyes met yours, a warm smile on her lips.

“This must be Y/N,” she said, and you were surprised by how…calm she sounded. “We’ve been dying to meet you.”

She pulled you into a hug before you could react, and you didn’t exactly hug her back, but she didn’t seem to care. The other woman in the room barely acknowledged you outside of a tight smile, more preoccupied with whatever she was cooking.

“I’m Margaret, but sometimes I’m referred to as Peggy,” she continued, and you nodded.

She glanced at the other woman, and seeming to get the hint, she turned to face you. You noted how pretty she was, but it was a cold kind of beautiful, the kind that made her seem equally terrifying. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders in pretty curls, and her green gaze was unwavering.

“Natasha,” she introduced herself.

You realized that this was Nat…Bucky’s wife. The same woman who had been down in that basement for almost four months, and you looked at her with a gaze that bordered along awe. You hadn’t even lasted a week, and you found yourself feeling incredibly…inferior at the moment.

“Y/N and I are going to be helping Sharon in the garden,” Jane told them as she started to fix you a plate of food. “Something small to get her into the swing of things until Peter comes back.”

Natasha snorted at that, but otherwise said nothing, and you curiously eyed her.

“He’s just off taking care of something for Steve, but he’ll be back in no time,” she told you, turning to you with a smile.

You wondered if that was what Peter told Steve, or if that was simply the message Steve conveyed. Again, you found yourself wondering who Peter was lying to. You or them? You gave her a tight smile in return, and she urged you to go in the hall, promising that she’d be right out. You hesitated at first, but eventually did, and you slowed when her hushed voice carried.

“We’re meant to be welcoming, Nat,” Jane told her.

“Welcoming,” the redhead scoffed. “Right.”

There was a brief silence before she continued.

“Steve wants her out and helping out because he likes being in control, but she’s not okay,” you heard her say. “She’s not ready.”

You heard her roughly put something into the oven just as Margaret spoke.

“Keep your voice down,” she quietly told her.

“He’s not here.”

“…but Tony and Stephen are,” Jane said. “Thor too. If Steve thinks she’s ready then she’s ready, and that’s that.”

Jane joined you moments later, a soft smile on her lips.

You didn’t mention the conversation you’d heard, and neither did she. After eating, Jane took you through the house, giving a brief tour along the way, and you were finding it hard to remember the layout. When Jane guided you through a side door, you were surprised to find it attached to what was obviously the greenhouse. You remembered seeing a few gardens in the backyard, and you frowned.

As if reading your mind, Jane spoke.

“You’ll be outside helping in the other gardens one day, but, for now…”

She didn’t need to finish the thought. They were afraid you’d make a run for it, and honestly, if you were outside, right now, you probably would. The thought of getting caught and thrown back down into the basement made you shudder though, and you winced.

“I know this is a lot,” she finally said after some time, looking at you with an honest expression for the first time since you woke up. “…but you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t know why, but those words made your eyes water, and you looked away.

“Hey, hey,” she softly shushed, reaching for you. “It’s going to be okay.”

You shook your head, the tears spilling over, and Jane tried to quiet you.

Your chest grew tight, and the greenhouse felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls were closing in. The idea that you would get used to this, that this nightmare wouldn’t even be that one day but instead something you saw as your normal life, it was too much. You thought about that picture of Margaret and Steve and their baby, and you wanted to be sick.

Jane was calling your name.

“Y/N, look at me,” she softly demanded. “You have to stop crying. You have to-.”

“What’s going on?”

You jumped at the new voice, and you froze, pressing your hand to your mouth just as Jane looked up. The fear in her eyes waned some, and you didn’t miss the way her entire demeanor softened. She swallowed, briefly glancing at you and rubbing your shoulder before lifting her gaze again.

“She’s still adjusting, Thor,” she slowly told him, gaze almost pleading. “She-she just needs a moment.”

She turned you around so you both were facing him, and she wrapped her arm around you, holding you close.

“Right?” she asked you.

You looked at her before looking at…Thor.

He was huge, and it wasn’t in an insulting way, but more so an observation about his build in comparison to Jane’s. His blond hair brushed his shoulder, and it was partially pulled back out of his face. He didn’t look real, blue eyes standing out so much, and you pressed your lips together as he eyed you. You didn’t know how to take him, but considering he was here with the rest and doing what everyone else was, you decided not to trust him.

You remembered that Jane had asked you a question, and you nodded.

“Use your words,” she whispered, squeezing your arm.

“Yes,” you quickly said. “I just got overwhelmed.”

Thor didn’t respond right away, and you were terrified of what he might do or say. It wasn’t lost on you though that Jane didn’t seem as scared as you. She was very much relaxed against you, and when Thor leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, you surmised that this was her husband.

“It’s a lot, young Y/N, but with my beautiful Jane here, you’ll catch onto the flow of things quickly.”

You didn’t miss the way Jane smiled at him, and it left a bad taste in your mouth. When he looked at you, you froze under the weight of his gaze. His demeanor was friendly, and you definitely weren’t as nervous around him as you were with Steve, but outside of the obvious, there was something about him that unnerved you.

He tapped Jane’s chin before turning away, and it was only then did she exhale. She rubbed your arm again, assuring you that you were okay, before turning you back towards the plants.

You’d been helping out around the house for two days when Peter finally came back.

You didn’t know he was back, of course, in the kitchen with some of the other women and getting breakfast started. You were with Sharon, Natasha, and Pepper. You’d met Sharon in the greenhouse the other day, the blonde woman welcoming you with a small smile. You didn’t know how to take her, and she seemed to think the same of you.

Pepper seemed stern, like Natasha, but kinder. You’d messed up quite a few times over the morning, and as annoying as you knew it had to be, she hadn’t said a single negative word. It took you longer than you wanted to admit that you recognized her from the pictures on the wall, cuddled up next to a brunette man with a goatee. You eyed her strawberry blonde hair.

“Here,” she told you, handing you some cut potatoes. “Toss these into the pan.”

It wasn’t lost on you that they were giving you tasks that didn’t require some sort of sharp object, and it was almost flattering to think they thought you had that in you. You weren’t so sure. Sharon was chopping some more as you did as Pepper instructed, and it wasn’t long after that that you heard her exclaim. You looked over as she hissed, and you stilled at the sight of the blood on the counter.

The blonde was holding her hand under the sink with Natasha’s help, and you faintly recognized that Pepper was saying something to you.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the blood, gaze roaming over it as crawled along the surface…the same way it had crawled away from Pietro’s body. You shakily reached out, grasping the counter, and you couldn’t make out anything in the room. All you could see was Pietro’s limp body sprawled along the pavement, and you sharply inhaled.

You blinked, eyes stinging, and you felt a hand on your arm.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head, but instead of darkness, you saw Wanda collapsing after Bucky had shot her. You saw how easily and quickly she’d died, and it was like you weren’t even in the kitchen anymore. You were running through the trees with MJ, her hand tightly clasped with yours…until it wasn’t.

Someone was calling your name, and you didn’t register why your knees were hurting until you opened your eyes to see that you were on the floor. You tried to stand, but you couldn’t, collapsing every time, and it took you way too long to realize what that loud wailing noise was.

It was you.

Your chest was hurting so much, and Pepper and Natasha were trying to shush you, but you couldn’t stop. Your vision was blurry from your tears, and you held your head in your hands. You were shaking so bad, and you slid down to the floor, forehead grazing the tile, and Pepper’s voice was in your ear.

“Y/N, you have to calm down,” she shakily told you. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you.”

“She needs to be quiet,” you heard Natasha say, her own voice sounding off. “…before…”

“What’s going on in here?”

You recognized that voice, and it only made you cry harder. None of them answered right away, too stumped by Steve’s presence, and the only sound for a few moments was that of your sobbing.

“She… We don’t know,” Pepper finally said, her hand on your back. “Sharon cut herself, and then she just… It triggered something, I guess.”

You could hear his heavy footsteps nearing you, and he sternly told Pepper to move. She did, and when Steve’s hand made contact with your arm, you screamed. You hadn’t meant to, the sharp sound escaping before you could stop yourself. You pushed yourself away from him, but with nowhere to go, you only pushed yourself against the cabinet. Your nails dug into Steve’s arms as he tried to grab you, and you were crying so hard you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Maybe you should get Peter,” you heard Natasha hesitantly suggest. “He just got back, didn’t he?”

You could only assume Steve took her suggestion because you didn’t feel him anymore. You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to quiet yourself, but you couldn’t stop. You kept seeing their bodies over and over again, MJ’s face as she pushed you away. The blood on your hands…

You felt yourself tilting again, about to sink back down to the floor, when someone stopped you.

Hands were on your face, wiping your tears away, and a familiar voice was shushing you. Peter’s lips brushed your ear as he leaned in, and one of his hands slid to the back of your neck. He softly said your name, once, then twice, before telling you that you were okay. When he pulled away, he wiped your face again, and you peeled your eyes open.

Your gaze met his, and Peter tilted his head at you.

“You’re okay,” he gently told you, a small smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re dead,” you choked out. “They’re dead-they’re gone!”

“I know,” Peter said, pulling you against him. “I know.”

You could feel his hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing circles into your back. He shushed you, standing and forcing you to stand with him. He held your face in the crook of his neck, and you could faintly hear Steve’s voice as he said something. Peter said something back, but you couldn’t make it out.

You tripped over your own feet as he kept you against him, guiding you out of the kitchen. You almost collapsed again going up the stairs, but Peter kept you from falling. His fingers dug into your waist, and the other hand wrapped around your arm. You were too consumed by the memory of your friends’ murders to care about the close proximity, legs trembling and heart racing.

When he finally got you inside of your room, he didn’t stop you this time when you sank to the floor. Your forehead was pressed to your knees as you brought them up, and you wrapped your arms around your legs. You cried so much your head was starting to ache, and it was only when your sobs died down into soft sniffles did Peter speak again.

“I have something for you…something I think you’ll want to see…”

You slowly looked up at his words, remembering why he’d left to begin with. Peter was standing over the bed, reaching into a duffle bag, and you watched him pull out some pictures. Your lips parted as he neared you, and he knelt before you, handing you the pictures. With one look at them, your eyes watered again, but for an entirely different reason.

It was pictures of your mom checking her mailbox. She had a phone pressed to her ear, and you couldn’t stop flipping through them. You felt Peter wipe your face again as you did, your hands shaky, and more tears spilled over as you studied her face.

“She looks so sad,” you tearfully mumbled. “So worried.”

It was true. You could see it on her face, in her eyes, and it made your heart clench. You couldn’t imagine what she was going through, and you started crying again. It was interesting, because by anyone’s standards, you were in a far worse situation, but all you could think about was what it was doing to your mom.

Peter sat with you as you repeatedly flipped through the pictures, and you wiped your face.

“I’m never leaving…am I?” you asked after some time.

The words came out choppy, shaky, and you looked at him. You held his gaze as Peter reached out to brush away a stray tear, and he moved closer.

“No, pretty girl,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No.”

The pictures fell into your lap, and you dropped your face into our hands. Peter let you cry, and you didn’t know how to feel. You hated him, and how could you not? He was the reason you were even here. He’d wanted you, and so he took you, but then you’d think about Steve and how he punished Margaret, and just how mean he was…and you found yourself wanting to be grateful to be stuck with Peter.

…but you didn’t want to be stuck here, at all.

You felt Peter take the pictures, and you lifted your gaze.

“I didn’t tell Steve what I was really doing…”

You frowned at that, and you realized that Peter had lied to him. Not you.

“So…” he reached out, gently taking your chin as he held your gaze. “This will be our little secret, right?”

You faltered at that, frown deepening.

“If Steve finds out, I won’t be able to go and see her again.”

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered.

It was just as painful as it was exciting to see her and see how she was doing. You weren’t there, and you never would be again, and the thought made you so sad. It felt like you were just torturing yourself, and you shook your head.

“I can’t…” you trailed off, more tears spilling over. “She has no idea if I’m even alive, and I can’t see that.”

Your head drooped.

“I can’t watch her mourn me.”

Especially when you weren’t even dead, and that only made you think about MJ’s parents, Pietro and Wanda’s. They were in the same boat, you assumed, only their children were dead. You wondered what they did with their bodies, wondered if they at least let them be found so they could be buried or if they just… You looked away, more tears spilling over, and Peter pulled you against him when you started shaking.

You could feel your chest tightening again, and Peter pressed his face into your hair.

Sleep was hard to find.

You were on the floor again now that Peter was back, slipping out of the bed the second his breathing grew light. You’d been staring up at the ceiling for hours, thinking about your mom and your friends. It was too painful, but you couldn’t stop, replaying the memories in your head and thinking about how much your mom had seemed to age in such a short time.

It made you want to cry again, and you pushed back the tears, sitting up.

You felt almost…pitiful. All you’d done was cry and mope and lose your mind at the sight of blood. You thought about Natasha, finally putting a face to the name of the woman who’d lasted almost four months down in that basement, and you hadn’t even lasted a week.

You peered over the bed, looking at Peter as he slept.

Yes, he’d done a nice thing, and no, he wasn’t Steve, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Peter could let you go, and he wouldn’t, because no matter how he may have felt about Steve’s methods, he wanted you here. You were here because he wanted you here, and you slowly stood. You knew the door would be locked, but you tried anyway, and you weren’t proven wrong.

You tried to think of where Peter kept the key, and you bit your lip.

Searching for it without turning on a light was nearly impossible. You didn’t think Peter would be stupid enough to just leave it in either of the nightstand drawers, but you were shocked to find them locked anyway. A few tears escaped, and you pressed your lips together. The closet door was always locked at night too, and you pressed your hands to your eyes, swallowing down a sob.

You were just about to try the door again when Peter’s voice startled you.

“What are you looking for?”

You jumped, hand tightening on the knob as you pressed yourself closer to the door. You didn’t say anything, and light soon flooded the room as Peter turned on the lamp. You kept your gaze on the wood, afraid to look at him, and you shuddered when you heard him push himself to his feet. You pressed our forehead against the door, and you flinched when Peter touched your arm.

“Do you want to be sent to the basement?”

Peter’s voice was low, but you heard home, nonetheless, shaking your head.

“Do you want…do you want Steve to tell me to drag you outside, tie you up to a tree and-.”

“No, no,” you choked out, shaking your head. “No.”

“Well, that’s what’s going to happen if he catches you trying to escape…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“That’s what would happen if I weren’t a better man, and I told him that I caught you trying-.”

“I’m sorry!”

Tears spilled over.

“Do you know how much I had to convince Steve to let you stay up here after what happened yesterday? He wanted to make an example out of you,” Peter whispered, his fingers grazing your arm. “He wanted to throw you down in that basement for a month.”

Your stomach turned at the thought, and you couldn’t stop crying. You felt Peter take your arm, slowly pulling you to him, and he backed up until he was sitting on the bed, taking you with him. Your head drooped, eyes on your lap, and Peter wiped your cheek.

“Things could be so much worse for you,” he whispered, leaning in, lips grazing your cheek. “I’m trying to help, but you have to help me.”

You sniffed, and Peter straightened the sleeve of your nightgown.

“Help me help you.”

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs, and Peter stroked your face, playing with your hair.

“Okay…?”

You sniffed again, briefly closing your eyes, and you gave him a hesitant nod. Peter sighed, and you felt his hand drift, tracing circles into your back.

“How about this…”

He moved closer.

“You sleep up here, tonight, because now I feel like I can’t trust you.”

“No, I-.”

“Sleep up here with me…and I won’t tell Steve about what you tried to do.”

You froze at his words, blinking, and you looked away. The thought of sleeping next to Peter made you want to be sick, but at the same time, the thought of Steve finding out that you’d tried to escape made you want to die. It made your blood run cold, heart dropping to your stomach, and you slowly looked at Peter.

His brown eyes were warm, no hint of anger in them, and he reached up, gently grazing your jaw with his fingers.

“What do you say, pretty girl…?”

You looked down, heart threatening to leap from your chest, and against what you wanted, you gave him a shaky nod. Peter softly urged you to your feed, gently taking your hand. You couldn’t stop crying, silent as tears spilled over, and Peter shushed you, tucking you in. He sat on the edge, hovering over you with one hand pressed into the bed on either side of you.

His dark brown hair kissed his forehead, and the smile he gave you was meant to be reassuring you guessed.

“This will be our little secret, okay?”

You held Peter’s gaze for a while, playing with the comforter. You wanted to trust that he wouldn’t tell Steve, and even though you didn’t, at least not fully, you also didn’t have a choice. Sleeping next to Peter for one night was nothing in comparison to however Steve would want to make an example out of you.

“Okay,” you quietly agreed.

His smile widened at that, and you remained still as he stood. Peter walked to his side of the bed, the room bathing in darkness before he joined you. He didn’t move closer nor even reach out for you. He stayed on his side as he sought sleep once again, and against what you wanted, your body started to do the same.

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter Parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #dark peter parker #marvel imagine

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fruitmins · 8 months

Text

Agust Dad—Seven

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party— one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry

➭genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭warnings: slight angst + slight fluff??, mention of nausea, rushed to edit this so might have mistakes

note: it’s 1AM but I don’t careee. my masterlist is coming soon. so many people have birthday’s in October, shoutout to all the October ARMY’s 🫶🏽 thank you EVERYONE for being patient with me

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @tatyhend @jiminiesunicorn @littlestarstinyseven @baechugff @thelilbutifulthings @tearykth @familiarlikemymirror3 @coree730 @prajusstuff @wobblewobble822 @choisoorin @manuosorioh @0funsite0 @whipwhoops @bergandysam @aloverga @illnevertrustmyselfagain @silentreadersthings @butterymin @girl-nahh @linneasblog @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @chl0buggy @serendididy @llallaaa @ghostlyworld @roguesthetic @captainchrisstan @bxcndd @lukeys-giggle

Pain.

Your head is pounding and thumping in your ears.

As you slowly come to, you feel nauseous and dizzy. And it only worsens when you slowly try to lift your heavy eyelids. You slowly open your eyes, your vision cloudy and your mind foggy. You try to look around the bright room, which immediately makes your headache worse as the light makes it more difficult to see.

You blink away the sleepiness from your eyes, and as your vision starts to come into focus, you realize you're lying down.

You slowly come to the realization that you're in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and IVs. A faint buzzing noise fills your ears.

You try to move, but your body is completely paralysed. A cold breeze cuts through you, making your teeth chatter and your bones ache.

You’re confused and scared and worst of all, your memory starts to come back.

As the memories of the last few days come flooding back into your mind, you remember the overwhelming anxiety you felt. You feel the nausea increase as you remember the events before you passed out. The fans picking your body apart, speculating about your pregnancy, calling you various cruel names.

You suddenly feel cold, so cold that your teeth practically click. You shiver, your body struggling to retain some sort of warmth. A sense of dread washes over you as you think about what might have happened while you were unconscious.

Underneath all of the icy breeze, your feel some of your skin warmer than the other part of your body.

You look down in the hospital bed you’re lying in. You don’t have a blanket, so when you find the source of the warmth your eyes widen.

Yoongi is there.

Right next to you, fast asleep on your legs, his hand rests on your stomach. You don’t know how long you’ve been in the hospital, or how long he has been with you, but he looks exhausted.

i’m here now

Despite how peaceful he looks while sleeping, there are clear eye bags under his eyes. And you swear you see some dry tears on his clear skin.

Your heart leaps at the sight of Yoongi, the sight of him in tears and looking exhausted breaking your heart.

You want to call out to him, but you're unable to speak. Your throat itchy and closed up.

The machines attached to your body beep and emit various sounds as the data they measure gets recorded and updated.

Yoongi shifts slightly, his eyes opening to reveal tired and puffy eyes, the marks of a man who hasn't slept in days. He sits up slightly, his eyes widening when he looks up at you and he realizes you're awake.

My throat closes even more at the sight of him slowly waking up. It’s a dangerously beautiful sight.

His beautiful eyes fluttering as they slowly open and look at you. The slow realization that you were wake. You don’t like how your heart flutters at the thought of him worrying about you. But it does.

“Y/N..?” His voice is soft and quiet sounding relieved but heavily concerned.

“What happened?” You manage to choke out in a shaky hoarse voice, staring back at him with your own widened eyes.

Yoongi's eyes flicker with worry as he sees the state you're in. Your voice is hoarse and your throat is sore, making you sound like you've been screaming for hours.

"Y/N..." Yoongi says softly again, getting to his feet and moving next to you slightly frantic.

"I should have expected this," he mumbles, his shoulders sinking. "You were already at your limit, trying to keep our relationship a secret. I should have warned Jin or something.." he can’t even look you in the face as he talks.

“I-It wasn’t your fault..” your voice is scratchy and shriveled so you’re not surprised when he still doesn’t relax in the slightest. But he couldn’t have known this would happen.

Even though he is stood up at the side of your bed, his hand stays gently planted on your stomach.

You remember the intense pain you felt before passing out. The sharp stab you felt that left you breathless.

“I-Is the baby okay?” You ask cautiously, almost scared to hear the answer and slightly panicked. You’d never forgive yourself if anything happened.

Yoongi hesitates, looking at you before nodding carefully. "The baby seems to be okay, thankfully."

Relief washes over you, and Yoongi takes a minute to let you digest the words and let you breathe before speaking again. "The doctors wanted to run a few tests, to make sure the baby is healthy. And we did, and thankfully, the baby is safe. But you’re gonna be here for a couple days to make sure.”

Yoongi looks at you, his gaze is full of relief but behind it all, you can see the beginnings of sadness and guilt. "It's not easy, Y/N, to watch you struggle like this." He pauses to collect himself, and your heart races at his words.

After all of the early mornings you spent together, after all of the things he has done for you so far. You can’t help but feel fuzzy inside. You can’t help but feel wanted and safe around him, despite how you felt earlier into your pregnancy.

You open your mouth to speak again, but he stops you quickly. “Wait—“ he says before walking to a nearby counter and grabbing a water bottle. It’s open, but it’s still almost completely full. He had been so stressed he wasn’t drinking water..?

He gets up and hands it to you, before sitting back down in the chair that he was by your legs. You quickly gulp down the water, clenching your thirst and your dry throat.

“Thank you..” you mumble with a cough as he gently takes the empty bottle out of your hands and helps you sit up. “How long have I been out for?”

Yoongi's eyes flicker as he tries to remember. "It's been a few days since we admitted you," he says carefully, trying to keep his voice gentle. "But they said you were dehydrated and exhausted, so they wanted to run some tests and keep you on observation."

“And I’ll be here for you every step of the wa—“ his voice is cut off by his phone ringing loudly. His head snaps to his pocket, an angry expression flashing on his face as he pulls it out of his pocket.

He takes a look at the caller ID and his angry quickly flashes to sadness. “It’s Jin..” he says, looking back up at you and you feel your heart get heavy.

Undoubtedly he was feeling guilty about the whole thing. He was nice to you even before the entire thing and has helped you in many ways.

He declines the call, but you can see his fingers swiftly typing away before putting it back in his pocket.

The sight of his phone brings you back to a harsh reality of what was going on while you’ve been unconscious. Or what you don’t know is going on while you’ve been unconscious.

“Have you seen..the media?” You ask in a low cautious tone. Yoongi sighs heavily in return, his head falling a bit. "Yeah," he says quietly. "The media is in a frenzy."

He shakes his head, his voice low and filled with sadness. "Twitter is going crazy. We're still a trending topic." he says softly, his tone is serious, and it sinks into your head how bad the situation might be.

"It's... not good," he says softly. "People are calling you names for keeping the baby, and they're not being very nice to me either. They're speculating how I feel about it, suggesting that I don’t care about you since I wasn’t standing next to you.“ His voice is filled with disappointment, and slight rage for accusing him of not caring for you.

You can’t help but feel guilty about the whole situation. You can’t imagine how much trouble he must be in with the company, how he must feel about his own fans turning on him.

You let out a shaky breath as you look down at your lap. Hormones kick in, and tears start to build in your eyes. You feel so overwhelmed by everything, even slightly guilty that this all took away from Jin’s big moment.

Despite being at such a low point in your life, Yoongi being here made it better.

"Hey..." Yoongi says softly, noticing you cry. “Don't worry yourself with what these people say. You're doing nothing wrong. We’re gonna focus on you and nothing else.”

He smiles at you, trying to help make you feel better. "I'll get you some food and a blanket."

He stands up and heads to leave the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

Yoongi walks back into the room minutes later, carrying a blanket over his shoulder and a small tray in his other hand. He hands you the blanket and sets the tray down next to you.

On the tray is a small container of soup, a cup of tea, and a few small pieces of bread. It's nothing special, but with the stress you've been going through, it might be what you need.

Yoongi sits down on the bed next to you and looks at you with concern. "Do you need anything else?" he asks softly.

“No, but thank you.” You say softly as you start to sip on the soup, looking down as you ate to avoid more butterflies in your stomach.

Yoongi watches you eat, his eyes flickering with concern as he studies the way you move. You look so frail and exhausted, and he hates seeing you like this.

"It's no problem," he says, his tone light and calming.

He looks at you with a small smile, his face expressing the feeling of satisfaction that he's able to take care of you.

A couple of minutes of silence, and he doesn’t even glance down at his phone once, despite the constant buzzing.

There’s a soft knock on the door as you’re slowly eating and a nurse pops her head through the door.

Yoongi's eyes widen as he sees the female nurse walk into the room, followed by the unmistakable form of Jin behind her.

"Jin..." Yoongi says slowly in a greeting, looking over at him. He looks almost as bad as Yoongi, if not worse. You notice how exhausted Jin looks. His eyes are dull and lifeless, and there seems to be something weighing on him. You hated that you were right about him feeling guilty.

"Are you okay?" Jin asks gently, stepping forward into the room and closing the door.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You respond with a slight smile, trying to clear up his gloomy state but it doesn’t help much. He’s bright smile is replaced by a small weak one.

“The rest of the members wanted to come, but I told them you would probably be overwhelmed..” Jin says softly.

He looks at Jin and smiles again. "Thank you for coming all the way here just to check up on her."

Jin nods, his tone more somber as the stress of the situation settles on his shoulders. "I'm just glad you're up and alright. How are you feeling?"

“Better..” you mumble as the doctor clears her throat. “We’re gonna do an ultrasound now that you’re awake. And since you’re about 21 weeks along you have the option to know what the gender is if you want.” She says happily with a smile.

Yoongi listens to the doctor in silence, his eyes flickering towards you and the doctor. When she's done speaking, he gently touches his fingers to yours, squeezing them.

He leans close, his voice almost a whisper. "Whatever you decide, I'll support your decision," he says, his voice barely audible and filled with a bit of anxiety.

You glance away from him, hoping you’re not blushing by how close he is and your eyes find Jin’s. You take a pause to think about it before answering. “I think it should be a surprise for us.. So Jin can through an awesome gender reveal party.” You say with a warm smile.

Yoongi smiles slightly, and the tension is lifted a bit. "I think that's a good idea," he says softly.

Jin looks between the both of you with a small smile, taken aback by the request at first but you can see his eyes brighten a bit. "I'll do my best to plan the most extravagant party you've ever seen," he says, his voice filled with excitement.

Yoongi looks at the doctor, seeing if she has anything else to say before he nods towards her. "Can we begin?"

"Of course," she says, gesturing for you to move to the ultrasound machine.

Yoongi gently helps you move towards it, positioning you on the bed so the ultrasound machine can get a better image of you and the baby.

But of course, now you and Yoongi can’t see the baby to reveal it’s gender so the two of you close your eyes as she examines the baby. It feels like only a few seconds passed before she leaves the room with Jin, assuring you two that the baby was okay but telling you to take it slow for a week or two.

Yoongi moves out of the way and opens his eyes once the nurse and Jin leave, looking towards you. "How are you feeling?" he asks softly, making sure you're okay.

You notice the relief on his face as you open your eyes, and you smile slightly, happy that you're both okay and the baby's healthy.

“Better.” You say again, this time more warmly and lightly. The slight change in your tone brings a warm smile to Yoongi's face.

"Good," he says softly, taking your hand. "The baby's doing alright, thankfully. You need rest, though," he tells you, his voice calm and gentle. "We'll talk more once you've gotten some sleep."

“Okay..” You say with a small nod, knowing that you still felt weak and cold. Now that you knew the baby was well, you were gonna trend very carefully.

Yoongi looks like he wants to say something more, debating with himself before letting out a sigh. “This is gonna sound stupid, but I heard somewhere that by this stage, babies can hear.”

You glance up at him curiously as he said this. It makes you intrigued that he was even reading about it. “And I thought it would be cool, if the baby heard the song we worked on together.”

Your eyes widen at his words. You’re undoubtedly flushed now, but Yoongi can’t tell because he is to busy avoiding your eyes.

“It’s stupid.” He groans to himself once he hears your silence but you quickly snap out of your thoughts and quickly shake your head.

“No, no. It’s sweet. It might actually help me fall asleep.” You reply softly and Yoongi glances over at you, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

You let out a small chuckle at his stunned reaction. “I’m serious.” You mumble and he takes a small moment to study you before silently pulling out his phone and pulling up the song.

You lean back against the hospital bed, yawning softly as you do and seconds later you hear the song start playing. He sits down and scoots the chair closer to you, closer to your stomach.

Memories flood your head about your time working on the song with him as you close your eyes. How easy it was working with Yoongi, listening to the whole album, and of the party as a result. Memories you blocked out a long time ago.

But memories you know longer wanted to hide from. Memories you now cherished.

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guccifrog · 4 months

Text

WRONG NUMBER P15

matt sturniolo x f!reader

hope u guys are happy now🙄

pov//

Pitch black. That was the only way to describe what I could see. I had no idea where I was, or what the hell was wrong with me. My body felt…off like it wasn't mine. My senses were heightened, my hearing, my sight, my touch. Everything was just…sharper. I felt like I was floating in the void, unable to move or speak or even think.

I tried focusing on what was happening around me, but there was nothing. A strong scent of blood suddenly hit me like a bullet. My blood.Just where the hell was I?

My brain was a foggy mess, struggling to process what was happening around me. I couldn't think or remember anything.

"I thought you may like it"

Huh? What was that?

"you're so hard to buy for, you know that?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. An invisible force seemed to tighten its grip on my vocal cords. It was as if my ability to speak was suddenly snatched away.

Panic started to rise in me. Where was I? Who was talking to me?

"I care about you, you know that?"

Without warning a sharp pain erupted behind my eyes, I tried moving my hand to touch my throbbing head, but I just couldn't.

"This is eating me alive Matt. I miss you"

What? Matt? That was my name. Matt.

I tried to remember, anything at all. Images started to flash in my mind, fragmented and incomplete. A face I knew, a room I'd never been in. My name was Matt.

"once you wake up, I'm not going anywhere"

Wake up from what? Who was she? I struggled to recall. My body ached, and my head felt like it was splitting in two.

The voice sounded familiar…so familiar, but I couldn't think of anything. At this point, the pain was getting worse like someone was trying to drill a hole through my skull.

I tried to focus on the voice, to remember who it belonged to, but it was no use. All I could do was lie there, in this pitch-black void, feeling helpless and confused.

"I'll do anything I can to help you get through this, okay? We'll figure it out together."

The voice was soft and reassuring, but I still couldn't remember who it belonged to. I felt a hand on my arm, warm and steady. I wasn't alone. There was someone here with me. But who were they? What was happening to me?

The pain was everywhere, making it impossible to think straight. My vision began to blur, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I tried to focus on the hand on my arm, but the darkness was overwhelming.

The voice now stopped talking, and the hand on my arm slowly withdrew. I was left alone again, drifting in the blackness. My head was still in pain, and my body ached with every breath I took. I tried to concentrate on something, anything, but the darkness was all-consuming.

My eyes closed shut for a moment, my senses leaving my numb body, I couldn't tell if I was lying down, upright, or spinning.

I forced my eyes open again, wincing against the harsh light. It was no longer dark, instead, there was a bright light blinding me and It took a moment for my vision to adjust.

I was lying on a bed, a plain, white bed. I tried to sit up, but the room spun violently, and I was forced to lie back down.

My head still hurt, and my body ached with every movement. But I was able to take in more of my surroundings.

I look to my right, a small window, The curtains are drawn, casting a faint, grayish light over the room. The walls are painted a dull beige color, and there's a door to the left.

I turn my head slightly, and I see a Girl, sitting in a chair beside the bed. She looked pale and tired, her hair a mess around her shoulders, and she was asleep.

I knew her. That's for sure. I try to remember her name, but it's hazy. I do remember her voice, though. It's the same voice that's been talking to me.

I want to ask her questions, but my voice is still gone and I can't move.

I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in more details. Machines were beeping softly in the background, and there were IV lines connected to both my hands. I tried to raise my left hand, but it was numb and heavy.

I turned to look at the girl again, taking in her features. There was something about her that made me feel safe, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Her face was soft and innocent, her lips slightly parted as she slept. I wondered how long she'd been here, sitting by my bedside.

My eyes landed on the bedside table, where there were a few items scattered around. A glass of water, some tissues, and a catus? I frowned, wondering what it was doing there.

The girl stirred in her chair, and I turned my head to watch her. She slowly opened her eyes, and they focused on me for a moment before she shoot up, looking alarmed. "Matt? Are you awake?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I tried to nod, but my neck was too stiff. "Yeah…" My voice came out as a croak, but it was a relief to finally speak again.

The girl stared at me, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. "Oh, thank God," she whispered as she chokedbacka sob.

"Don't scare me like that ever again you fucker" she reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

I closed my eyes, relaxing to the feel of her soft hand in mine. "Sorry," I managed to croak. "It's all a bit hazy."

She laughed softly, the sound both melodic and comforting, and it was like music to my ears.

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @4iriss

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flowerflowerflo · 4 months

Text

heyy <3 ok so this is something ive been struggling with for years. like i wake up some days and just feel Eugh way more than id like to. a few things that help me in these situations ~

୨🌸୧ feeling uncomfy with urself & uncomfy in ur own skin

🌸 be gentle with yourself pleasepleaseplease its ok to have bad days its ok to not feel great every day. treat yourself as you would someone you love 🫶

🌸 i know its often told not to go looking at people who are ahead of you in these times but hear me out, i think looking at and observing people you admire who are further ahead of you is very motivating to build yourself up and *become more like them* in your own way. you look up to them because of ___? what can you do to become your own version of that? thinking like this gets me more inspired to just get out of bed because i want to be more like them.

two words for this one - NO. COMPARISON. gaining inspiration from others to better yourself and comparing yourself to others are two completely different things. 🫶

🌸 journal and think and think to urself why u might feel like this or what caused this. when did it start? has anything happened lately that may have caused this? how does it feel, in depth? what can you do to combat this? how can you make it through the day & make it so you do even better tomorrow?

🌸 back to my point on our idols, thinking like them & thinking what they'd do in this situation helps me a lot. personally one of my idols is coco chanel so whenever im really tired and unmotivated or insecure on my abilities or appearance or anything else i think to myself "what would she do?" and 9 times out of 10 im up at my desk in my cutest outfit hard at work. this is def one of my favourite points and something i use on the daily for like literally everything and 100% recommend 💕

🌸 similarly, ask urself what the best version of yourself or the version of urself youre working towards would do in this situation. be your own inspiration. would they stay in bed and rot all day? if the answer is no then ur up. out. immediately. ask urself what they would do. if ur feeling drained, would they take a day off to do some self care and recharge? if ur feeling sad, would they be gentle with themselves and let themselves feel sad for a little while & try to work to the root of the problem?

🌸 make a list of the things that make you the happiest and most comfortable & productive and the things that make you the unhappiest and the opposite of those things. figuring out these will help you find out which negative behaviours or habits are lowering ur vibrations and making u feel like this, and help u to engage more in the things that make you happy with yourself and everything around you 💖

remember that these things are temporary and it wont be like this forever. ur beautiful and perfect no matter what and in these times u gotta show up for yourself even more and never give up! i believe in u 🫶🩷

#girl blog #finally made it out of my drafts!!!#wonyoungism #it girl #self concept #thewizardliz #self care #pink pilates princess #glow up era #that girl #girblogging #this is a girlblog #!!! <3

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neonghostlights · 7 months

Text

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Actress!Reader (best friends to lovers-slow burn)

★ A/N: Whoop, Whoop. It’s almost time for the fluff. Not in this chapter though, please read the warnings.

★ Series Summary: It’s the ‘90s in LA and you and your best friend Eddie have both made it big. The following is a series of Interviews, News Reports and One Shots showing you and Eddie’s story throughout the years.

★Chapter Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital and some confessions are made

★Warnings: READER IS IN AN VERBAL, EMOTIONAL, AND PHYSICALLY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (not with Eddie) SOME OF THE ABUSE IS DESCRIBED, hospitals, IV, pain, injury, car accident, arrest, death, threats of killing someone and violence, drugs, angst. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS IS TRIGGERING AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I HAVE MISSED ANY WARNINGS (18 + ONLY MINORS DNI!!!!)

★Wordcount: 2.2k

Series masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Make It Go Away

Date Unknown

You had been asleep, at least you think you were. Everything had been a blur since you got pulled out of the car.

Your back hurt. Well, everything hurt but you could really feel your back aching against the hard hospital mattress. You knew there were worse things to worry about in your life right now than the comfortability of a hospital bed but you wanted to allow yourself a little moment of selfishness.

The nurses and doctors put stuff in your IV that made you feel warm and fuzzy. Whatever it was that they drugged you up with wasn’t strong enough to make all of the pain go away or for your mind to shut up.

You weren’t even sure how long you had been here.

Days? Hours? Weeks?

There wasn’t a point when you woke up suddenly. You had just gone from a state of slumber to waking gradually and slowly. You think that your brain was still thinking thoughts when you were supposed to be dreaming peacefully, making being awake right now even more disorienting.

You could remember the accident which you figured was a good sign. If you had brain damage you probably wouldn’t be able to recall the smell of alcohol on his breath or the way he was screaming in your face while speeding through traffic. You didn’t even realize that the car was going into the incoming traffic until you saw the headlights shining in your face.

And then that’s when the crash happened.

It was slow motion, the way the car hit the other car and then before you knew it your world was flipping.

People ask you a lot of questions after something very disorienting happens to you. The worst part is they expect you to know the answers.

You hummed a sigh, rubbing the scratchy blankets between your pointer finger and thumb. You’d have to make a donation to this hospital when you got out. You’d make sure to write on the check that it was specifically for them to get better sheets.

You laughed a little at the thought of it.

It was amazing how quiet it was here compared to how loud it was before. When you first got here there were a lot of people talking to you, shining lights in your face and poking and prodding you.

Then you got moved to whatever room you were in now. Now that you thought about it, you had to have passed out a few times because of the gaps in your memories.

You do remember the yelling though. Someone had been outside of your room yelling in what you had assumed was a hallway. You figured you would just check on them after your nap.

You went to sit up. Maybe you should check on them now. It seemed like the right thing to do after all of the damage you had caused.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t do this again here. Lay back down,” a voice commanded. You felt warm, calloused hands wrapping around your upper arms, guiding you back down to the bed.

You fought them, not liking the way they were making you move in the opposite direction than you wanted to go.

It reminded you of a lot of times Collins hands had been on you. It made you panic, your breath getting faster as you tried to struggle against him.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Please,” you cried, throat rawer than you had expected. You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. The apologies had never worked before with him but it never hurt to try. Maybe he would show you some mercy after all you had been through.

The voice shushed you.

“Everything’s okay. I just don’t want you to rip out your IV.” It was soft voice, sleepy. It was gentleness and caring all wrapped into one. It was a sound you had heard all through childhood. It was a sound that you associated with home.

It wasn’t Collin.

It was Wayne.

“Wayne?” You croaked out, bleary eyes finally cracking open to take a look at the man. You felt the warmth pooling in your eyes and start to run down your cheeks at the thought of him being here.

“It’s okay, darlin. Don’t cry,” he said softly. You could barely make him out between your heavy eyelids and your tears. You felt a sob build up and release from your chest.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse popped in, speaking to Wayne in hushed tones instead of to you directly.

“Talk to me,” you begged through a whimper.

She told you what you already knew. That you had been in an accident and under some heavy medication but that you were okay. She said something about getting the doctor before she whisked out of the room quickly.

“He’s gone down stairs,” Wayne turned to you and said as soon as the door clicked shut. “He just had to go get something to eat and take care of a few things. It’s the first time he’s left you since he got here. He’s gonna be so torn up that you woke up without him here.”

You weren’t sure exactly who he was talking about but you nodded pathetically anyway.

You could see Wayne a little better now. It was dark in the room, making you think it was night time without even looking out of the window. There were little nightlights shining that gave just enough light to make out his face.

He looked tired, worn down. You hated to think you were the cause of his pain. He had more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, and a little less hair. How long had it been since you saw him? Years?

You opened your mouth to ask him the question that had been on your mind when the door opened again.

He looked even worse than Wayne. His hair was disheveled, eyes red and tired. You hadn’t seen him this messy since he got a stylist and publicist. His frame seemed so small, but his voice was undeniable.

If this was a trick of your brain it would be a sick one. You felt like you were in shock, floating out of your body at the sight of someone you had once known and loved so dearly.

But you knew all too well that that love never truly disappeared no matter how much you tried to avoid it.

“I-I heard the nurses talking and I tried to get back here as soon as I could. You’re awake for real this time,” he said as he approached your bed with a wobbling lip.

“Eddie?” You asked, thinking that this could be a dream. Waiting for the Eddie look alike to clarify that you were hallucinating and that Eddie wasn’t here nor did he care.

“Hi,” he said, confirming it was him as he took your hand in his shaking one. “How are you feeling?”

What a loaded question. How does one person feel after something like this? Was it more shocking to announce that you were more shocked to see Eddie here than to be waking up in a hospital bed.

“Confused,” you admitted, politely, like you were talking to an acquaintance and not like you were talking to your best friend of many, many years. “Why did you ask if I was really awake this time?”

Eddie bit his lip, staring down at where your hand fit into his. His thumb swiped a few times against the back of your hand and the gesture made you lower your guard slightly.

“You’ve done this a few times. You’ll wake up some and try to get out of bed or cuss me out.” Eddie smiled at what you were assuming was your choice of colorful language to throw at him. “But then you’d go back to sleep again for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You questioned, trying to push yourself up in the bed with the hand Eddie wasn’t holding onto. Your muscles trembled and protested, weak, so you gave up and laid your head back down on the pillow, turned to look at Eddie who was perched on the side of your bed.

Eddie and Wayne shared a look before Wayne spoke, “about three days.”

“Three days?” You repeated, shocked.

Eddie nodded slowly.

“Is he-,” you started but needed to swallow a bit before you could get the words out. Your mouth was horrendously dry, it felt like sandpaper and it wasn’t helping the heavy load of the words you were about to say. “Is Collin dead?”

Eddie gripped your hand a little tighter before letting it go. He ran a shaky hand through hair, not once but twice before he stood up and walked across the room.

“No. He’s not dead,” Wayne drawled from beside your bed, a concerned eye kept on you to judge your reaction.

“But he fucking should be,” Eddie scoffed from across the room, fists clenched in his side. “I wish I was able to get in that fucking place. I swear I would-”

“Eddie, that is enough,” Wayne demanded sternly, sending him a look that was silently telling him to shut up.

“Wait.” You tried to sit up again and Eddie was immediately at your side, setting the head of the bed up slightly and adjusting the pillows behind your back to make it easier for you.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“I’m gonna give y’all two a minute. This old man is gonna go get himself a cup of coffee,” Wayne said as he pushed himself up from the chair, grimacing from the pain in his knees from sitting for too long. “I’ll be back,” he said with a wave before walking out the door.

“Eddie,” you begged. “Please. Tell me.”

“He’s in jail,” he said carefully after he took the spot Wayne was in beside your bed. He reached for your hand again but you jerked away, trying to comprehend the words that were coming out of his full lips.

When you didn’t say anything, he kept going, “They took him for reckless driving, possession, driving under the influence and evading the police. I’m sure there will be more charges by the time it is all said and done.”

Your stomach turned. He had to be so mad, so mad at you. You had to get away. You couldn’t let him think that you had any part in this.

Eddie saw the panic clear on your face.

“Look at me,” Eddie demanded, voice frantic. “Has he been hurting you? Has this been going on the whole goddamn time?”

You looked at him, unsure if you should tell him the truth. It was obvious by the way you had reacted right? This wasn’t normal, none of it was. It felt strange for Eddie to not know what had been happening to you. It felt like everyone else in your circle knew but were bound not to say anything. But Eddie really hadn’t been a part of your circle in a long, long time.

It felt wrong to confirm it, fear gnawed in your gut that Collin would find out. That he would know that you had told and that your punishment would be severe.

He might really kill you this time.

Eddie knew what you were thinking. You knew he knew just by the look on your face and the fear in your eyes from being trapped in a body that was too weak to flee for safety.

He just wanted to hear you say it. He needed the confirmation to further torture himself.

Eddie could read you. He always had. Lying would be so pointless at this point.

“He left you there. Did you know that? He got out the fucking car with only a few scratches and ran. He didn’t care if the car was on fire or if you were inside. He didn’t care if he killed someone that night because he fucking ran. So don’t bother protecting him.”

“I’m not protecting him, Eddie. I’m trying to protect myself.” Your voice cracked at your admission, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Eddie was closer to you in an instant, hands wrapping around you as he pulled in close to him.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Eddie said, his own voice cracking and tears wetting your hair. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.”

“What are we going to do?” You asked, pulling away and looking into his tear soaked face. Your best friend looked like he had aged a lifetime from the worrying you had put him through. You had a feeling he had some stories of his own to tell from the time you had been apart. “I can’t go out there anymore. Everyone is going to know and I can’t take the way everyone is going to look at me or what everyone is going to say,” you were going frantic, realization setting in at what this meant for you, your image, and your career.

“I know what we’re gonna do. It’s not going to fix everything but it’s going to give everything time to calm down and give you time to heal,” Eddie told you, wide eyed.

“What?”

“We’re going to get out of LA. Just me and you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddiemunson x actress!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x actress!reader

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allisonlol · 2 years

Note

BSD MEN WHEN YOU HUG YOUR PLUSHIE/PILLOW INSTEAD OF THEM AHHHH IVE BEEN THINKING OF YHIS SINCE FIREVER

a/n: BRO this is so cute?? picked some of my favorite boys for it. ALSO have y'all seen the season 4 trailer?? literally still shaking from it, i am so so happy :D !! jumped around my room screaming cuz i'm a bit unhinged for it

but what i'm NOT so happy about is my ipad completely breaking out of nowhere?? (chuuya's beautifulness in the trailer broke it) so im writing this with my laptop?? sad but at least i can type faster >:)

warnings: NONE just absolute fluff

(Chuuya, Ranpo, Nikolai, Jouno) When You Hug Your Plushie Instead of Them

Chuuya

so chuuya had recently bought you a plushie that you'd been fawning over cuz it was the cutest thing ever (after him, ofc)

litte did he know that it would soon replace him-

that night, chuuya smiled at you when he noticed you hugging the plushie while scrolling on your phone before bed

but he quickly got fed up when he realized you just?? weren't going to cuddle with him too??

regrets buying you that thing REAL quick

nudges your arm and tries to get your attention but you just shoot him a smile and go back to your phone

chuuya's patience meter is miniscule so now he's pissed off (at the plushie tho?? not at you)

does that thing where he'll just sit there and keep sighing dramatically until you ask what's wrong smh

once you do, he's like "NOTHING'S WRONG" but avoids looking you in the eye and instead looks past you or down at the sheets?? and that's when you know he's upset 🤕

you move the plushie aside and open your arms to hug him instead

ngl you knew he wanted to cuddle but thought it would be funny to tease him... APOLOGIZE RN

bro glares at you?? he's trying to give you the cold shoulder but fails and smiles softly cuz you look so cute

grabs you and has a vice grip on you the rest of the night- also probably kicks the plushie to the floor when ur not looking

Ranpo

ranpo is a cuddle bug who wants ALL of your attention on him

so it's safe to say he's not very happy that u have found...something else to hug

ranpo had arrived home late due to detective work, so you'd already fallen asleep while waiting for him

except you struggle to sleep now without hugging something (since you're so used to doing that with him). so you simply grabbed one of ur plushies to hold instead

literally shakes you awake so frantically you think there's an emergency

you're all like "what's going on!! :0" & then bro makes it sound like ur cheating on him??

"i can't believe you would abandon me for...for THAT thing!!!!" points his finger at you all accusingly and everything

snatches the plushie from you and throws it across the room >:0

will then proceed to plop down next to you and just. not speak 😐😐

^ignores your protests as you get up to grab the plushie and gives you the nastiest side eye?? childish i stg

you sigh and prop the plushie at the end of the bed so you can crawl up next to ranpo and wrap your arms around him

he finally stops pouting and melts into ur touch 😽

AAAA I CAN FINALLY USE GIFS FOR THEM

Nikolai

worse than ranpo. like significantly

you'd gone to take a nap and had instinctively fallen asleep hugging ur favorite plushie

nikolai was doing who knows what but ended up entering the room about an hour later

stops dead in his tracks when he sees you...hugging...something ELSE?!

doesn't wake you at first. sneaks over to peer over ur shoulder at what you're holding

partially relieved to see it's just a plushie, but also partially mad because um?? why wasn't it him??

doesn't even bother waking you. just straight up yanks it out of your grasp 💀

you wake up in a panic with this mf LOOMING over you

probably rips it's head off???? or at least threatens to

pls you're lowkey about to cry cuz that's your comfort plushie 😥😥

you literally gotta scramble out of bed and beg him not to destroy it

does the thing where he holds it over ur head but dangles it just out of reach. and this mf is tall asf so good luck with that -.-

you end up just grabbing his arm and pulling his dumbass back to the bed to cuddle him instead

Jouno

ok ngl you did this on purpose to piss him off

i don't blame you cuz it be funny when he's ticked off

you and jouno had been preparing for bed when u decided to play a lil prank on him

it was mostly just to see if he'd even have a reaction?? cuz we all know this man either doesn't give a fuck or he goes off the rails

you'd gotten into bed first and while waiting for him, snatched the plushie you keep on your side and snuggled up next to it

u close ur eyes when you hear him walking into the room and pretend to be falling asleep

his footsteps stop by the bed and he just stands there like 😑???? cuz he can tell by your heartbeat that you're still awake, yet he's wondering why you haven't acknowledged his presence??

so i mean right off the bat this mf knows something's up

gets in bed next to you but goes OUT OF HIS WAY to make sure y'all are not touching in any way petty asf

can tell by the way you're positioned that you're hugging something else close to you

you peek open ur eyes to shoot him a glance but he has the most unreadable expression i stg

internally he is like WHY NOT ME WHY NOT ME but no one else would be able to tell~

by now he's figured out that ur messing with him and does NOT take it lightly. literally sleeps with his back to you and won't acknowledge you until morning

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @sonder-paradise @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss

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spectres-n-soap · 4 months

Text

Your Warmth is Fading - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - pregnancy complications, hospital stuff

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

It was late at night, long past visiting hours but your nightmare still haunted you. The taste of bile still lingered on your tongue and sweat still stuck to your skin. At least your breathing returned to normal. The quiet of the military hospital room was off putting but the machine showed Soap was still alive. The pattern of his heart beat, the IV bags hung up and the soft breathing of his soothed you.

You slinked over to the chair next to his bed and sat down. Soap looked better, no longer on death's doorstep even if all the tubes and wires connected to him unsettled you. His face was relaxed despite the discoloration of his right cheek. You thought back to what the doctor who had first reviewed the two of you had said. The comment was still bitter in your mouth. The doctor had called you both lucky. What a load of shite. Luck would have stopped it all from happening in the first place.

You kept an eye on Soap a little longer until sleep started to pull at you again. You stood up and before you left, your lips grazed his forehead. At least he was still alive.

"You're joking." you say, looking at the doctor with your brows pinched so tight you could feel your skin pulling tight.

"You should be in bed rest for the last month of your pregnancy." the doctor reiterated. "For your safety and the baby's." Simon looks between you and the doctor. He wants to side with the doctor and also strangle him. How could he have not caught this sooner? "Your baby being positioned like this will only cause more harm to your body the longer you move around.”

You shake your head, anger making your face turn hot. Those fucking Braxton Hicks hadn't been all Braxton Hicks but a major sign of your baby, Johnny's baby, being sideways. If it wasn't so fucking terrible you might be laughing. "How did you not catch this sooner?" you snarl.

"This is why we insist on check ups every week. So we can catch things like this.”

"But what about all the other check ups?" you huff and sit up, grasping onto Simon's arm for a little extra support. "What if you had missed it completely?”

"Ma'am please, getting aggressive will not do any of us any good.”

"A month I have to spend doing nothing." you grumble and cross your arms over your chest. You wonder, a thing you've been doing often, how Johnny would react to all of this. Wonder if he would be spitting mad and yelling at the doctor with a thick Scottish accent. You can almost hear it. Pulling from memories of him training recruits or yelling at an insubordinate recruit.

"It's for the best." Simon says, physically stopping himself from adding a 'love' to the end. He was sure you would throw your shoes at him if he let it slip. You had always been a firecracker and pregnancy seemed to amplify how quickly your anger flared up. It would be cute, he thinks, if he didn't know that you could gut him like a fish.

You glare at Simon the entire trip back to the flat, refuse his help getting out of his truck and slam the truck door shut hard. The last few weeks you've struggled up the stairs to your flat and now you're marching up them like you weren't advised to keep exercise low. “Would ya fuckin’ wait?” Simon huffs. Your glare could melt steel and you slam the flat door behind you. Simon groans and opens it to find you pacing back and forth.

“Just sit down.” Simon says and grabs you by the shoulders. You push him away a little, stumbling yourself from the force needed to do such an act.

“Don't tell me what to do.” you snap and run your fingers through your hair. You were sure you would lose your fucking mind if you had to rest all day for a month.

“You should update Mrs and Mr MacTavish on the situation.” Simon suggests, “Maybe Mrs MacTavish has gone through this before.” You glare at him but pull out your phone anyway and begin to type.

You're there when he wakes up, this time not high on pain meds. “Lass?” he groggily muttered and tried to rub at his eyes. Soap hissed when he felt the IV needle in his arm at the movement. “What ‘re ye doin’ here?”

“Waiting for you to wake up.” you stated, voice cool and Soap sunk further into blankets and hospital bed. He knew that look in your eyes, you were on the verge of an explosion. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” you snapped and flicked his forehead for good measure. “Running into that building like a man with a death wish.” you tossed your hands up in the air.

“Well I'm not dead.”

“I had to perform CPR on your MacTavish!” you snarled, “Blood loss might've fogged that part over but I remember!”

“Lass-”

“Do not ‘Lass’ me.” you stood from your chair, the spot you had nearly grown roots into if not for the different appointments you had due to the wounds on your hands. “You nearly died and I had to watch it. Do you seriously think I wouldn't be upset?”

“Lass I'm fine.” Soap tried to say and sit up. He groaned and clutched his side when the pain shocked through his system. “Bleeding Christ.”

You sat back down in your chair and wiped at your tears so he wouldn't see them. “You pull that shit on me again MacTavish and I'll let the crows eat you.”

“I'm not on bed rest yet Simon.” you huff and nudge Simon away and out of the kitchen. “I can make my own food.”

“Never said ya couldn't.” Simon mutters as he takes a step back.

“Go finish setting up the baby changing station.” you say, swallowing the snarl. You keep reminding yourself that this isn't Simon's fault. Mrs. MacTavish has texted back, telling you that she once had a friend with the same complication but not to worry. The month would pass quickly. You had to also turn off your phone to stop from messaging something hurtful. The military had always kept you moving. Running courses, training recruits or deployed into the field. Pregnancy had already shown you down and put you on light duty until you took leave.

You tap your foot as you stir the soup and your eyes drift to the front of your hands. The scars had faded well thanks to treatments but sometimes you wish they hadn't. Just as a reminder, something to run your hands over that wasn't your bulging stomach. You reach and turn on your phone, holding your breath as well as you could bring 7 months pregnant as the brands sign flashes.

You stare at your lock screen, a group picture of the 141. Back when Soap was alive. A ding as a notification pops up, a message from Mrs MacTavish from several hours ago.

“Would you like a baby shower before you have to go on bed rest?”

A baby shower? You had a small one at four months. Just Price and Gaz, Simon wasn't invited. The baby clothes you had were from those two. You really didn't want another. So much stress and surely more people. You had seen the family pictures on the wall in their house.

I owe it to them, you think as you type up the one word response, at least I owe them this much.

“Yes.”

#ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap #call of duty #cod #john soap mctavish x you #mw3 spoilers #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

come crawling faster

read on AO3

Eddie’s rings are clean of blood when he wakes up.

It doesn’t occur to him until later, as he’s laying in bed trying to sleep, that someone must have cleaned the for him, and the thought twirls the air around him like a tornado. He inspects them in the moonlight, and there isn’t a speck of blood or dirt even in the deepest crevices of them. He smiles at the ceiling in the dark.

Everyone is happy that he’s okay. They all hug him gently, careful and mindful of the stitches holding him together, of the IV in his arm, of the way his head aches like he’s hungover. All their voices are low and their hands gentle, and Robin and Nancy bring clothes for him to wear that aren’t cold hospital gowns. Dustin cries, and Eddie thinks that for a few minutes while Eddie holds him, he’s turned back into the little boy he was before he was shoved into the whole mess of the Upside Down.

They all update him on everything that’s happened since he’s been out. Max is okay, with healing arms and glasses almost thicker than the bottoms of Coke bottles. Erica and Lucas are okay. Dustin’s leg is healing, but he’ll have to use a cane. Mike is back from Lenora, with a girl named Eleven and Will and Jonathan, and some guy named Argyle.

He sees all their smiles.

Except Steve.

Steve doesn’t smile. Not once.

He stands in the corner and watches everyone talking, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall like a broody movie villain, and a few times when Eddie looks in his direction, he’s already looking back. Frowning. Or he’s looking at the ground like he’s bored, like he doesn’t want to be here at all.

And every time it makes Eddie’s chest tighten, so he squares his shoulders and widens his smile and looks away, back to whoever is talking. He’s actually struggling to follow along as their voices overlap, and he thinks maybe he’s just tired, because when Robin speaks, he looks toward Eleven for a moment, and he accidentally calls Dustin Lucas’s name.

They all say goodbye when they leave. The kids all hug him gently again, along with Robin and Nancy. Argyle and Jonathan smile.

Steve doesn’t say goodbye.

Eddie tries not to let it get under his skin, but it gnaws away at him like teeth as he stares up at the ceiling. How easily Steve left, like he doesn’t even know Eddie. How he was almost glaring at Eddie the whole time. How he didn’t even seem slightly happy that Eddie was alive.

He only sees Steve a few times while he’s in the hospital, because Steve drives the kids to visit. If it were up to Steve, Eddie doesn’t think he’d even show up. It’s still under Eddie’s skin.

Days go by.

The government pulls some strings. Eddie’s murder charges are dropped. He’s released from the hospital but only with a security guard that’s armed with a gun just in case. Eddie goes home to Wayne.

Home is different now. An apartment in town, small and a little run-down, but it has two bedrooms and more hot water than the trailer. And there aren’t any bloodstains on the ceiling.

Eddie helps Wayne put up his mugs around the kitchen, and his hats in the living room. Wayne chides him gently. You’re gonna pull your stitches, Eds, I got it. But Eddie’s tired of doing nothing, of laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to think up new campaign ideas only to be distracted wondering what’s going on with Steve. So he keeps helping. And he cleans, and decorates his own room with posters and photos and banners that someone packed while he was in his coma.

He has to go back to the hospital several times, accompanied by Wayne. To remove the stitches on his cheek, then the stitches on his arms and legs, then the stitches on his sides and chest. Eddie hates getting stitches removed.

He’s covered in scars, all pink and disfigured, tender and sensitive. The scars on his sides are almost indented, his skin no longer smooth and soft. The one on his cheek is jagged. He avoids looking in mirrors. He wears long sleeve shirts, even though the weather is getting warmer.

He doesn’t go back to school even though he has the option to. He doesn’t want to be looked at. And he doesn’t really care anymore. There are bigger things to worry about than fucking Ms O’Donnell’s class. (Like what’s going on with Steve.)

Wayne goes back to work. The kids go back to school. The town seems to get used to Eddie. He still gets glares from people, and he looks back. He doesn’t hide the scar on his face or the one around his neck. They leave him alone.

The living room of the apartment becomes their new D&D place. Steve drives the kids over and picks them up. He doesn’t come upstairs. None of the kids say anything about. And this thing between Steve and Eddie becomes a quiet, unspoken thing that no one even glances at. It’s not the unspoken thing Eddie had hoped for when he opened his eyes in the hospital, blinded by the sun on the white walls and another chance at life. It’s the opposite of what he’d hoped for.

A month goes by.

Mike and Eleven break up, and that weird tension that was always present around them disappears. (Eddie always thought Mike talked about Will more than he talked about El at school anyway.) Nancy and Jonathan break up too. The day after, they both look happier than Eddie’s seen them before.

Eddie has some parts of his life back. He goes over to Gareth’s for band practice, and he decides he prefers how his guitar looks in this dimension, how it shines in the sun. He also decides that life is better when he’s not in high school. He’s going to try to get a job this summer, at a car shop or something. Wherever will hire him.

It’s been three weeks since he and Steve have seen each other. Or, he supposes, since he’s seen Steve. Steve didn’t look at him. It was like Eddie wasn’t there. It made him feel gross in a way he’s never felt, like his skin didn’t fit right, like it was bunched up and twisted, and he wanted to rip it off and set it on fire. And scream. Because he was mad.

Because even if Steve doesn’t feel the same way about him, Eddie thought they were friends. Or at least friendly. Eddie almost died, and Steve hasn’t said a single word to him.

So yeah. Eddie is mad.

But he’s pissed when he sees Steve at the grocery store, and their eyes meet across the stand of fruit they’re both at, and Steve just… looks down. Picks up an apple. Squeezes it.

And walks away.

Eddie is pissed.

More pissed than he’s ever been in his life. His blood feels like it’s boiling in his veins, like he’s being burned alive, and he can’t breathe, and he puts his basket down and leaves the store. (Usually he’d take the time to pay, or put the few items in the basket back. But he thinks that if he tries to do either, he’ll lose his mind.)

He goes to the parking lot. Sits in the driver seat of his van for a few minutes, staring at the gray sky as his hands shake and his knee bounces against the steering wheel, trying to figure out what exactly was in Steve’s eyes when he looked at him. They were awfully blank, but he looked… anxious. His eyes were a little too wide, his jaw a little too firm.

The sky darkens as Eddie stares at it.

He’s still pissed. He’s still shaking.

His keys rattle as he turns the van on, and his breath trembles as he drives, the windshield wipers on as it starts to rain. And then he’s at the Harrington mansion, and he wants to drive off a cliff, because what the fuck is he doing here?

He turns off the van and stares at the house. At all the windows. The downstairs lights are on. Eddie wonders if Steve is scared of the dark too.

It’s almost pouring when Eddie gets to the front doorstep and rings the doorbell before he knocks five times, hard. The door swings open a few moments later, and Steve is beautiful even Eddie’s angry at him.

His brows are furrowed in confusion, but his face relaxes back into that horrible blankness when he realises it’s Eddie.

Eddie stares at him. Steve stares back.

For a while. In silence, except the pouring rain. Eddie’s eyes look back and forth between Steve’s, who holds the door so tightly Eddie thinks he’s going to slam it shut.

And Eddie wants to hear him talk.

And Eddie is stubborn. He’s had great practice being stubborn. So he doesn’t speak, or move, or even breathe too hard even though his hands are still trembling, until Steve finally exhales and steps back.

“Get out of the rain.”

“Oh, he speaks!” Eddie exclaims, and he knows he’s being bitchy, but he doesn’t care. He kicks his shoes off, nudging them into a corner as Steve shuts the door heavily and steps into the kitchen that’s bigger than Eddie’s living room.

“What the fuck?” Eddie bursts as he follows him, watching him lean casually against a counter and cross his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a red sweater that looks criminally good on him, but Eddie doesn’t let it distract him.

“What the fuck,” Steve repeats dryly.

“You wanna fuckin’ tell me why you’ve barely fucking looked at me in the past goddamn month?”

Eddie has a swearing problem. It was the cause of a lot of his detention visits in high school, because he can’t help it. When he gets frustrated or annoyed or angry, his language gets colourful. Usually he regrets the words as he’s saying them, sometimes because he knows he’s gonna wind up in Peterson’s room after the bell rings with a pink slip in hand, and sometimes because the person he’s talking to doesn’t really deserve to be talked to like that. Because he’s not mad or frustrated with them, they just happen to be in the line of fire.

But not Steve.

Steve is the fucking target.

Eddie is already breathing hard as Steve looks away, his tongue sliding over his teeth in his closed mouth, seething.

“Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes snap up him, dark and gleaming like a predator’s. His voice is rough when he speaks.

“Because I’m pissed at you.”

“Well, Christ,” Eddie says loudly. “What a development.” His stomach aches, like he’s sick at the thought of Steve being mad at him. “You wanna tell me why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment before he stands up straight off the counter, uncrossing his arms, staring so hard at Eddie that his nose might start bleeding.

“I told you,” he says evenly, pointing at Eddie with two loose fingers, “not to be a hero.”

“Harrington—“

“And you nodded,” Steve interrupts, his pointing fingers stabbing the air between them. “You agreed, and I believed you.” His voice is loud, but shaking, Eddie wants to cry. He wants to burn his skin. “So I left you with my kid and I came back to find you fucking bleeding out in his arms.”

“What, so you’re mad that I almost died?”

“I’m mad that you went back!” And Eddie wants to die, because Steve is yelling now, but it’s still better than the silence he’s gotten. “I’m mad that you didn’t fucking run!”

Eddie’s eyes are burning, and his lips are pursed in a frown, and Steve’s hand falls.

“Why didn’t you run?” he asks brokenly, and Eddie realises the predatory gleam in his eyes is just tears.

“I ran from Chrissy,” Eddie says as strong to as he can. “I wasn’t gonna run again.”

“Anybody would have run from that, Eddie,” Steve yells. He leans forward in emphasis, and he looks like he’s going to cry. “You weren’t a coward, you were human. You didn’t have to fucking— make up for it.”

Eddie stares, blinking tears back, pursing his lips when his chin quivers.

“I’m pissed at you,” Steve says, leaning against the counter again. He’s breathing hard. His hands are shaking too. “Because you lied to me.”

He takes a deep, unsteady breath.

“And because—“ He chokes, swallowing. “Because you didn’t think that obviously Dustin was gonna follow you back. And I don’t— Jesus, Eddie, I don’t care if you don’t give a shit about your life, it’s not— not fucking fair.” His voice breaks on the last word, and Eddie’s chest feels like it’s been ripped open.

“The fuck’s that mean,” he says quietly. His whole body hurts. He thinks maybe Steve’s hands could make it feel better, but what are the chances Steve is going to touch him gently right now?

“I know you knew what was gonna happen, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice even, lethal.

Eddie’s stomach twists, and his breath catches in his throat, because he didn’t think he’d have to talk about this. He didn’t think anyone knew.

Steve stares at him, his eyes fucking piercing into Eddie, like he’s trying to see his bones.

“And I don’t care if you didn’t care,” Steve says firmly, his eyes shining brightly, his lip quivering. “It’s not— It’s not fair.”

The air feels tight, almost smoke-filled, like there’s a fire they’re both ignoring.

“Your life,” Steve says slowly, loudly, his eyes trained on Eddie like he’s worried he’s going to run, “is not yours to just throw away.”

“So, what, it’s yours?” Eddie snaps like he’s offended.

“Yes,” Steve yells roughly.

And the smoke clears.

Eddie’s eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking, and Steve’s eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking too. He’s breathing hard, his brows furrowed, and his lip quivers as he stammers silently.

“It’s mine,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “And Dustin’s. And Lucas’s, and Mike’s and Wayne’s, and everyone else on this goddamn planet that cares about you.”

And Eddie’s chest feels like it’s hallowing out. Like Steve is carving his flesh and bone away with a knife. His eyes watch a tear fall from Steve’s eye to the floor, landing on the tile.

“What about you?” Eddie asks, still angry.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Steve snaps, his face hard as he almost glares at Eddie, his eyes still glistening. Eddie glares back, his brows furrowed, and he inhales slowly. The room is silent except the rain pounding on the roof, on the glass windows, except his and Steve’s stuttered breathing.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, Steve,” Eddie says coldly.

Steve looks like Eddie’s slapped him.

“The kids told me about how you threw yourself at a raging psychopath,” Eddie says.

“That was—“

“And how in the same night you threw yourself in front of a pack of demodogs with nothing but a baseball bat.”

“That—“

“Nancy and Jonathan told me about how Nancy forced you leave at gunpoint,” Eddie says, his voice louder, moving closer without even noticing. His voice is shaking. “And you still went back.”

Steve stares. His eyes are wide, and he looks angrier than Eddie’s ever seen him, and even though there’s a pit of fear in Eddie’s stomach, he persists.

“And we all know about how you stayed behind to be interrogated, and tortured and damn near killed by those Russians.” Eddie’s almost yelling now, tears sparking his own eye as he gestures to Steve in anger, in outrage, in pain and love and everything else that’s swirling in his carved out chest like a hurricane.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie screams, finally breaking. His throat hurts. “You think those people don’t care about you?” he yells, gesturing aimlessly toward the door. “You think we don’t love you?”

He’s panting, almost numb with adrenaline and rage. His vision is blurry, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of the anger or if he’s crying. He ignores it.

“You have no right to lecture me on this when you and I both know you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.”

And then Steve’s hand is grasping the front of Eddie’s shirt, and the breath is knocked from Eddie’s lungs as his back slams into the wall so hard he thinks it might be dented. He gasps for breath, and Steve’s face is too close to his, and this close he can see specks of green in his eyes, and he can see every tear that’s clinging to his eyelashes. And even when he’s radiating anger, he’s the most beautiful man Eddie’s ever seen.

“You gonna hit me, Stevie?” Eddie says even though he still can’t really breathe. Steve doesn’t say anything. His fist is gripping Eddie’s shirt so tightly it might rip, his knuckles pressing into Eddie’s chest so hard it hurts.

Eddie’s never been good at knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

“You don’t get to be angry at me,” he says quietly, almost breathing the words. “Not when we’re exactly the same.”

Steve’s knuckles press even harder.

His lip is trembling, and Eddie’s eyes flick across his face, at his glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks, and the moles spotting his skin like stars, and he kisses him.

He pulls away just as quickly as he leaned in, his body flooding with heat as he realises what he’s just done, but Steve’s face doesn’t change. Still angry, seething, and the world is on fire, crushed under tidal waves and hurricanes and God’s wrath, and it’s Eddie’s fault. His eyes sting like there are chemicals in them, and he breathes out a soft shit before he tries to shove past Steve to escape before he can die.

Of course he’d survive this long, survive being beaten by a drunk before his bones were done growing, survive being the target of a witch hunt by townspeople with guns, survive being eaten alive by demonic bats, only to die untouched. Because he kissed a boy without thinking.

But Steve’s hand tightens on Eddie’s shirt, and he pushes Eddie back against the wall roughly. Eddie whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, flinching, and a few seconds pass before something presses to his forehead. He opens his eyes hesitantly.

Steve’s eyes are closed, his forehead on Eddie’s, and his hand releases the fabric of his shirt, his palm pressing, fingers spreading over Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s eyes burn, and he inhales sharply, trying desperately not to cry. His hands are hanging by his sides, trembling.

Steve pulls away after a moment, and all the anger is gone from his face. His eyes are almost closed, still glassy, and he looks exhausted, like he’s going to fall apart. But his hand is still steady on Eddie, pressed firmly.

“Don’t think I’m not still mad at you,” Steve says so quietly the words almost get lost in the sound of the rain.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes.

Steve leans in and kisses him.

Softly, chastely, just barely catching his lower lip. Eddie can’t tell if his heart is even beating anymore, and his hands raise hesitantly as Steve does it again, slowly slowly slowly moving to touch Steve’s waist. His sweater is soft.

Steve’s other hand lifts and holds Eddie’s cheek so gently he can barely feel it on the mangled, sensitive skin of the ragged scar. And then their breaths are mixing as Steve presses his open mouth Eddie’s, and his tongue is slipping across Eddie’s lip and into his mouth. Eddie leans against the wall, his hands tightening on Steve’s waist, as his knees weaken.

The kiss doesn’t last long, because Steve is crying. Gasping for breath, holding Eddie tighter. Squeezing his eyes shut. Falling against Eddie.

Eddie slides his hands to Steve’s back, holding him close. His throat tightens, and he closes his eyes, suppressing a sob as he feels Steve’s shoulders shake.

“Don’t be mad,” Eddie says weakly, his voice wobbling, too high, too thin. Steve lifts his head, looking at him desperately.

“I can’t not be mad at you, Eddie,” he says. His voice is the same as Eddie’s. There are tears on his cheeks. Eddie wipes them away. “You lied to me,” he chokes. “You lied to me.” His hand curls into a fist that hits Eddie’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says softly, moving a hand to hold Steve’s fist against himself. Steve falls against him, his face in Eddie’s neck, and Eddie wraps his arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist, pulling him away from the wall, so tight that Eddie gasps, and he sobs loudly, trembling.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, crying, and he slides down the wall, holding Steve to himself tightly, and Steve is wailing into Eddie’s neck, sobbing and shaking and gripping Eddie so hard he’ll probably bruise. Eddie’s back is to the wall, his arms around Steve’s neck, his face buried in his hair. He’s getting it wet with his tears, but it doesn’t really matter. His own hair is still wet from the rain.

Eddie is still apologising. He doesn’t even think Steve can understand him, because his own voice is so broken and tear soaked, and because Steve is sobbing like a child.

I lost you.

“No, you didn’t,” Eddie manages to say, shifting so his mouth is by Steve’s ear. “I’m right here, I’m okay.”

Steve cries into Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s skin is wet with his tears. The collar of his shirt is probably soaked. But he doesn’t care.

Steve’s sobbing turns into that awful hiccuping gasping sort of crying, and Eddie pulls away enough to kiss his forehead and hold his face.

“‘M right here,” he murmurs. There are tears in his own face that ignores.

Steve is leaning against him, his legs sprawled on the kitchen floor, and Eddie tugs him closer, wiping away his tears.

But Steve doesn’t ignore Eddie’s tears. He messily wipes them away before he clutches to Eddie’s face, his other hand grasping Eddie’s forearm tightly. His chest is rising and falling with every quick, gasping breath, and Eddie swallows his own tears as he looks at him, at his rosy, tear-streaked cheeks and running nose and chapped lips, and he wonders how long Steve’s been holding this all back.

“I’m here, Stevie.”

Steve looks at him. His eyes are glassy and exhausted again. Eddie wants him to go to sleep. Preferably in Eddie’s arms.

“Thirteen days, Eddie,” Steve says weakly. His voice rasps, dry and overused, and it sends a knife through Eddie’s heart.

“I know,” he breathes. “‘M sorry, Stevie.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his breathing finally slows, reaching to find Eddie’s wrist, and Eddie feels lightheaded when Steve’s fingers press into his pulse.

It’s not until Steve’s breathing is slow that Eddie finally detaches them, helps Steve up, and gets him a glass of water. After Steve gulps it all down, Eddie stretches the sleeve of his shirt over his fingers and steps closer to Steve, touching chin and using his sleeve to wipe his skin, under his nose and eyes and over his cheeks.

Steve’s eyes close, and he sways with the movements until Eddie’s hand pulls at his shoulder, and he falls against Eddie, exhaling heavily.

“‘M sorry,” Steve says softly after a few moments. His hands slide over Eddie’s waist.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Eddie murmurs, because the last thing he wants is Steve feeling like he can’t cry in front of Eddie.

“No, I was mean,” Steve says, almost whining, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he might start crying again. Eddie touches his cheek. “I was angry, I should have— I should have talked to you, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie breathes, his voice accompanied by the quiet rumble of thunder outside.

“No, it’s not,” Steve says weakly, his hands gripping Eddie’s shirt. “‘S not okay, Eddie.”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie says, sighing and brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek softly. “You were an asshole. I forgive you.”

Steve’s eyes close and he falls forward, his forehead pressing to the side of Eddie’s neck, and Eddie threads his fingers through Steve’s hair gently.

“God, I missed you,” he says softly. “How’d I miss you so much?”

Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist tightly. Eddie brushes through his hair.

“Stay,” Steve says softly, his breath warm in Eddie’s neck. “Don’t want you to go.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. His body aches.

“I won’t go, Stevie.”

Carefully, hesitantly, he shifts and reaches down to Steve’s legs, tugging at his thighs until Steve exhales and nods, moving his arms to wrap around his neck. Eddie picks him up easily, smiling when Steve’s legs wrap around his hips, and Steve clings to him desperately as Eddie moves out of the kitchen, following the hallway until he finds the unreasonably large living room. He slowly lowers Steve to the sofa and then he lowers himself on top of Steve when Steve’s grip on him doesn’t relax.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathes after a few moments. Eddie shifts to press a kiss to his neck.

“I know. Me too.” He pauses for a moment, then moves so his cheek rests on Steve’s chest. “I meant it, you know.”

“Meant what?”

Eddie hesitates, moving a hand to press to Steve’s chest in front of his face, feeling the soft knit of his sweater.

“We love you.”

Steve’s arms tighten, and Eddie feels his chest rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.

“You know we love you too, right?” Steve says softly. Lightning flashes outside, far away and soft. Eddie closed his eyes, pressing his hand to his chest.

“Kinda unbelievable,” he says quietly. Thunder rumbles.

“‘S true,” Steve says. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

Eddie presses his face into his chest, inhaling. He smells like laundry detergent and cologne, and like something that oddly familiar. Nostalgic. Eddie inhales again.

“Did you visit while I was under?” he asks quietly. Steve sighs.

“Could barely keep me away,” he say softly. “Worst thirteen days of my fucking life.” He takes a breath, sliding a hand to press over Eddie’s on his chest. He’s so warm. “Just held your hand ‘nd waited.”

Eddie laces their fingers, squeezing.

“Left to the bathroom in the hospital to clean your rings,” Steve says, his voice thin. Eddie opens his eyes. “The lights kept flickering, and I didn’t even care, I just… needed to clean them.”

Eddie lifts his head and looks down at him, his throat tight.

“That was you?”

Steve nods, his eyes shining as he looks up at him. His hair has fallen around his head like a halo. His cheeks are still rose, his eyelashes dark with tears like he’s wearing makeup.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of you… waking up with blood on your rings,” he says softly, one of his hands combing through Eddie’s curls that have fallen like curtains. “I don’t know. ‘S kinda dumb in the grand scheme of things.”

Eddie shakes his head, sniffling as his eyes burn.

“It’s not dumb, Stevie,” he says shakily. Steve’s fingers press to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Steve smiles softly, weakly, touching Eddie’s hair, and a tear falls from Eddie’s eye to Steve’s cheek, near his mouth. A soft laugh escapes Steve, and Eddie apologises, smiling, watching Steve blur. He starts to shift to wipe the tear away from Steve’s skin, but Steve beats him to it, wiping the tear with the tip of his middle finger before he brings the finger to his own lips, licking the tear off. Eddie scoffs.

“And they call me the freak.”

Steve smiles. His eyes are shining too.

“Kiss me,” he breathes.

Eddie leans down and kisses him. He can taste the salt of his own tear in his mouth, and he tilts his head to kiss him deeper, groaning softly. Steve’s hands spread over his back, holding him so their bodies press together completely, before they slide to hold his head, his fingers curling into his hair.

The sound of rain outside fades like it’s being muffled as Eddie kisses him, as he listens to the quiet, weak noises escaping Steve’s throat, to the slick slide of their tongues, to their heavy breathing. He presses his fingers into Steve’s neck, feeling his blood rushing, his heart beating beneath his skin. Steve whimpers, and Eddie pulls away to look at him, at his screwed-shut eyes, his furrowed brows.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers.

Steve sniffs, opening his glistening eyes, and he pulls Eddie into a hug desperately, his face in Eddie’s neck as Eddie pushes a hand into his hair, closing his eyes.

“I was so scared,” Steve chokes, holding him tightly. “I thought you were gone.”

“No, I’m right here,” Eddie whispers, tugging his hair, kissing his jaw. “‘M not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

It slips out, but Eddie doesn’t try to take it back. He doesn’t regret it. Especially not when Steve takes a shuddering breath and turns his head enough to kiss Eddie’s temple.

Eddie falls asleep with his face in Steve’s neck, breathing on his skin as he lays in top of him, their legs tangled together. Steve’s hand is holding Eddie’s throat in a way that makes his knees feel weak, his fingertips pressed into his pulse, and Eddie is holding his sweater in loose fists.

“Oh, fucking finally.”

They startle awake simultaneously, gasping and trying to sit up, and Steve fingers tighten around Eddie’s throat before he quickly lets go. Eddie shifts, trying untangle from him, squinting in the bright morning sunlight, his body aching.

“Fucking Christ, Robin, why?” Steve exclaims, his voice rough with sleep, rubbing his face as Eddie leans back, groaning loudly.

“We all thought we’d have to live in your silent treatment for the rest of our lives,” she says dramatically, and Eddie watches her, still squinting, as she moves around the sofa to collapse onto his and Steve’s legs. “So you guys talked?”

“More like screamed and cried,” Steve says, shifting, pulling his legs away to lean against the armrest of the sofa. She sits cross-legged, looking at them. “But yeah.”

Eddie shifts to lean against him, closing his eyes against the light. He’s never been a morning person, and still isn’t today. Especially when he was sleeping so peacefully, on Steve’s warm body. Eddie probably has the knit of his sweater pressed into his cheek like a print.

“Sounds like quite a night.”

Steve’s hand presses into Eddie’s hair as he hums softly, and Eddie exhales, relaxing against him. He could fall asleep again.

“You had quite a night too, didn’t you?” Steve asks, his voice almost suspicious, and Eddie smiles against him, moving closer. He loves how Steve as Robin can read each other’s minds like this. How they can take one glance at each other and just know whatever there is to know. Steve pulls at Eddie’s legs so he’s sitting across his lap, and Eddie tucks his face back into his neck.

“Uh. I mean—”

“Oh, shit,” Steve says. Eddie can hear his smile in his voice. “V?”

“Uhm.”

Eddie lifts his head, brows furrowed in confusion, but Nancy appears in the doorway, carrying a tote bag like a baby. Her eyes find Eddie and Steve cuddled up on the sofa, and she exhales roughly.

“Oh, fucking finally.”

Steve looks sharply at Robin, eyes wide, and her face flushes with colour.

Oh.

“Finally what, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, ignoring Robin and Steve.

“You guys were becoming insufferable. You talked?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank God.” She steps up behind the sofa to look at Robin, whose gaze softens when it lands on her. “You gonna help?”

“Help with what?” Steve questions.

“My mom’s using the kitchen, so we’re making cookies here.”

Steve makes a face.

“Why do you always use my kitchen?”

“Because it’s nice,” Nancy says. “Duh. Robbie, come in.”

“Robbie?” Steve whispers as Nancy leaves, and Robin shoots him a look, scrambling to follow Nancy to the kitchen.

“So,” Steve says when she’s gone. Eddie presses his face into his neck.

“‘S too fuckin’ early.”

Steve laughs softly, running a hand down Eddie’s leg, squeezing his thigh gently. Eddie kisses his neck softly. There’s a clatter in the kitchen, and Robin laughs.

“Hey,” Steve says after a moment, rubbing his leg.

“Mm.” He lifts his head when Steve doesn’t say anything, and he shifts to look at him. “What?” he asks softly.

Steve gazes at him for a moment, holding his leg with one hand as the other touches his cheek and then tucks his hair behind his ear. Eddie moves to straddle his hips, holding his shoulders and looking at him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” Steve says quietly.

“I yelled at you too.”

Steve scoffs, playing with the ends of Eddie’s hair.

“I yelled at you first.”

Eddie pauses.

“Not… really.”

Steve just laughs lightly, closing his eyes and falling forward so his forehead presses to Eddie’s chest, just under his collarbone.

“Can you let me apologise, please?”

“Ugh, fine.”

Steve lifts his head and presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s chin. No one’s ever kissed Eddie there.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday,” Steve says softly. “And I’m sorry for being mean.”

Eddie touches his cheek, almost petting it.

“I won’t yell at you again,” Steve says softly, firmly. “Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Mm.”

“What if I’m being an asshole?”

“Then I will very calmly tell you that you’re being an asshole.”

Eddie giggles softly, hiding his face in Steve’s neck, and Steve wraps his arms around him tightly. Eddie sighs, settling into his arms.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

“Will you— Steve.” Steve laughs softly, tightening his arms. “Come on, man.”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. Like… as soon as I walked into your house. That wasn’t fair.”

He lifts his head and touches their foreheads together, holding Steve’s face in his hands.

“I won’t yell at you ever again.”

“Not even when I’m being an asshole?”

“No,” Eddie says, laughing softly. “I’ll very calmly tell you you’re being an asshole.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers.

Steve tugs at Eddie’s waist, lifting his chin up wordlessly, and Eddie smiles at him before he presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve murmurs when they part, his lips brushing Eddie’s.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, holding his cheeks so they squish a little bit. “King Steve falling for the freak. What would your loyal subjects think?”

“Who gives a shit?” Steve breathes, and something shifts inside Eddie.

“Fuck, I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

Steve smiles brightly, his eyes squeezing shut, and Eddie is free-falling off a cliff. He leans in and kisses him.

“How do you take coffee?” Steve asks quietly when they part, breathless.

Eddie kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip, smiling.

“Milk and sugar,” he murmurs against his mouth before kissing him again, holding his cheeks. Steve smiles against his mouth, his hands spreading across his waist before he slides one to the small of his back.

“Let me make you coffee,” Steve says.

Eddie groans softly, pressing his face into Steve’s neck again. He likes it here.

“Wanna go to bed.”

“Come on,” Steve says, laughing quietly, squeezing Eddie’s waist. “The girls are making cookies, maybe we can steal some dough.”

“Isn’t that unhealthy?” Eddie asks dryly.

“Kids eat cookie dough.”

“You’re saying I’m a kid?”

“‘M saying neither of us got to be kids for very long,” Steve says softly, and oh. Eddie kisses his forehead because he can’t kiss his mind. “Let’s go steal some cookie dough.”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, but he doesn’t move, instead leaning down to kiss him softly, tenderly.

There’s a dash of flour on the top of Robin’s nose when they finally go into the kitchen. She and Steve exchange a look as Steve heads over to find the coffee.

“Why are you making cookies?” Eddie asks, hopping up onto the kitchen island to watch as Robin cracks an egg into the bowl Nancy’s mixing. “Is there a special occasion?”

“The Party’s coming over tonight for a movie night,” Nancy says. Steve turns around.

“What? Why?”

“Because your living room’s huge.”

“You guys keep making plans in my house without even telling me,” Steve mumbles, but Nancy points the whisk at him.

“Our house.”

He makes a face at her.

“Steve, is it cool if I smoke weed in our kitchen?” Eddie asks, and Steve rolls his eyes, but he smiles softly.

“Only if you share.”

“Cool.”

He comes back with two joints and sticks one in Robin’s mouth as she’s cracking another egg, both of them holding still as he lights it for her.

“Thanks, Edster.”

“Ew.”

He sits on the island again, taking a slow drag as he watches Steve make the coffee, find the milk in the fridge and the sugar in a cabinet, watching the way he steps over the tile like he’s about to fall into a dance. He brings a mug over to Eddie when it’s finished and sets it down next to him.

“‘S hot.”

“You know what else is hot?” Eddie says without thinking, and Steve snorts, moving to stand between Eddie’s legs so the insides of his thighs press to his waist.

“What?” Steve asks, looking up at him, smiling easily, sliding his hands over Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie’s cheeks flush even though he’s the one technically flirting.

“…Nothing.”

“Mhmm.” Steve’s eyes are shining gleefully, like he knows exactly how he’s affecting Eddie. He jerks his chin up at the joint. “Gimme a hit.” But he doesn’t move his hands to take it.

So Eddie takes a long drag, taking Steve’s chin in his fingers, and then he leans down, brushing Steve’s lip with his thumb so Steve opens his mouth. His eyes flutter shut as Eddie blows the smoke into his mouth, and Eddie smiles.

He hears Robin giggle as he’s gazing at Steve, watching the smoke drift out of his mouth slowly, and he looks past Steve to find her and Nancy standing together, trying to muffle their laughter in each other’s shoulders.

“Are you guys watching us?” Eddie asks, and Steve blinks his eyes open. Eddie runs a hand through his hair mindlessly.

“We can’t not,” Nancy says as Robin giggles again, taking a drag. “You just… command the space.”

Eddie sticks his tongue out at her. She sticks her tongue out at him. Steve pulls Eddie into a kiss. Robin squeals. Steve flips her off without looking.

Nancy lets them have some cookie dough, but only after Robin rants to them about the dangers of salmonella poisoning. Steve leans against the counter between Eddie legs and holds up the spoon for him while Eddie holds the joint down for him.

Nancy procures a polaroid camera as if by magic. She probably just had it in the tote bag. Eddie is paying a ton of attention to her at the moment. He into notices the camera when there’s a flash of light, and she lowers it to reveal a grin. The photo goes on the fridge.

The weed smell is gone by the time the kids there in the evening, all piled into Argyle’s van, very unsafely but they’re all grinning and giggling when they stumble out. They all let out similar groans when they see Eddie‘s arm around Steve.

Thank God.

Jesus, finally.

Did you finally talk?

Are you guys friends now?

That’s Eleven. Eddie likes Eleven.

“Something like that,” he says to her, and her face lights up.

“Alright, everyone go inside,” Steve says, ignoring them all. His cheeks are pink. “It’s gonna rain again.”

As they’re headed inside, Eddie comes up behind Erica and scoops her up, holding her upside down over his back as she screams and laughs, hitting him.

When Eddie turn around, swinging her, Steve is watching with a smile that’s different than any smile he’s ever seen on him. Happy, but something more than that.

Content.

The kids all pile up on the sofa before the movie starts, bickering and arguing about who gets to sit where, who gets which blanket. Erica tells Dustin to move his legs because he’s touching her, and he throws his legs across her lap to be obnoxious. Lucas ends up between Max and Eleven, his arms around both of them. Will sets a leg over Mike’s leg. Nancy and Robin take residence on the smaller sofa, sitting close together despite the space on it, and Jonathan and Argyle sit on the floor against the sofa. Robin plays with Argyle’s hair.

Eddie waits until Steve is done attending to everyone, passing out soda cans and napkins and cookies and chips, rustling their hair and bopping their faces affectionately just to be annoying. And then he corners him in the kitchen, quiet as the movie starts in the other room.

He pushes Steve against a counter, and they’re kissing before he can even say anything, his hands on Steve’s waist, Steve’s hands on his face, over the scar on his cheek. Eddie tilts his head, letting his lips part, squeezing his waist, the softness above his waistband. Steve exhales sharply when they part, smiling.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods. There’s something lingering on his face, in his eyes. “What is it?”

Steve hesitates, tucking Eddie’s hair behind his ears.

“I don’t…” He stops, biting his lip as he gazes at Eddie. The room is dim, softly lit up by the light from the hallway. “It feels like… like something’s missing.”

“What’s missing?” Eddie asks, tilting his head, his thumbs running back and forth.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers, his eyes trained on Eddie’s mouth almost absently, like he’s zoning out. “But it’s… it’s good that it’s gone. Like it was never supposed to be there, and then it was, and now it’s gone, and I…” He takes a slow breath, his chest rising and falling. “Feel like I can finally breathe.”

“Are you happy?” Eddie whispers.

“Yeah.” Steve says it like he’s just realising it, blinking and looking into Eddie’s eyes. “I’m really happy.”

Eddie smiles, reaching up to touch his face.

“Are you?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie blinks, his smile falling. And he thinks.

Feels Steve’s warm hands on his face, their legs twined. Listens to the muffled movie in the living room, the rain outside. Knows that almost everyone he loves is under the same roof. Safe.

“Yeah.” He looks at Steve. “I’m happy.”

Steve’s finger presses under his chin.

“We’re the same,” he breathes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, smiling. “We are.”

Steve closes the distance between them to kiss him again, his teeth catching his lip carefully, his hands spreading over Eddie’s neck and cheek, covering his scars like he’s keeping them safe.

When they pull away, Eddie tugs him into a hug.

They squeeze onto the sofa next to Robin and Nancy afterwards, and Steve is smiling the whole time, squished between Eddie and Robin. Robin sets a leg over his, and Eddie sees him reach down to squeeze her tight gently before he elbows her against Nancy. After a minute, Steve pulls at Eddie’s hand, and Eddie looks away from the television to look at him, about to ask if he’s okay.

But Steve wordlessly pulls at Eddie’s arm so he’s lifting it over his head, and Eddie sets his arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. Steve leans against Eddie’s chest, a hand set on his leg. He squeezes when Eddie starts to play with his hair, and Eddie feels him fall asleep after a minute, heavy against him, his shoulders rising and falling steadily with every breath.

He sighs, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair as gently as he can, tilting his head to look at him, but he can’t see his face. So he just sighs again and presses a lingering kiss to the top of his head.

He looks up across the room, scanning over all the kids. Eleven is asleep against Lucas, an arm over his stomach, and Max is holding Lucas’s hand that’s by her shoulder, squeezing his fingers. Erica’s brows are furrowed in concentration as she watches the movie.

Will is looking back at him.

Or rather, Eddie realises after a moment when the television screen changes, brightening, he’s looking at Steve. At Steve sleeping against Eddie’s chest, holding his thigh, at Eddie’s fingers in his hair. Will is smiling, looking almost curiously, and his smile grows when his eyes meet Eddie’s.

Eddie jerks his chin up at him, gesturing vaguely, silently at Mike next to him, and Will looks away, at Mike. He seems to hesitate, looking back at the television, biting his lip, and then he finally lets his head fall to Mike’s shoulder. Mike smiles at the tv, and after a moment his head falls to rest on Will’s. Will’s eyes close.

Eddie sighs, shifting to settle into the sofa. Steve nuzzles into his chest, a soft noise escaping him, and Eddie runs his hand through his hair again, closing his eyes and listening to the rain.

#guys i really love angst you dont understand #i have a problem #this follows basically the exact same plot as another one of my fics and i am aware #i just have a hc that steve would be pissed at eddie for not running #so #anyway #drink some water <3 feed yourself <3 take your meds <3 be nice to yourself <3 love you <3 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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httpiastri · 1 month

Text

sleeping patterns – cn34

nights filled with endless crying and screaming take a toll on clement's confidence.

genre: fluff, slight comfort/angst ig

pairing: young dad!clem x young mom!reader

warnings: none

author’s note: aaaaaaaaaaa im so soft for clem and ive had such an insane baby fever recently. i miss him sm :(( he would be such a good dad, i just know it

f2/f3 masterlist

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the big, red numbers of your electric clock on the bedside table tell you it's only 3am, a frustrated huff passing through your lips when your eyes slowly open. it takes a while for you to realize what's waking you up – but then it makes so much sense.

the soft cries on the other side of the baby monitor sting like a knife in your heart, and you're fully awake in a matter of seconds. you're just about to push yourself up to a sitting position when the bed dips next to you. after turning around, you find your boyfriend already jumping out of bed. "i'll get her."

"are you sure?" you ask, voice creaky after several hours of not speaking.

clement nods, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "go back to sleep," he hums, and just like that, he has waddled through the door to your nursery.

the sad truth is that your little one hasn't been progressing with her sleep as much as she should. she had a period of almost sleeping through the nights about a month ago, but then you were hit with the four-month regression. she's almost five months old now, and still, you have issues with sudden wakeups in the middle of the night. as much as you adore every second you get to spend with her, you just wish you could get one full night of sleep sometime.

you know you won't be able to fall asleep until clement is back, you never can. but it's not because you're worried; in fact, there's not a single piece of concern on your mind over it. you know that he has mastered the cradling-cooing-bouncing sequence by now. and sure enough, your daughter's cries grow lighter and lighter, until the only sound that can be heard from the monitor is the ones of soft steps and hushed whispers.

but something feels off. even when the apartment is completely silent, clement doesn't come back to bed.

it's very strange. he fell asleep once in the rocking chair in the nursery, but complained about his back aching for a week afterwards and promised that he would never put himself through that again.

the moonlight peeking through the poorly shut blinds in the nursery casts a shadow across clement's profile when you step inside. despite how dark it is, you can see every little toy on the floor and every detail of the little race car-themed mobile that dangles above the crib clearly. you're way too used to being in here at night.

clement has put your daughter back down into her crib by now, and his hands are wrapped around the railing as he leans over it, looking down at her. he doesn't react when you come closer, and he doesn't move a muscle even when you place your hand on his shoulder. it's easy to understand that something is bothering him.

"what's on your mind?"

he turns to you and lets out a tiny exhale, as if it was a struggle for him to snap himself out of his thoughts. he shakes his head. "it's nothing."

"tell me," you press, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.

"well, i…" he squeezes his eyes shut. "i'm kind of freaking out. it's been over four months, and… i still haven't adjusted."

"honey," you start, your hand moving to the back of his neck. "where is this coming from? so suddenly?"

"i don't know," he says with a sigh. "you've seen me lately, i've barely been able to fall asleep at all."

he opens his eyes again and gazes down into the crib, eyes softening once they land on the little bundle of love resting so peacefully. he follows the way her chest rises with her breaths, her slightly pouting lips, her tiny fists that are wrapped around her blankie.

"it feels like i'm the only one who's struggling. you're such a natural, you're doing so much better with her, while i just feel… hopeless."

you don't want to interrupt him – clement doesn't often speak about his deeper feelings, so now that he's finally going, you don't wish to stop his flow – but you have to say something. "i think you're doing really well."

"you actually think so?" he asks. though his gaze doesn't move an inch, he can still see you nodding in the corner of his eye. he takes a deep breath. "i've heard people say that new fathers go through things… that it takes time, that it takes patience- and i've tried to be patient, i really have. but…"

he finally looks at you, and his heart breaks slightly at the sight of your uneasy expression, the tension in your eyebrows and your worried eyes. he hates being the one to make you feel like this.

"i just can't get rid of this constant anxiety. it feels like i'm always stressing over something. over you, over her, over everything."

you relate to every word he says. being this young, you feel like you're stumbling through darkness most of the time, not knowing what to do. it's frankly a guessing game, with mostly correct guesses mixed with some bad ones, since neither of you have any prior parenting experiences. even though he may not see it or know it, you're going through the same things as him.

no one had expected for you to get pregnant at this age, and no one – not even the two of you – had expected for you and clement to actually keep the baby. and sometimes, way more often than you'd thought before, your youth and inexperience has been catching up with you.

it's hard, but at least you have each other.

you step closer, draping your arms around his shoulders in an instant. "it's alright," you whisper into the skin of his neck, your nose filling with that scent that's just so him, and you finally relax a bit. his hands find your waist, fingers caressing your sides through the flimsy material of your nightgown. "it's okay to feel like this. i do, too. i think… all new parents must feel it." you give his neck a soft kiss. "but they all get through it, don't they? and so will we."

he stays silent for a while before he nods slowly. "it's all just so… intimidating. i don't want to mess anything up."

"and you won't." you pull away slightly to look into his eyes. "i trust you fully, and-"

you're interrupted mid-sentence, the sound of your daughter stirring in her crib taking clement's attention away from you as he glances towards her. you see his adam's apple bob as she begins to whine, her fists clenching and face scrunching up. "should- can i take her?" he asks tentatively, hands trembling slightly on your sides.

you nod not even a second later, stepping out of his embrace to give him no excuse to hold back. "go for it."

clement had bought every parenting guidebook he could find, and read every website with tips for new parents on the entire internet – and yet, nothing had prepared him for this nervousness that he's experiencing so often. he knew it wouldn't be smooth sailing all the way, but he hadn't expected to feel this uncertain in everything he does. even in the way that he picks his daughter out of her crib, he feels anxious that he's doing something wrong.

however, the second she feels her father's presence, it's far from the story that his anxiety has been making up for him. she lets out one last soft cry before, as if out of habit, nuzzling her face into his skin.

while clement has been struggling this whole time, you can't help but notice that she settles easily into his arms. like she belongs there; like she knows that he'll take care of her.

because he always does.

"see?" you say, letting a finger run along the curve of her cheek as you smile down at her. "that's not so bad, is it? you're doing so well."

considering all the difficulties he's faced, hearing these kind words of appreciation from you gives him comfort in a way that few other feelings can compare to. his gaze is still glued to your daughter, the precious little baby that is his entire world. well, half of his world – the other half is standing right next to him. "i love her, you know," he says softly. "even if she doesn't know it yet, i do. so much."

"i think she knows," you answer, watching as your boyfriend cradles her against his bare chest. he has loved the skin-on-skin contact since day one, and you're sure she does, too; her gentle babbling is always a sure sign that she's completely content. you can't hold back from smiling. "and she loves you just as much."

"sometimes i just can't believe that she's ours. that we made her." his eyes meet yours, nothing but pure love in them. "isn't it strange?"

"strange that we've done something good for once?"

he answers your tease by sticking out his tongue, nudging your shoulder with his, though gently enough to not bother the little one in his arms.

"come on, let's go back to bed," you say, leaning in to press your lips gently to the back of her head. "one night of co-sleeping can't be the entire world, can it?"

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula one #formula two #formula 2 #elms #european le mans series #clement novalak #fluff #angst #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #imagine #scenario #fanfic #fic #romance

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lotties-ashwagandha · 10 months

Text

POLAROIDS

pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

word count: 705

notes: this ended rlly abruptly and is short but ive been sick and im on my period so im a bit out of it rn . also not proofread

summary: you find old pictures of you and lottie when you were in high school, and she reminds you of how bad you played the long game with her. requested by @may-z3 <333

You sat on the floor, next to where the spilled pile of pictures laid, and dug through them. There were years worth of them, most of them random shots you’d taken during Lottie’s soccer games but many of them also pictures with each other that you’d made Shauna and Jackie take during sleepovers or when you went out for pizza after games. There were also a few candids of Lottie that you’d snuck, and looking back at them you resisted a laugh — if only you’d known then that all these years later you’d still be with her, that you would wake up with her every morning and go to bed with her each night.

There were even a few pictures of the two of you post-crash. There were less of them than the ones before, and it was obvious how much the two of you had been struggling when you took them, but they were beautiful nonetheless.

A knock at the open door caught your attention, and you turned to see Lottie leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a soft smile. She was radiant, as she always was, clad in her dark blue caftan, her dark hair hanging over her shoulders and down her back in heavenly waves.

“What are you looking at?” She asked, her voice like honey as she approached you and sat on her knees on the floor at your side.

“I was trying to clean the closet for once, and all of these fell out,” you said, and handed her a few pictures of the two of you by the field at one of her soccer games. “Most of them are before the crash, and they’re so…” you trailed off, nostalgia overcoming you, and you reached for her hand.

Lottie picked up another picture and giggled, and when you reached for it she hid it to her chest, shaking her head. “No, you can’t have this one.”

“Why not? What is it?”

“I took it,” she said, but she wouldn’t provide any explanation.

“Lottie,” you asked suspiciously, failing to suppress a smile, “what is the picture?”

She didn’t respond, and your jaw dropped.

“Is it dirty?” You asked, and her eyes widened.

“No!” She urged, shaking her head. “God, your mind is horrible, no, it’s not dirty. I got pissed at you one night when we were at a sleepover at Shauna’s and I… I painted your face while you were asleep. Just a little. But then Lara Lee made me take it off.”

“What the fuck?” You asked, your tone light, and you snatched the picture. In it you were laying in a sleeping bag in Shauna’s room, and the words I LOVE STINKY ASSHOLES had been painted on your face in what appeared to be red lipstick. “Oh my god,” you breathed, not sure whether you were going to laugh or cry, and beside you Lottie turned red.

“I was mad because you weren’t going to prom, and I didn’t have the courage to ask you to go with me,” Lottie explained, her embarrassment obvious. “But in my defense, I was getting incredibly mixed signals with you long gaming me.”

“Oh, I was not long gaming you!” You laughed, shaking your head. “I was just terrified that you’d reject me.”

She gave you a dubious look, raising her eyebrows. “It’s the same thing.”

“In any case, I won in the end,” you said. “So even if I was playing the long game with you, it worked out pretty well.”

“Don’t make me paint your face again in your sleep.”

“I feel like that’s an empty threat,” you decided, handing her back the picture of you with your face painted. “You can keep that picture, though, if you want to reflect on your past victory.”

“Oh, I’ll be framing it,” she smirked. “I’ll put it on the dresser so you can see it every morning.”

#lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 months

Text

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter Two: Tresses

Jason struggled wordlessly as the hospital's nurses tried to restrain him. He felt weak and dizzy, but he had to escape. "Let him go! Let him go! I've got him!" Bruce hollered, "It's okay." He grabbed Jason by the shoulders, and Jason sat still, hyperventilating as tears fell from his eyes. "Look at me. It's alright. I know this is scary, and I know you don't know where you are, but I need you to stop fighting them." Jason couldn't remember anything or anyone, but he knew that Bruce was safe. Jason lay back down and let the nurses put the soft restraints on. Dick stood a ways back, watching. Bruce let Jason hold onto his fingers. "Bruce," Dick whispered. Bruce pushed Jason's curls out of his face. "Bruce," Dick raised his voice. "What?" Bruce snapped. "He's awake? He's really awake," Dick whispered. Jason looked around the room and back at Bruce. "It's gonna be alright," Bruce whispered while a nurse gave Jason a sedative. "You're gonna go to sleep, but I'll be here when you wake up... I'm not going anywhere." Jason sank into the bed and relaxed. Bruce pulled Jason's blankets back up, and he took a deep breath. Bruce waited until the nurses were gone to speak to Dick. "Why don't I feel at ease?" Bruce asked. "Because it's real... He's really awake," Dick mumbled, "I'm gonna try to find him something to wear. I don't think he's gonna fit any of his old stuff." Bruce grabbed Dick's wrist. "Can you bring me something from Jason's room?" Bruce asked. Dick nodded, and Bruce whispered the words in his ear.

Dick nodded, and he was gone. Jason lay fast asleep for hours, and Bruce sat up, keeping watch. Tim came in through the window in his Robin costume. "He woke up... Jason woke up?" Tim asked. Bruce nodded. "You shouldn't—." "I know, I'm just here to drop off a gift. I've been carrying it around with me just in case Jason woke up... And he did. You gonna tell him?" Tim asked as he sat in the window. "I don't even know how much he understands... But I'll tell him when the time comes," Bruce whispered. Tim looked at Jason and cocked his head. "What?" "His hair... You can't even tell he's got a scar anymore," Tim whispered. Bruce tensed. "Sorry... I'll go—." "No, it's alright... I didn't want his hair cut while he was still-. I mean, I'll probably have it cut if that's what he wants," Bruce mumbled, "You know, I'm not gonna take this from you." "It's not up to you, B, but thanks," Tim replied before leaving out the window. Bruce frowned. Bruce sat with Jason in silence until the sun came up, and Jason woke up again. He tried to move his arms in the restraints, and he whimpered. "No, no, it's okay. It's alright," Bruce reassured him, "Here, you want me to let you loose?" Jason's breathing was quick and shallow as he started to cry. Jason looked at Bruce, and he wanted to speak, but he couldn't find words. He couldn't remember names or how he got there, but Jason could remember one thing, he hated being restrained. Bruce unbound one of Jason's hands, and as soon as his hand was free, he reached for his IV, and Bruce grabbed his hand. "No," Bruce whispered. Jason made a noise before seeing the stern look on Bruce's face. "No... I'm gonna let you out of the other one, and I'm gonna ask you a few questions. I know you're confused, so you can nod, yes or shake your head, no," Bruce explained. Jason lay back and closed his eyes while Bruce let his other arm loose. Silence fell between the two, and Jason stared at Bruce. "Do you know my name?" Jason shook his head. "Do you wanna see if the doctor will let me take you out for a little walk today when Dick gets back with your clothes?" Bruce asked. Jason didn't answer. "Do you remember your name?" Jason shook his head, and he reached for Bruce's hand. Bruce took it in his. Dick knocked on the door and entered the room. "Hey, good morning, Jason," Dick smiled. It was strange seeing Jason sitting up and looking around. Even stranger seeing his long wild curls and his big blue eyes curiously searching around the room. It was as if Jason was lost. Dick pulled a sweater out of a plastic bag. "See, I got you a few things to wear." Jason let go of Bruce's hand before he pointed to his IV. Dick nodded. "I'll wait and see if the doctors take them out... But if you're okay today, they should let you..." Bruce whispered Dick's name to Jason, and Jason nodded. Jason touched Dick's hand, and Dick let go of the sweater and shook Jason's hand. Jason didn't let go. Dick smiled uncomfortably, and Jason let go. "Do you want to see yourself?" Dick asked as he pulled out a mirror, and Jason caught a glimpse of himself. He pulled at his curls. They bounced back when he let go. "Yeah, your hair's gotten pretty long. You want it cut?" Jason shook his head. One of the nurses came in to check Jason's vitals, and he kept his eyes trained on Bruce, who had since grabbed his hand again. "Hi, Jason... I'm Nurse Mallory," she introduced herself. Jason wouldn't look at her. "Jason, can you say my name." Jason made the sound for the first letter of her name, but he couldn't push himself farther than that. Jason frowned. "That's okay." Bruce squeezed Jason's hand, and Dick made a soft noise. She asked a few other questions and gave a few commands. Jason grew agitated and shut his eyes. He wanted to tell her to stop asking him to do things. Jason just wanted to be with his people, Bruce and Dick. He didn't know them, but he knew Dick was kind and that Bruce was... safe.

#fic #phantom grin fic #batfam #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Alfred Pennyworth #Barbara Gordon #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #Jason Todd/Original Character #Canon Divergent AU #Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain #Jason Todd is Disabled #Barbara Gordon is Oracle #Resurrected Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating #Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

Text

Whumpuary Day 25-26 & 29-31

Prompts: Can’t stay awake | “You’re safe.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drugging, Overdose, Allusions to past child abuse

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You shouted, keeping your eyes on Daryl while Tomi loudly rummaged through cabinets and drawers behind you. “Daryl. Daryl, stay awake.”

“M’tired.” The archer mumbled, eyelids heavy, breaths slowing before your eyes.

“Tomi!” You snapped again.

“They injected him with some sort of opioid. I need narcan.” Things were flying around, hitting the floor as the surgeon continued his frantic search. “How’s his breathing?”

“Too slow.” You shook Daryl again. Each time he responded, you felt a short lived relief but it never lasted long. “Daryl, stay with me. Look at me.”

“Y/N…tired…”

“I know but you can’t sleep.” Those normally sharp blues were dull, his pupils contracted to barely there black dots inside the pale cerulean. His eyes closed, head lolling forward. “Daryl? Daryl!” He inhaled sharply, giving you hope that he might regain a normal breathing pattern.

He didn’t.

“Can’t…can’t stay…”

“You have to. Just for a few more minutes okay?” You hadn’t seen when the man had used the syringe, only catching Daryl yanking it from his neck to angrily toss it aside before plunging his knife through the attacker’s skull. It wasn’t even a minute before the archer staggered back against the wall and slid down to where he still sat. “Tomi!” When Daryl’s eyes closed this time, he didn’t reopen them.

“I’m trying!”

“Daryl!” His breaths were further and further apart, agonizing torture to know that one would eventually be his last.

“If he stops breathing, you need to breathe for him.”

“Al-alright.” You could do that. You placed two fingers to his neck, counting the beats over and over, witnessing that number fall each time. “Please, please.”

“Got it!” Tomi dropped down beside the archer, foregoing any measure of sterilizing to just jab the needle into the muscle of Daryl’s bicep.

“What now?”

“We wait. He never stopped breathing. The narcan should level him out enough to move him safely.” The nod you gave was curt and unbidden, your sole focus was the rise and fall of Daryl’s chest. “Okay. Okay, good. It’s picking up. I’ll get a stretcher. Keep watching his breathing.” Another nod.

“Daryl, can you hear me?” Unresponsive. At least each breath was coming in at a slow, but steady pace. You could work with that for now. The wheels of the stretcher were loud in the otherwise empty hospital.

“Vitals are stable for now. I grabbed all the narcan but we need to have access to intubation supplies and IV fluids.” At your confused expression, he added, “I’ll need to insert a tube to help him breathe for a while if he struggles to on his own.”

You nodded calmly before the two of you struggled and fumbled to get Daryl onto the stretcher. Truthfully, the thought of Daryl needing a machine to keep breathing was horrifying. For that moment, you just continued to watch his chest, breaths remaining steady and unlabored.

It took only moments for an IV to be inserted and fluids to begin running into the archer’s hand. His breathing slowed only once more and one last dose of narcan was administered.

Hours later, Tomi concluded that Daryl was out of danger and would likely wake up at any moment. So you waited, instinctively listening for danger as employees returned to the hospital, the walkers having been cleared as well as the living threats, thanks in part to the man on the bed in front of you.

You couldn’t wait to get him home and sleep for at least a day, snug against his side with your head over his heart, able to hear each beat and feel each breath.

Finally, his fingers twitched in your hold, his head rolling back and forth on the pillow, face scrunching.

“Daryl?” You stood, leaning over him. He hated hospitals. The memories of so many visits when he was a child, broken bones and open wounds at the hands of his father. You wanted to be the first person he saw and heard, in hopes of easing that anxiety.

His eyes were clouded, tired and unfocused, when they finally landed on you. “Where ‘m I?” He slurred, still appearing to be exhausted and slightly influenced by the drug working its way through his system.

“You’re in the hospital. You’re safe and you’re gonna be okay.” You squeezed his hand, smiling when he weakly reciprocated.

“Tell me what happened?” His eyes were already trying to close, most likely without his permission but leaving him with no choice.

“When you wake up. I’ll tell you everything when you wake up.”

Daryl hummed and inhaled deeply before settling into a peaceful sleep; one you didn’t fear and from which you knew he would wake. For now, though, you’d rest your head on the hand holding his and count his breaths like counting sheep until you joined him in blissful unawareness.

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topazy · 5 months

Text

In the shadows

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader

Warnings: Violence

Chapter: 1.12

The feeling of being dragged underwater is what wakes you, and when your eyes flutter open, you’re surprised to be in a hospital bed and not a pool of water. Your body, which is covered in bandages and bruises, aches. Two nurses are in the room as well, both looking concerned, but neither of them say anything.

You look around the sterile room and notice Sheriff Stilinski yelling at Jackson. At least that jackass was alright. Suddenly, all the fear comes flooding back. Peter's face flashed before your eyes, his eyes glowing red as his jaw opened, sharp fangs replacing his human teeth.

“No!” You lunge forward. “Stiles run!”

Hearing your sudden outburst and yelling his son's name, the sheriff tries to enter the room but is denied access. Your parents had gone out of town to visit friends the previous morning, so I guessed they hadn’t returned to Beacon Hills yet.

One of the nurses begins fidgeting with the IV bag, which is attached to the cannula in the back of your hand. You notice her injection has something to it. “Hey, what the hell?”

Everything quickly becomes blurry; you struggle to keep your eyes open, and when you do manage to, you instantly feel sick, noticing the walls around you keep changing. You look up and see a man in scrubs pushing your bed, with the same nurse who knocked you out beside him.

“Peter?”

Smirking, Peter pulls down the mask covering his face. “I always said you weren’t dense, Mori.”

—

“I don’t understand; explain it again.”

Peter rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve already told you the plan twice.”

“You probably shouldn’t have drugged me then.”

He puts one of his sharp claws underneath your chin and says, “Careful.”

“Stiles won’t help me hack into Scott’s laptop until he knows you’re safe and sound." His voice oozes with sarcasm. “I need both Scott and Derek to kill the Argents.”

“Scott will never help you.”

“Oh, he will.” Peter pulls out a mobile from his pocket and dials; the phone only rings for a few seconds before someone answers. “As promised, I’ve not harmed her yet.”

“𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚒, 𝙼𝚘��𝚒!”

“Stiles!”

“𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. Your cuts and bruises were beginning to heal on their own, but you were stuck alone in a room with the alpha. “I’m with Peter.”

“Time to hold up your end of the deal, Stiles.”

“𝙾𝚔𝚊𝚢, 𝚞𝚖, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚜.”

Peter smiles with a strange look in his eyes, twirling your hair around his finger while you listen to Stiles typing on a laptop through the phone.

“𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝙸𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝙳𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎.”

Peter slams the phone down, causing it to break. He seems lost in the light for a while before turning to you and running his claw along your jawline before pricking your skin just below your ear enough for it to bleed. "Fascinating." His eyes glow slightly as he watches them heal. Peter shifts his gaze to meet yours. “Did you know your brother is back in town?”

“K—Kyle?”

“Yes, and we wouldn’t want anything to happen to him, now would we?”

You shake your head and say, “No, what is it you want from me?”

“The Argents want to leave, but you're going to get Kate and Allison to Derek’s location within the next hour.”

“And in exchange, you won’t hurt my brother, Stiles, Scott, Derek, or Lydia?”

He nods.

“And what if I can’t?” Tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t know Allison that well; she wouldn’t just skip plans on leaving town to hang out with me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you exactly what to say. And if you tell anyone what we are planning, even Stiles, you can kiss your parents and brother goodbye.”

—

As you step further into the forest, you realize that you don't know what to do or how completely out of your depth you are. You did exactly as Peter said and called Allison and tearfully told her Scott had lied to you as well about being a werewolf, but you knew where he was and wanted to confront him.

It hadn’t sunk in how big of a mistake you made until you saw both Kate and Allison welding weapons when they got out of Kate’s car. You felt even more unease when Kate handed you a pellet gun. “Do you know how to handle this?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, and try to push the gun back to her. “I’ve never even held one.”

“Take it,” she says firmly. “Trust me, we are dealing with rabid dogs whose only purpose is to kill.”

“She’s right, Mori; you need to be able to protect yourself.”

It was sad to see how brainwashed Allison had become. Reluctantly, you took the gun from Kate.

You were trying so hard to keep your brother and friends safe from Peter that you hadn’t thought about the Argents trying to kill them. You clear your throat. “What are you planning on doing to Scott once you find him?”

Kate slows her pace, so Allison can’t hear anything her aunt says. Kate cocks her brow and says, “Whatever's necessary to stop him from harming Lydia. Is that going to be a problem?”

You remain silent. Stiles had texted you, saying Kate was the one who set the fire in The Hale’s house, killing everyone.

Kate was a cold-blooded killer; at least that’s what you kept telling yourself to justify handing her over to the alpha to protect your friends.

“Shh,” Kate says, putting her fingers to her lips. “You hear that?”

Allison nods, but you look around clueless until you spot Derek and Scott walking towards what remains of the Hale house. Out the corner of your eye, you notice Kate raising her gun, and without thinking it through, you kick Kate in the shin and say, “Scott, Derek, run!”

Kate throws you to the ground easily and holds you there while pointing her arrow at Derek.

“You don’t need to do this,” you plead. “Allison, you’re not a murderer; just let them go.”

She ignores you and shoots Derek in the shoulder and then in the leg before firing a flash bolt. The flash causes your vision to become fuzzy, and the feeling of being dragged underwater returns.

—

You feel weak as someone helps you stand. “Derek?”

“You good?”

You nod. “Are you; you’ve just been shot twice?”

Shooting a glare in Allison’s direction, he scoffs, “I’m fine.”

Hearing a clattering sound coming from his home, he shoots his head in that direction. “What’s wrong?”

“Scott’s in trouble.”

“Go, go.” When Derek lets go, you stumble slightly but hold onto a tree for support.

You feel like you’re burning up, but there’s nothing physically wrong with you. You roll up your sleeves to look at the bite mark on your arm and are horrified to see it was completely healed. The sudden urge to scream overtakes you, so you do. As you scream, you feel a wave of panic and frustration as the sound of rushing water overflows all your other senses. You only come back to reality when you feel a familiar warmth of arms wrapping around you.

You don’t even need to open your eyes to know who it is, “Stiles.”

“It’s okay.”

When the smell of smoke fills your nostrils, you open your eyes to see Peter's burning body falling to the ground. Squeeze Stiles tightly. “What am I?”

He whispers, “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You cling to Stiles as Scott chases after Derek, begging him not to kill Peter. “Wait! You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family—what am I supposed to do?”

Claws extend from Derek’s nails as he raises his arm up.

“Wait! No, no! Don't!”

Derek slashes Peter's throat, then slowly stands, and I’m a distorted voice saying, “I'm the Alpha now.”

—

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙻𝚢𝚍𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝 —

𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝? 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐?

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚗 —

𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 —

𝙰𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎, 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘

Gulping down, you shove the phone into your pocket; you couldn’t think straight with different messages coming through at once.

“Where do they think you are?

“At home, I guess.”

“Why did you come here alone?”

Derek lets out a dark chuckle as he walks across the creaking floorboards. His house was dark, and the only part of him you could see was his glowing red eyes. But unlike with Peter, you didn’t feel scared; you knew Derek wouldn’t hurt you.

“I want to know what I am.”

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