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hellfirexhoe · 2 years

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Camping | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Prompt from the lovely @wallpapertown ( i did run with it a little but i hope you still enjoy! )

summary: the group goes camping together, but forgetful minds mean close quarters for Eddie and the reader.

warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smutty smutty smut, buddies sharing a tent, skimpy clothes, slightly pervy!eddie, groping, fingering, p in v unprotected (who brings condoms to a friendly camping trip), once again jonathan does not exist in my writing, your friends definitely know whats going on in the tent. one use of y/n, pegging joke, pet names.

word count 3.1k words

You’d known about the plans for a camping trip for a few weeks, but in classic you fashion, you’d left all your preparation until the last minute, frantically throwing clothing and snacks into your truck. Certain you were packed, you lifted your cooler from your kitchen with ease,

“Shit shit shit, I need ice!” You ran to the freezer and saw the ice trays empty, meaning you’d have to grab ice from a nearby store. You were so focused on grabbing the ice that you failed to notice your tent was still on the kitchen table as you left the house.

In fact, your forgetfulness didn’t dawn on you until about 2 hours later, when you found the spot Robin had suggested. Steve is the first to notice you pulling up and points out the lack of tent in your truck bed,

“I was so focused on grabbing ice for the cooler that I totally forgot my tent.”

“Jesus, we’re not doing well today.”

“What do you mean?”

“Robin forgot her tent too, she was so fixated on marshmallows for s’mores that she blanked on it. Her and Nancy are sharing. Casa’s Harrington and Munson are looking perfect though.” Steve gestures to the only tents that are standing, Nancy trying to help Robin set up her tent. “Uh, I guess I can sleep with Eddie and you can have my tent to yourself?”

Eddie appears behind you, “What’s that about sleeping with me? I’m flattered Steve but I thought this was a friendly camping trip.”

“No idiot, y/n forgot her tent, so I said I’ll share with you and she can have my tent.”

“Or she can stay in my tent? She stays over at mine plenty?” Steve shrugs and turns back to you,

“Whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

You link your arm through Eddie’s, “I think I’ll stick with my sleepover buddy and let you enjoy your tent to yourself.” As you speak you’re interrupted by the sound of canvas ripping and you turn to Robin and Nancy, Robin has forced a tent pole into a part that did not require a pole and has destroyed Nancy’s tent. Steve pinches the bridge of his nose,

“Alright, Robin and Nancy can have my tent. I’ll sleep on the chairs outside.”

Eddie pats him on the back, “You’re a good dude. Alright, come on, you lets get you set up in the freak shack.” Eddie grabs your bag from your truck and leads you over to his tent. You set up your sleeping bag next to his, grateful that he’s got a large enough foam mattress set up so you wont destroy your back on the hard floor.

“Thanks Eds, I hope I’m not ruining any plans you have?”

“Plans? I plan to get high, eat so many s’mores I nearly vomit and then fall asleep to the sounds of nature; mosquitos flying around, sucking Steve dry for sure, bears fuckin’ beside the tent and a babbling brook. Sounds magical.” You both burst out laughing as you step out of the tent,

“Sorry, what was that about sucking me dry?” Steve glances up at you both from where he’s trying to set up a camp fire, this only serves to make you and Eddie laugh more,

“Relax Harrington, I meant the mosquitoes. Our sexual chemistry isn’t coming to a head just yet. I’m more of a slow burn man myself.” It’s already starting to get dark but finally, sparks fly and the campfire is lit, Robin comes running over, hands full of treats, gleefully grinning as her and Nancy start setting up s’mores and passing them around.

~~~

A couple of hours pass and you’ve all got a nice contact high from Eddie and are now getting sleepy. Robin and Nancy go to bed first, with you and Eddie sloping off to his tent shortly after,

“Alright Steve, I don’t want to feel you climbing into my sleeping bag with me at 3am.” Eddie nudges Steve who is pulling blankets over himself and nods at him,

“I can’t promise anything, not if I hear ‘bears fuckin’ beside the tents’.” Eddie pulls his shirt off once you’re both in the tent and starts undoing his jeans, you look away, his habit of undressing in front of you never really seemed to bother you until you had realized, with a certain degree of horror, that you had caught feelings for one of your best friends. Now, you had to look away, afraid he’d catch you ogling and be creeped out.

“Alright, I’m decent now, you prude.” Eddie is in his sleeping bag, leaning on one elbow and watching you intently. “You gonna get ready for bed or what?”

“Turn around pervert. No free shows.” Eddie rolls over, back turned to you as you unzip your bag you silently curse yourself. You’d thrown in clothes not really paying much attention, and since you’d thought you’d be alone you had just grabbed the first pyjama set you found.

Unfortunately this meant you were now faced with the prospect of sleeping in either the jeans and t shirt you’d been in all day, and would definitely guarantee a shitty night’s sleep. Or you could wear the black lacy, almost see through shorts and matching tank top you had grabbed in your haste. You weigh up your options and look over your shoulder, confirming Eddie is still facing away from you.

As long as I stay in my sleeping bag, zipped up tight, he won’t know what I’m wearing. You reason with yourself as you quickly undress and put the skimpy pyjamas on. You wriggle into your sleeping bag and zip yourself in,

Eddie rolls back around unprompted,

“Well hello there, come here often?” You snort,

“Can’t say I do, what I wanna know is how we’ve been friends for so long and I never pegged you for someone who liked camping, or even owned a tent.”

“Well first of all darling, you’ve never pegged me, not even once. And second of all, Wayne and I used to go when I was younger, when my dad went to prison for the first time. Said it’d be good to get me out of the trailer. I forgot how nice it actually is to just be outside, listening to the world, breathing in that camp fire smell.”

Your cheeks feel hot from Eddie’s nickname, and you feel guilty at all the sordid thoughts running through your mind while your friend is opening up to you. Fortunately, Eddie is saved from hearing you make a bad joke by a strange, animal noise from outside. You hear a chair fall and assume Steve has hopped up so quickly he’s knocked his chair over.

“Uhhhh Rob, Nance? Do you guys think I could squeeze in? Pretty sure I just heard a bear.” You hear grumbling and a zipper being undone as Steve joins their tent.

“Shit do you really think he heard a bear, Eddie?” You shuffle closer to him, in an almost wormlike fashion since you’re sealed in your sleeping bag. Eddie chokes back a laugh and wraps an arm around you,

“Well, I’d keep you safe if there was, but between you and me... that was a deer, not a bear.” You snuggle into Eddie’s arm, enjoying the bonus warmth radiating off of him.

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Well, get in my sleeping bag then, I’ll keep you warm. No funny business though, I’m a honest man.”

“No, its fine, this is fine.” You tap Eddie’s arm that’s around you,

Eddie huffs as he presses a hand to your face, “Nope, you’re freezing, you’re getting your ass in this sleeping bag with me even if I have to unzip you and pull you in myself.”

“Okay, okay. Just... look away for a second?” Eddie places a hand over his eyes and shifts back so there’s room for you in his sleeping bag. You climb in, trying not to let the fabric of your pyjamas touch his skin, you fail miserably at this due to the fact that a single man sleeping bag is not designed for two people.

“Jesus christ, what are you wearing right now?”

“Just some pyjamas...”

“Bull. ‘just some pyjamas’“ Eddie mimics your voice as he turns up the brightness on the lantern and whistles when he is able to see your clothes. “Did you think this camping trip was code for orgy or something?”

“No, I just wasn’t paying attention when I was packing.”

“How come you never wear stuff like this when you sleep over at mine?”

“Well first off, imagine poor Wayne if he bumped into me wearing this while I was just trying to go to the bathroom. And second, its not really appropriate clothing to wear when you’re sleeping in your best friend’s bed.” Eddie wanted to disagree, while he loved you in his over sized shirts and your long pyjama bottoms he couldn’t help but want you in this when you next stayed over. Absentmindedly he starts tracing the patterns in the lace around your hip,

“What are you doing?”

“ ‘s pretty. Do you want me to stop?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, leaning back onto him, feeling his warm chest touch your cold back.

“You’re freezing, silly girl.” Eddie chastises you gently, wrapping his arms around you, you try to wriggle away a little when you feel your butt touch his crotch but he’s having none of it, “You’re not getting hypothermia on my watch. Just sit still and warm up.” You both stay like this for a while, Eddie pretending the whole situation isn’t making him hard as a rock and you pretending you can’t feel his erection pressing into your ass. Eddie shifts slightly to ease a small cramp in his leg and accidentally rubs his cock across your clothed ass, and a small moan escapes your lips. You quickly clamp your jaw shut and pray he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile Eddie, who definitely did hear you has a grin like a cheshire cat,

“You okay there?”

“Mhm.”

“Then what was that little moan I heard?” Eddie whispers into your ear, “You’re wearing this skimpy little outfit, pressed up against me, and now you’re moaning? Must be trying to start something, or drive me crazy.” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire,

“Eddie, I...”

“Relax. I’m not blind you know. I do see the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. I just wish you could see that I’m looking at you the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, dumbass,” Eddie pauses to kiss your cheek, “I like you too. And I’m here if you want to do something about it. Or we can pretend that everything’s fine and we’re just best friends. But at some point one of us will get hurt.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either, but then that leaves us with one option.”

You roll over to face him,

“You want this? I mean you want to be with me?”

“God help me I really do.” Eddie’s hands are stroking your face, his big brown eyes are soft as they look into your eyes, before his gaze drops to your lips and he leans in slowly, giving you time and room to back away, you close the distance quickly, pressing your lips to his, he gasps into the kiss and his hands travel down to your waist, pressing your body flush against his. Your hands grab Eddie’s and bringing them up to your chest, you place them on your breasts and he pulls away from the kiss,

“Okay you must really be trying to drive me crazy.” Eddie starts kissing and biting your neck as he plays with your breasts over your shirt. Keen to return the favor you start palming him through his underwear,

“Baby.” Eddie speaks between kisses, “How far do you want to go right now, bearing in mind our friends are literally meters away and tents are not known for their soundproofing?”

You pull away from him and scoot to the tent’s entrance, peeking out through a small hole you’ve unzipped, the tent next to yours is dark, they’ve turned their lantern off and you can’t hear any voices.

“I think they’re asleep Eds...” Eddie kneels beside you and peers out, listening intently. Without warning, you turn his head to yours and pull him in for a kiss before pushing him down to lay on his back, “So I think we can do whatever feels right.” You rock your hips on his bulge, unsubtly getting your point across. Eddie nods and his hands come to your shorts and a loud tearing sound follows,

“Eddie!” You gasp as he rips your clothes from you,

“What?” He asks nonchalantly, kissing your neck as your top suffers a similar fate, “Not my fault these are so fragile.” Eddie rolls you over so he’s on top of you and runs his hands over your body, almost possessively,

“Liking what you see?”

“Its better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams.”

“Dream about me often Eds?”

“Only every night.” He returns to kissing your neck, as his left hand tangles in your hair his right hand is tracing a path further down your body until his cupping your bare pussy, “Can I please play with you?” He’s almost pleading with his tone,

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.” Eddie smirks and slowly runs his finger over your clit, hissing as he feels how soaking you are, tracing an almost painfully slow pattern until his fingers are just ghosting over your entrance, “I bet you feel incredible inside.” Eddie whispers in your ear, continuing to tease you with his fingers, waiting for you to ask him nicely.

“Why don’t you find out?” Eddie laughs,

“Nope. You’ve got to be a polite little lady about it and ask me.”

“Please?”

“Please what?”

“Eddie please please please touch me.”

“I am touching you?” He pretends to be confused for a moment before he slips his middle finger into you, making you gasp, “Only because you look so pretty when you beg.” He kisses you again, muffling the moans coming from your mouth. He feels you tightening up and adds another finger, stretching your pussy out more, and making you whine as he starts curling his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot mercilessly while his thumb traces circles around your clit.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie you’re going to make me cum.”

“Good. I want to watch your face while you cum all over your best friend’s fingers.” He says with a wicked grin, his fingers working relentlessly until the knot that’s formed in your stomach is untied and Eddie’s having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to muffle the filthy sounds coming out of it as your orgasm wracks through your body, your pussy clenching around on his fingers, your thighs and butt twitching of their own accord.

Once you’ve calmed down Eddie takes his hand off of your mouth and slowly removes his fingers from you, admiring the strings of your arousal on them, before slowly and deliberately sucking each of his fingers clean.

“Well I was right about two things.” There’s a smug edge to his voice,

“And what would those be?” Your voice is still shaky,

“One, that you would feel fucking incredible inside. And two, that you would make the filthiest sounds when you cum. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about both things.” Eddie admits, shamelessly. “There’s only one more thing I’m still pondering.”

“And what would that be.”

“How fucking incredible you would feel around my cock. Am I allowed to find out tonight?”

You nod, eager for more, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“You sure? We don’t have to. I don’t have any condoms with me so it would be, raw you know.”

“No condoms?”

“No, I was under the impression this was a friends-only camping trip and didn’t want to seem like I was hoping for a group sex in the woods kind of weekend. So, we do not have to have sex tonight if you want us to use protection.”

“There’s a pharmacy somewhere around here right?”

Eddie shrugs, “Must be, why?”

“Because I’m going to need the morning-after pill tomorrow.” Eddie catches your drift immediately and starts easing his underwear down, he presses the tip of his cock at your entrance,

“If you need me to stop or change your mind please just say okay? I wont be mad, I promise.”

“Eddie, please just fuck me already.” Eddie chuckles and slowly slips himself into you, biting his bottom lip to hold back a loud groan as he feels your silken walls stretching around him. You have to hold back a similar noise, though you choose to bite down on his shoulder to hold your own noise back. Once he’s got you full to the brim with his cock he looks down at you,

“Ready?” You nod and Eddie starts pulling back slightly before slamming back into you, keeping the rhythm slow and deep, you’re panting and trying to hold back so many erotic sounds,

“Baby, you’re taking this so well, and you’re doing so good at being nice and quiet for me.” Eddie kisses you, letting you moan into his mouth as he continues his pace, the depth of his thrusts making your back arch off the mattress. Eddie has to break the kiss to catch his breath so quickly covers your mouth while your eyes roll back slightly.

“Good fucking girl,” Eddie praises you non-stop while he’s fucking you, his words coming out in quick whispers as he holds back his own moans while you’re tightening around him,

“Eddie ‘m getting close,” You pant, “You need to do something so I’m not loud.” Eddie has picked up his pace now, slipping in and out faster and harder than before, relishing as you struggle to stay quiet. He’s getting close too, he’s barely hanging on but desperate to feel you finish around him. Your pussy is getting so tight he almost has to stop fucking you and your breathing is getting erratic as the warm glow that started in your lower stomach is spreading, pleasure completely wiping your brain of any logical thought, or any consideration to the current situation, so that when you do finish around Eddie, its with a loud scream of his name, which makes Eddie finish inside you with a similar cry of your name.

Eddie crashes down beside you, completely spent, sweat running down his body,

“Well we tried to be quiet? That’s got to earn us some points right?” He’s still breathless as he speaks.

“No, they’re going to be hell when we have breakfast tomorrow Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie fucking munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #munson-trashcan #eddie munson friends to lovers #smutty saturday

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bkgml · 1 year

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ex bf againnnnnn!

(cw! mentions of vomit but nothing descriptive)

i wish i wasn’t shadow banned so more ppl could see this cause i worked hard!! :(

————————————————————————

10:47pm

yn: hey

katsuki nearly dropped his phone.

“bakugou man, why’re you so quiet?”

bakugou sighed deeply, rolled his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak.

“uh it’s nothing. none of your business.” he shrugs him off.

but sero already made his way behind him.

“bro, yn texted you?!” he calls out.

dropped jaws from around him make the boy seethe.

“i told you to mind your business!” he yells.

ignoring his friends screams, kirishima sees through bakugous facade.

“you gonna text her?” he asks calmly.

bakugou meets his eyes and sighs again.

“probably.” he groans.

“dude, what the hell! you were torn up for months after that breakup!” kaminari pipes in.

but he’s already typing.

10:59pm

suki: why are you texting me?

yn: sorry if i woke you up

suki: you didn’t

yn: can i call you?

he pauses again and the boys have now made their way to surround his phone.

“you guys are like fuckin hyenas.” he frowns.

“are you gonna call her?” kirishima says.

bakugou takes a moment to think before groaning and getting up.

“it could be an emergency.” he mumbles out before opening the door to kirishimas room to stand out in the hall.

*incoming call from ‘suki’*

your breath catches in your throat before you make your shaking thumb press the answer button.

“hi.” you speak shakily.

you pray he chooses to ignore the upset tone in your voice and he does.

“hey.” he replies calmly.

“um. were you asleep?” you ask.

“no, i was with the idiots.”

he hears you laugh lightly through the speakers.

“why’d you text me?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“well, i uh.” you laugh again, a habit you have when you’re nervous.

“i don’t feel well.” you say.

he pauses and starts tapping his foot.

“how’s that my problem? i’m not your boyfriend anymore.” he says, sounding meaner than he intended.

you sigh shakily and he can practically hear the tears forming in your waterline.

“yeah, um… i know that. it’s just i really can’t sleep.” you mumble, afraid of his reply.

“what do you want me to do about it?”

the pause is long before you speak again.

“god this is so embarrassing.” you whine, letting an uncomfortable laugh slip through your lips.

“just say it, alright?… it’s fine.” he says quietly.

“okay um… can i sleep in your bed with you? we don’t even need to make contact or anything.. i just feel like shit and it’s so hard to sleep without you.” you whisper.

he takes a second to think over his answer. if he’s being honest he was hoping you’d say something like that. he hasn’t had a good nights sleep since you broke up either. but on the other hand you’re broken up. he shouldn’t be doing this.

“are you still there, kugo?” you interrupt his train of thought.

he breathes deeply though his nose and blinks away some tears that are trying to form at the use of the nickname.

“uh yeah. just thinkin.” he replies, shakily.

“you really don’t need to let me. i only asked cause i’m really desperate and we didn’t end on terrible terms, you know?” you say quietly.

he rakes a hand through his hair and sighs.

“how bad is it?” he says.

“huh?”

“is it just a cold, or what?” he confirms.

“oh um, i have a high fever and i keep throwing up. sorry if that’s gross i just know you don’t get sick because of your quirk. i can’t ask any of my friends they’ll get sick.” you say.

he groans deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose. you guys are broken up, why does he still care?

“meet me outside my dorm in 5 minutes, and im not doing this shit again.” he mumbles out.

he hears you whine and sniff, feeling a tug on his heartstrings.

“thanks, kugo.” you say as your voice wobbles.

“don’t keep me waiting.” he replies.

the two of you hang up and he groans at the thought of having to tell the idiots.

he opens the door and steps inside.

“hey, so what’d she say?” kirishima asks.

“nothin. i’m going to bed.” bakugou grumbles.

“you sure?”

“yeah, fuck off.” he says as he steps back outside.

he heads back to his room and steps inside.

he made sure to get here before you so he could clean up some things he’s not so proud of.

the framed picture of you he’s never taken off his desk, the small bottle of perfume that rests on his nightstand and your shirt that sits on your side of the bed.

he can’t sleep on your side anymore.

he stashed them all in one of his desk drawers before hearing a knock on his door.

“here goes.” he whispers lowly to himself.

he opens the door to see you standing there.

face red and covered in tear stains, bed head, deep eye bags, lips plush and bitten and his hoodie draped on your form. you’re biting your nails, another habit you have when you’re nervous.

“hi.” you say with watery eyes, bringing the sleeve of his hoodie up to wipe the tears that are threading to fall onto your cheeks.

“hey.” he says, pushing the door open wider.

you step inside hesitantly, before getting a waft of nausea and sprinting into katsuki’s bathroom.

“yn?!” he calls, running after you.

he finds you hunched over the toilet.

“hey…” he says, walking over to you and kneeling beside you.

he’s hesitant but he does start to rub your back and clasp your hair in his hand to keep it out of the way.

“it’s alright, let it out. katsukis here.” he says, soothingly.

“hurts…” you whine.

he chuckles quietly.

“i know, swe-“ he cuts himself off, praying you didn’t hear the beginning of the pet name.

you sit up once your done and he sees fresh tears sliding down your face.

“that was a nice icebreaker, huh?” he smiles while he wipes your tears.

“oh yeah, me throwing up. great icebreaker.” you smile back as you lean into his touch.

“better now?” he asks.

you nod slowly before your face crumples up with disgust.

“i still have your extra toothbrush, come on.” he says as he helps you up.

you steady yourself once you’re on your feet.

“thanks, kugo.” you smile brightly.

he has to turn away from your bright smile and your cheery nickname.

“let’s just get you in bed.” he replies.

he waits for you to brush your teeth. while you were together he’d be doing it for you, you sitting on the counter with your legs around his waist and your hand holding his.

he blinks away tears that haven’t even formed yet at the thought of how things used to be.

“bed?” you ask sweetly once you finish brushing your teeth.

he nods and resists the urge to bring you by the hand into his bed so he can hold you until you feel better.

he walks into his room and heads into his bed.

he pats your side of the bed and you bite your nails again before slipping under the sheets with your ex boyfriend.

you turn towards each other but make no move to touch each other.

“you tired?” he asks when he sees your drooping eyes.

you nod and wipe your tears with his sleeve once again.

“why’re you crying?” he asks.

you sniff and snuggle deeper into the sheets of his bed.

“im sorry i made you take care of me.” you cry.

he lets a sigh through his nose.

“i know.” he says and he doesn’t resist the urge to cup your cheek to comfort you.

you whine and lean into his hand again.

“get some rest, yeah? katsuki’s here.”

he’s here. you’re okay.

you repeat those phrases in your mind as you close your eyes and drift off into a calm sleep.

once he knows your asleep he presses a lingering kiss to your head as he finally lets a single tear fall from his eye.

11:37pm

kirishima: hey bro, why’d you leave so early?

bakugou: none of your business.

kirishima: don’t tell me she’s there

bakugou: shut up.

kirishima: bro

bakugou: even if she is here it’s none of your fucking business

kirishima: im just saying you wore torn up for months about her

bakugou: it’s not like we fucked. she’s sick.

kirishima: are you sure?

bakugou: yes now fuck off.

he puts his phone back on the nightstand and ignores the buzzing of his friends protests.

staring up at the ceiling he sighs before he feels rustling from beside him.

you make your way from beside him to resting on top of him with your limbs tangled with his.

he inhales a shaky breath as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your cheeks.

he feels you hug him tighter and he stiffens.

“miss you…” he hears you mumble.

he pauses.

“miss you too, baby.” he calls out in the silence of his bedroom.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

labyrinth

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

remember this speak now fic. now reimagine it, except YOU'RE the one getting stood up at the wedding. and then you meet your ridiculous neighbor and fall in love in an elevator months later.

an: I believe it was my beloved @satoruhour who asked me if I could do labyrinth for taylor as gojo! and here I am <333 truly one of my favorites on midnights that makes me so, so emotional I could vomit. anyways, enjoy pookies

You think Suguru Getou is beautiful. On all days, both blatantly and inconspicuously, absolutely and wholeheartedly. When he wakes up in the morning with a messy mop of hair on his forehead, when he slides into your shared apartment with a surprise bouquet of flowers, and when he gives you a cheeky wink every time you're both done screaming at each other after arguments.

Suguru Getou is the first person you’ve loved. The only person you’ll love. He burns hot, bright - like the gazing sun, opening a locked cage you weren’t aware of until he handed you the key. Opening a spur of emotions - intense, extreme, fierce, and great.

It all builds up to this. You and him - at this altar together, despite it all. That every rotten part of you is okay, because Suguru knows and looks past it. That nothing can chase him away, because you’ve weathered it down. It’s your turn - to settle down and it's in the palm of your hands.

Under the palely lit lamps, on this day, Suguru Getou has outdone himself. He’s gorgeous. His hair is nicely tamed back at the nape of his neck, his pink boutonniere pinned to his perfectly crisp suit, and a bright, soft smile on his face as you both beam at each other at the altar.

“In tradition, this is the moment to speak. Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You look at Suguru and laugh - a moment the two of you left in the ceremony as a mere joke - as you look out at the stands. You both joked that one of your friends, like Haibara or Shoko, would stand up to make their last ditch efforts before you two got to continue forward to your vows.

You turn your head to the side to give Shoko a wink, flirt with her one last time to get her to do it. Except when you catch sight of her, she has a horrified look plastered on her face. And when you scan the crowd, the same look is mirrored on everyone’s faces. Your mom, the girl you were best friends with in sixth grade, your neighbor from down the street, Haibara.

That’s when you see her standing there. In her pale blue dress, hands shaking as she talks.

“I’m-I’m not the kind of girl who does this and I-I don’t mean to barge in on such a big day but-”

You feel your heart sink into your chest, the warmth and heat - any shred of elation, joy, bliss you were feeling mere seconds ago draining from your chest. You know what’s coming next.

“But you’re not the kind of guy who marries the wrong girl, Suguru. You-it’s always been you and me. It’s never going to be anyone for me but you. And I know it's the same for you too."

You swallow hard as you push your palms hard into the stems of the bouquet. You can feel your cheeks burning again - except in embarrassment this time.

Does the preacher say something? Is Suguru supposed to say no? Is he even-

You turn over to look at him, his hazel eyes moving to meet yours, the look on his face so blank, so foreign from the boy you’ve known for the past two years that you can barely recognize him.

“Can we talk?” he whispers, nervously eyeing the crowd. You swallow hard, like burning acid is running down your esophagus and give a halfhearted nod. He takes your hand, giving you the tiniest of smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, as you two nearly sprint down the aisle past where Hana is still standing, tears streaming down her eyes.

He slams the doors shut behind him as the crowd breaks out into loud chatter behind you, shameful, humiliating tears falling onto your perfectly powdered cheeks.

“Y/N. I-”

Through the messy blur of tears, when you squint your eyes, you see it. Suguru Getou is beautiful. At all times, but not right now. His face is filled with shame, his shoulders hunched over, and his usual calm, delicate manner all haphazard, panicked. He’s fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth, words carelessly falling out of his mouth under his breath.

“You-you want to go, don’t you?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper in the air.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, stifling your sob into the fabric as his shirt as aimless apologies fall out of his mouth, his once warm hands, scalding - burning your arms.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was going to do that and I would never mean to do it like this. But-but I was standing there and I saw her and it kind of ca-came together-”

“Did you know?” you ask.

“I didn’t even know she was com-”

“Did you know you loved her still?” you ask, your voice more firm.

He looks at you, eyes narrowed, before looking down at his hands, twisting the rings you were supposed to exchange in a few minutes in his hands. And you suppose this reaction - Suguru Getou’s silence, his first time being something other than beautiful is answer enough.

Ten minutes later, he walks past you - your sister, the nanny you grew up with, your college best friends - hand in hand with Hana as they nearly run out cheesing, his initial despair left replaced with bliss as he leaves you in your white dress.

And you know that out of the infinite moments of your life, it’ll always boil down to this one. That you’ll be getting over this - how tasteless, how cruel, how evil the situation truly is.

After a month of being encouraged by people to move forward, to bounce back, you do it in the way people don’t expect. You move away. And three months after the fact, when your pain is still raw in your chest, you meet Satoru Gojo.

You lean against the wall of the elevator, pressing the faded star button, as you scroll through your errands on your phone - buy paint, email landlord, mail ring.

Mail ring.

You reach into your bag, the thought of it possessing a sudden will to see it. You yank it out and press your coffee into the crook of your elbow, focusing on the jewelry - a silver band with a pear shaped diamond in the middle. The ring Suguru’s mom wore when she was married to his dad. The one you were supposed to wear when he married you.

Suguru asked you to mail it back last night. A roundabout way of course - initially filled with concern, deeply sincere and rehearsed apologies, before cutting to the chase. And you question the thought process.

You break up with your first love. Date another girl for two years. Get engaged, plan an entire wedding, walk to the altar. Just to stand up and walk away, because it’s always been her.

And a mere three months later, reach out to ask for the ring back, because he has to propose. Again.

You ponder your options, in earnest. Granted, you’re definitely in the anger stage of your grieving process, corny terms used by your corny therapist, who is trying her best.

One. Mail it back. Tell them to go to hell.

Two. Throw it into the ocean and say you lost it. And then tell them to go to hell.

Three. Don’t respond and pawn the ring for a decent amount of money. Use the fortune to send an ungodly amount of ominous letters to their house, telling them to go to hell.

The elevator bell rings, stopping five floors short of the lobby, as two kids and a tall, pale haired man shuffle in. You give the three of them a polite smile as you slide to the side, opening up the space for them.

“It’s female rage, Gojo.”

“Female rage? I thought using the word female was bad, Tsumiki.”

“It is. But not here.”

“So if I use female as an adjective it’s not a bad thing?”

The girl, barely thirteen you’re guessing, groans in frustration as she approaches the shorter boy, who is quietly leaning against the wall with his nose stuck in his video game.

“Megumi. Tell Gojo he’s being stupid.” she states.

He looks up at the two of them, giving a soul shattering glare, before nudging her to the side.

“On a good day, you’re both objectively stupid.”

She rolls her eyes as she shoves him, muttering how annoying he is under her breath. And now they’re both shoving each other, pushing harder with each consecutive push before the boy bumps into you. You land against the wall and drop your latte all over your clothes, the cold liquid staining your white button down shirt.

You groan, knowing you’ll have to go back up and change because the stain is so blatant, putting a pin in your errands and heading to work. You look up to find the pale haired man, blue eyes widely staring into yours, as he starts profusely apologizing.

“I’m so sorry. We- I’ll pay for your dry cleaning. You know. Kids. They were raised in a barn.”

“We were both raised by you.” they deadpan.

You sigh, lifting the wet cloth off of your shirt as you look up at him, waving your hand in the air.

“Ah. It’s okay, it happens. It’s no problem.”

“No really. We insist. And-and problem solved. You can take my shirt instead!” he says, brightly smiling at you.

You frown, looking up at him.

“You’re like six feet tall.”

“I’m actually six three.” he responds, winking.

You stare at him since he’s now unbuttoning his shirt as the elevator keeps moving down, and hands it to you. It’s pale blue and definitely too big for you, but he literally grabs your hand and places it into your palm, giving you a boyish smile.

That’s when you take your moment to indiscreetly ogle him. For three reasons. First, he’s a stranger who just stripped in the elevator. Surely, a nutcase. Or a sex offender. Two, he’s smiling at you like he’s the sun. And three - he’s ripped. Like full on, toned Greek God ripped.

“Do you want a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“What? No- I wasn’t even looking. And-and take your shirt back. Who just takes their shirt off in an elevator? This isn’t going to fit me and I’ll look like a rodeo clown with this on and-”

He laughs as he takes the shirt from your hands, holding open the sleeves as he instructs you to stick your arms in. You shake your head, which he rolls his eyes at, as he drapes the shirt around your shoulders, moving forward to pull your hair out of the collar.

“You talk a lot, stranger.”

“Huh?”

“You. You talk a lot. Just put the shirt on properly and tuck it in - it’s like oversized and female fashion or whatever.” he responds.

“Quit saying female. You sound like a pervert. And you look like one too.” the boy responds, rolling her eyes.

The elevator door slides open, the lobby bustling in front of you. You shuffle out of the doors, yanking his shirt around your wrists as you adjust it on your frame. You turn your head to find him absent from your side, the three of them still standing in the elevator.

“Are you not getting out?”

“Miss me already?”

“What? No. No, I just- you bothered me the entire way down and you’re not even getting out?”

“Have to go get a shirt. I gave mine up for a pretty girl.” he responds, winking again, as the elevator doors close in front of you.

Five days later, you muster up the courage to mail the ring. It’s packed into an envelope, sans words or writing, because if Suguru gave you silence at the end, he doesn’t deserve your words at the end either.

You lean against the elevator, twisting over the envelope in your hands, as you feel the sweat sticking on your palms, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest that it’s really all over.

It should be the end. But every sinking, disgusting part of that moment - the eyes on you, your family nearby, your dress made to perfection - make you think that you’ll be getting over this your whole life. That you’ll never move forward. And why should you?

The door stops, five floors short of your stop, and the same guy - the pale haired one from a few days prior springs in, a wide smile crossing his face as he sees you in the elevator. He leans against the wall with you, so close that you can smell his cologne - musky and fresh.

“Hi stranger. How was the shirt?” he asks.

“I don’t like the color you’re wearing. Please don’t take it off because I don't want it.”

“I was asking about the shirt from a few days ago. Not the one right now. Though if you’re doing a reverse psychology thing, I’m more than happy to oblige.” he responds, laughing.

You feel your cheeks burn at misunderstanding, reaching up to fidget with the ends of your hair as the elevator keeps moving down. The two of you stay in silence, the consecutive beep on each floor seemingly getting louder until it lands on one.

You make your move to walk out of the elevator, except he’s blocking the entrance and very aggressively pressing the button that closes the door.

“What? Hey, I was getting off on that st-”

“You were getting off at that stop. And now you’re not.” he responds, pressing the shiny button marking the eleventh floor.

You cross your hands across your chest, glaring bullets into this idiot's face.

“Is it asshole day? What’s your problem?” you ask.

“I need a favor. And I’ve been trying to catch you in the elevator for five days now and only just found you. Who knnows how much longer it would be until I saw you again?”

“So you couldn’t ask like a normal person? You just had to trap me in here.”

“Obviously.”

You groan as you lean against the wall, watching the floors beep as they go up again.

“So what do you want, stranger?”

“I’m glad you asked. And it’s Gojo. My kids - you met them the other day - I’m trying to do that whole touchy-feely thing with them so they open up more. And they’re learning how to apologize this week, stranger.”

“So you want me to come so they can apologize to me? And it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say it. But yeah, just make something up about how that day was really bad for you or something so that they feel even worse and sincerely apologize.”

You glare at him as the doors open and he grabs your wrist as he leads you down the hallway.

“Lying is all touchy feely and perfect for processing your feelings right?” you ask, sarcastically.

“Of course! I’m so glad you get it.”

You glare as he sticks his key in the door and then standing behind you, two hands on your back as he pushes you in. The two kids are sitting at the table, the girl with her nose stuck in a book and the boy flicking through his video games again.

You give the two of them a smile as Gojo holds out the chair for you, taking the seat at your left.

“Hi guys. I’m Y/N. Gojo tells me that you both have something you want to talk to me about.” you say, giving the two of them bright smiles.

“Megumi. And he’s forcing us to apologize to you. I personally think he should be giving you an apology for getting naked in an elevator and then waiting for hours going up and down to find you again.” he deadpans.

You turn your head to Gojo. Hours? You mouth. He profusely denies the claim by shaking his head, signaling for you to turn back to Tsumiki. You nod, turning to her.

“I’m Tsumiki. Uh. What do I do first? Oh- OH. I just want to ask if there’s anything you want to tell me about what happened the other day. Like how it made you feel or whatever.”

You try your best to conceal your smile at her bluntness, focusing on what Gojo had asked you to do.

“Well, thank you for asking Tsumiki. In all honesty, that day was…not an easy one for me. It started out pretty rough, like a lot of days do lately and”

You pause, thinking back to that moment. Of that morning - when you couldn’t make your bed perfectly, the sheets still wrinkled, the coffee not tasting just right, struggling to find an outfit and settling for whatever was closest, and that god forsaken sparkly ring. You can feel your eyes burning, your vision blurring as you clear your throat.

“I-I was going to do something that was really hard for me. I-I got engaged. I mean I was engaged and I actually almost got married. Like, walking all the way down the aisle and white dress married. And then I didn’t. And then I-I moved here because everything there reminded me of it and the guy, god that idiot, called me and asked me to send the ring back. And-and he wants it because he wants to use it for the girl who stood up at our wedding. And yeah, I get it, they’re happy and whatever and they want to get married as soon as possible, but god, it-it’s just humiliating to have the same thing happen twice and for things to move forward so fast when I’m still stuck there, you know?”

You feel one of your tears fall straight onto your hand, suddenly aware that you’re crying in this stranger's house and you’ve said too much to a fourteen year old who's supposed to be learning how to apologize. You look up to find the three of them staring at you - eyes wide and pinched expressions on their faces.

“You got stood up at your own wedding?”

“Tsumiki. That’s rude.” Gojo responds.

“It’s okay. Yeah, I did.” you respond, waving him off. He looks wildly uncomfortable at the entire thing - probably because he's one of those emotionally repressed guys whose never seen a girl cry.

“Please tell me you did something crazy when it happened. Like screamed or something, oh my god.” she asks, excitement filling her face.

“Tsumiki.”

“Um. Well, I think I technically broke a bunch of candelabras? Does that count?”

“What?!” she asks, her excitement only growing as she takes your hands into hers.

“Well, after the two of them left together, I went back in. And everyone was trying to console me and whatever and I don’t know it was just weird. Irritating. So I was trying to gesture them all to move away and I accidentally knocked down the candelabras lining the aisle. Except they were all so close together that I pushed one and then they all went falling.”

She leans back in her chair, mimicking the motion as she turns to Megumi, the two of them discussing how loud it probably was. Gojo’s leaning onto the table, cheeks resting against his palms, as he stares at the two of them, a soft smile on his face.

“Tsumiki. Megumi. You forgot something.”

“Oh. Oh! Right. We’re sorry for what we did, really. That day must have been bad and you were probably just stuck thinking about how lonely and lame the entire situation is, like really it’s got to be depressing on so many levels and-”

“Tsumiki.”

“Sorry. Again. For making a bad day worse. And for bringing it up again. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re really cool. And he’s lame. Like most men, obviously.” she says.

“Cool, huh? I’ve never had someone describe my situation as cool, Tsumiki.”

“That’s because you probably know idiots. You’re like the main character of a really cool movie, where you like commit a murder or create a heist or something.” she says, jumping out of her seat as Megumi follows her into the kitchen, the two of them giggling about spies.

You turn to Gojo, giving him a half smile as the two of you watch them in the kitchen.

“You know when I said to make up a story, you didn’t have to add that much detail.”

“What? Oh. That was all real.”

He puts a hand on your head, awkwardly patting your hair as he gives you a weird look.

“Ah. Sorry? My bad. That really sucks, babygirl.”

You laugh at the utter awkwardness of the moment, at this gangly idiots' efforts to console you. You’ve seen every effort of comfort in the past three months - the awkward pinched smiles from your moms friends, your angry friends promising to egg his house, the half glass full righteous parents telling you that everything you lose is a step you take. But you’ve never seen this.

“Gojo. Were you raised in a barn? What’s wrong with you?”

“Sue me. I’ve never had a friend get stood up at her own wedding. What do you even say to that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if ‘that really sucks babygirl’ is where I would start.”

“My bad. Please let me know your preferred term of endearment and I’ll do better next time.”

You give him a smile as he leads you to the kitchen, splitting the only thing he has in his fridge - an eight foot white sheet cake - with you as you both smile at each other over the counter.

You sit in the stands next to Gojo and Megumi, the three of you splitting a bag of skittles as you watch Tsumiki walk up to the plate. You’re not sure how you ended up here, exactly. The timeline gets muddled in your head. Because that apology led to you returning the next day to show Tsumiki a video of you breaking the candelabras.

Then you were eating dinner with them the next day, all fancy and so that Tsumiki could knock over some candelabras of her own. Then Megumi wanted to do a deep clean of the apartment the next day, which you helped with. And then you picked them up from school when Gojo was stuck in traffic and then he drove all the way to your job with an umbrella so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain and then you just saw him all the time.

And now you’re here, at Tsumiki’s softball game. She’s an aggressive player, the metal making loud cracking sounds against the ball when she hits, her determination to run off even faster.

“Gojo.”

“Hm, pumpkin?”

“Gross. 3/10.”

“Pumpkin is a 3/10 but sugar is a 5/10? You’re ridiculous.”

Ever since Gojo’s babygirl line, he’s been testing out different endearments as he talks to you. You give him a rating out of ten, which he is always offended by.

“Sugar is like old money. Leather jackets, slicked back hair, Danny Zuko.”

“Danny Zuko is ugly. I’m way hotter than him.”

“Anyways. Do you ever think that Tsumiki is a little…intense? I mean, I don’t know she’s all about rage and the thrill and exhilaration and that’s okay but-”

He frowns, looking out at her - a determined, intense expression pressed on her face at second base.

“I guess. But, that’s just because of everything that’s happened. She-she’s used to being so smiley and carefree all the time. And I told her that when she’s with me and us, that she doesn’t have to be anymore if she feels the need to be. And I guess letting go of that, letting everything out is intense for her. And she’s just trying to feel it all.”

You put your hand on his knee and squeeze, giving him a smile as you look out at her too.

“I get it. I used to feel that way when….you know. I guess I just thought it was right to do it the intense way, to fight, to love like a knife, like a closed fist. That if I argued and felt and did all these things as intensely as I could, it would be right.”

He puts his hand on your knee now and squeezes, leaning his head against yours. Tsumiki sprints two bases, scoring a goal as she jumps up and down - her chest heaving up and down from panting. The two of you instantly jump up, hands locked together as you jump up and down just like her and excitedly cheer her name. Over the cheering, he responds, eyes still focused on her high-fiving all her teammates.

“I get what you’re saying. But, I don’t want her to think about love that way. It would kill me if she did. I want her to feel these intense feelings but love should be soft. It shouldn’t be a war, it should be a home. I don’t want her to ever have to fight for it, I want it to creep up on her - build a place in her heart that always stays there. Don’t you agree, pookie?”

You turn to him, glaring at him through his stupid light blue sunglasses. One of the best things about being friends with Gojo? That he so earnestly, so deeply wants the best for Tsumiki and Megumi that it makes your heart hurt. That his love for them is so unconditional, that you just want to witness it - have the sweetness rub off of you.

He makes two sets of dinner each night, because they’re both picky eaters. And every time you tell him to just be more firm, to sit them down and make them eat it, he refuses. Because the thought that either of them would be so stubborn that they wouldn’t eat dinner at all and go to bed hungry is worse than taking the time to make two sets of food. One now, because you always make the other.

He makes Tsumiki watch documentaries about famous female figures - politicians, music artists, writers. Tsumiki’s well versed in every feat of women - from Taylor Swift’s sold out shows to Jane Austens’ impact as a romance writer. He goes out of his way to make sure that she has positive female role models, to try his best to give her things that he can’t blatantly offer. He loves them so much. He loves so much. It’s truly the best thing about him.

The second? That he takes something serious but still manages to make you laugh at the end.

“Pookie, Gojo? Really? That’s a 0/10. You can do better than that.”

“The reservation is under Gojo. It should be two rooms, connected. Four queens.” you say, tapping your knuckles against the counter as Gojo ushers Megumi to the bathroom - who has been complaining of a very full bladder the entire drive down.

The four of you had come down to the closest beach town for Christmas and Megumi's birthday, planning to spend a few days in the area until the new year rang in. The woman hands you two keycards and you give her a smile as you wait by the elevator for the two of them to return.

Six floors later and the four of you are pushing into your rooms, Tsumiki and Megumi immediately flopping on the beds and eating the little chocolates placed on the pillows as you and Gojo roll your eyes.

You unlock the connecting door and push your bag through to find one king bed in yours and Gojo’s room as Gojo joins you at his side. He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin shoulder as you both groan.

“Fuck. No blanket hogging, snookums.”

“Disgusting. Negative ten, Gojo.”

He immediately plops his things down onto the left side of the bed and you land on the right, setting out your chargers and taking off your jewelry as you hop into the shower. Eight months ago, you would have been so opposed and appalled at the affair - having to share a bed with Gojo - but you’ve honestly seen too much of him now that it doesn’t phase you.

Granted, when you met him, he literally took his shirt off. But you're so casual now that the boundary of sharing a bed is virtualy nothing. And you've literally done it before.

You get ready in the bathroom while Gojo takes a shower, despite the fact that he’s literally naked a few feet away. You’ve shared his bed when you end up staying too late - because you’re not breaking your back by sleeping on the floor and neither is he. He eats from your plate because you never finish his own and you always steal sips of his coffee even when you say you don’t want one.

One time he used your toothbrush by accident. That however, the two of you never moved past.

You pad into the bathroom, filling up the room with a decent amount of steam as you fill up your scalding shower and indulge yourself in all the fancy bath soaps and salts in the shower. Leaving with muscles soothed and pruney fingers, you towel your hair up and throw on your sweats to nestle into the clean sheets. Gojo’s now sitting on the right side, lazily flicking through the channels.

“Gojo. I was on the right.”

“Yeah, my bad. I realized I totally claimed a side first. I know you hate sleeping by the window because you’re convinced some big bad man is going to come steal you. Now he can come get me!”

You look over at your side table, the things you set up before now switched to your side. They're all laid out perfectly, the way you had left the, except on the opposite nightstand.

“Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you know how to put my stuff like this?”

“Huh?”

“The chargers. The jewelry.”

“Oh. Just noticed that’s all. You spend like a few minutes every night before you go to sleep making sure it’s all right. That your chargers aren’t tangled, the rings and earrings are together and stuff. Just figured I’d put it that way so you wouldn’t have to.”

You smile, cheeks warm at the thought of Gojo paying attention enough to notice that you do that and going as far as doing it for you. After he remembered your irrational fear of getting murked in the night and moved when he didn’t have to. Granted, Gojo’s thoughtfulness is always one of the things you’ve loved most about him.

Oh.

You look over at him, knees hiked to his chest, messy white hair and that loose old t-shirt on his frame as he pokes through your stash of snacks. His eyes are so intensely focused on the movie - Danny Zuko dancing on the screen in Grease - as he nervously fidgets with his knuckles like he always does.

No. No no no no no no no no no no.

You’re falling in love. You’re falling in love with Satoru Gojo, you’re falling in love again and you shouldn't be.

Gojo looks over at you, bored blue eyes immediately filling with concern as he jumps up, arms resting falling against your biceps. You bring your fists to your eyes, wiping away the tears, trying to push them down as he whispers, softly broaching the subject.

“Hey. You okay? The fake burglar scared you that badly?”

You snort through your tears as he squeezes your arms.

Fuck. You’re down bad. Down horrendous. That joke wasn’t even funny and it made you snort.

“What’s wrong, my little tater tot?”

“Five.”

“I thought that was at least a seven. You love tater tots.” he whispers, tucking you into the crook of his neck as he rubs small circles into your back, his soft voice vertebrates through his chest.

What happened? When did you get like this? When did you start sharing beds and leaving a toothbrush and a spare pair of clothes at his place?

Why-why is every part of you open with him? Why do you want to open it for him?

You can’t. You just can’t.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you murmur into the clothed fabric of his shirt.

“Words please. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You crumple the fabric of his shirt in your fists, burying down every feeling - overwhelming, endearing, warm and bright - and lie through your teeth.

“Nothing. I-I just remembered. It’s Suguru’s birthday.”

He pulls you out of his arms, bringing up his hands to your cheeks, as he gives you a lopsided small.

“Sucks. Want me to kill him?”

“Obviously.”

“Consider it done.”

You smile as he lets go, dragging you back onto the bed with him. And you both watch the movie - you swooning over Danny Zuko and Gojo telling you that he’s way hotter than him the entire time - until you somehow end up nestled in his arms in the dark, his soft sleep breaths lulling you to sleep.

You're screwed.

You and Gojo pad down to the little restaurant the hotel has the next morning, leaving a very grumpy Tsumiki and so fast asleep he’s nearly dead Megumi in their beds. You and Gojo opt for a booth, sitting on the same side, as you look through the menu.

“Splitsies?”

“Huh?”

“Splitsies. You pick the savory, I’ll pick the sweet, okay?”

You nod, cheeks burning as you look through the menu at the implication, trying your best not to focus on your legs pressed together, his hand so casually placed on thigh like it’s second nature.

It is second nature, he does it all the time. But should he, if he’s just your friend?

Your friend that you’re in love with?

“And for you, ma’am?”

“Oh. Um-”

You scan your eyes down the menu and pick the first thing listed, eggs benedict, earning a weird smile from Gojo as they walk away with your order.

“Okay, my little eggs benedict. You’re paying because you hogged the blanket all night.”

“Three. Unoriginal. And you literally stopped my circulation at one point, so you pay.”

“Ugh. The things you do for love.” he responds, eyes focused on the window to his left.

“Excuse me?”

Gojo looks over at you, a weird expression in his eyes. And you feel your eyes widen when you realize this is another one of Gojo’s jokes - like when he calls you his wife, says that you’re both two parents roughing it through the world - and feel the embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you bury your face into the drinks menu.

He slides his arm around your shoulder, whispering into your ears with a smirk.

“It’s eight in the morning. Are we really going to drink right now?”

We.

“Sh-shut up. I was just looking.”

“What’s wrong with you? You’re being all squirrely and weird.”

“No, I’m not. Yo-you’re being weird. You fucking pervert, always going on about some we this, wifey this shit.”

He drops his hands on the table, squinting at you like he’s trying to discern the writing on your face. And after a few seconds his face lights up, replaced by a devious smirk that you absolutely hate.

“What, Gojo?”

“You just realized, didn’t you?”

“Realized what?”

“That you love me.” he states, matter of factly.

You feel your jaw drop as you stare at him, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as you feel your cheeks burn, his closeness to you making you even more embarrassed. At him saying that, so bluntly.

“I don’t love you, Gojo.”

“Oh, you totally do. Is that what you were crying about last night? Overwhelmed with your love for me?”

Satoru Gojo. Fucking mindreader.

“No. No, I don’t- I can’t-” you mutter, hands in your face as the entire thing bubbles out, your big secret wide open.

You can’t love Gojo. You just loved Suguru. And you don’t love anyone like you love Suguru and you shouldn't with what happened and

Satoru puts a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

“Y/N. Just, stop panicking. I'm teasing. You don’t have to be all embarrassed and figure out what it means that right away. You-you have a lot of baggage that comes with feeling like this. I’m guessing your first line of defense is to run off or push me away, so I can’t do to you what Suguru did. But - just calm down, okay? Eat eggs benedict and french toast with me and then drive along the coast.”

You stare at him, his expression so calm, so serene at something so serious that it’s off putting.

“Can you do that for me? It is my birthday, you know?”

"Your birthday was like three weeks ago."

"Yeah but it's still my month. You have to give in."

You nod at which he gives a bright smile, squishing your cheeks with his hand as the plates get placed in front of you. You both tangle your arms, the entire elephant you just spilled out ignored, as you share your plates of breakfast.

“Do you like the food, my little strawberry?”

“Yes. And that was a 8/10, not bad.”

“That was horrible. You're blinded by love already.”

The entire thing twists into a maze in your mind. A labyrinth of every moment you’ve ever shared with Gojo, with Suguru, with every complex feeling that comes with love - picking up the kids from school, him brushing your hair for fun, comparing hand sizes, doing a staring contest but instead just admiring each other's eyes.

Which is why when you come back out from your day with Tsumiki and Megumi, tuck them both into bed, and end back up in your room, you’re so anxious it’s all tumbling out of your mouth.

“Gojo.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t do this. This thing- I-I can’t do this. I want to go home. Can I go home?”

“What? Are you okay, you-”

He stands up, leaning forward to press his hands against your cheeks but you immediately back away, flinching away from his touch. He frowns, the motion catching him off guard, as he steps back.

“You want to go home? I mean, I can wake the kids and take you now but-”

“No, no. I want to go alone, I don’t want you there, this is all a lot and-”

“Y/N. I said not to think about that. You-stop thinking it into this big thing it’s not.”

You crouch down onto the ground, hiking your knees to your chest as you cry into your bones, the tears spilling down the side of your legs. You can feel the sobs racking out of your chest and Gojo’s arms holding you still, the presence you’ve relied on for the past eight months burning you.

“Y/N.”

“Gojo.”

“Are you scared I don’t love you back? I- you know I do right?”

You look up at him, blue eyes widening in shock as he pulls you into his arms properly, squeezing hard.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for a while. Don’t- don’t doubt it okay because I do. And-”

“It’s not that.” you whisper.

He pulls back again, hands resting against your cheeks - which you allow this time - as he frowns. He nods lightly, signaling for you to talk as he rubs his fingers back and forth on your cheeks, the touch soothing.

“I’m scared that I love you.”

“Hey. I’m not that bad.”

You laugh, which makes him smile, as he lightly applies pressure to your cheeks.

“I’m scared because I don’t know how to do it when it’s like this. I-I handed my heart over and someone broke it and if you do that, I can’t-

“I’m not going to do that.” he responds, voice firm.

“You love soft, Satoru. You- there’s so many parts of me that are hard, my heart is all rough and calloused over and yours is soft and perfect. I love like a knife, like a battle, like it’s a war and I’m fighting for my life. You love like it’s the air you breathe, like you’re watering flowers and building a home. You-you don’t want to love me when I don’t know how to do that and I’m like this and you should just leave when you can. I’m like a labyrinth, a big jumbled mess that you’ll have to spend forever figuring out.”

He sighs, eyes clenched shut and shoulders tensed up.

“Y/N. You contradict yourself in every sentence and it pisses me off.”

“What?”

“You’re right. I love like it’s air I breathe, like I’m watering flowers and building a home. I’ve been building ours for months now and you really think I’m going to walk out of here because it’s not perfect? I knew this was what I was getting into and I wanted it.”

You can feel your ears ringing, tears rising in your eyes because you know whatever he says next is going to inevitably make you sob.

“Gojo. You, it’s a mess up here. I can't do that to you.” you whisper, tapping your forehead.

“A mess to you, right now. Nothing about you is a mess to me. There-there’s so much that’s happened, that’s twisted all these things that are supposed to be good into bad. But just-just work with me here, okay? We’ll untwist them. We’ll make your labyrinth into a nice little garden with a pond, okay?

You push your face into his shirt, his heart pounding against your ears, as he wraps his arms around you again.

“You want a garden and a pond in our litte love house?” you whisper.

“Yeah. Megumi always stares at flowers when we walk to school, I think we should do gardening when we move out of the apartments. And we can sit there together, you know?”

“Yeah.” you whisper.

“Are you letting me?”

“Letting you what?”

“In. In here and here.” he says, pointing to your head and then your heart, which is violently thumping.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

He leans forward, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead, before whispering a soft thank you in your hair. You cry a great deal more, his soft words soothing you down, until you’re tangled under the sheets together, every part of your body vibrating with what just happened.

“Go to bed, my love. We have to get up early tomorrow.”

You turn to the other side and he snakes his arms around your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“My love? It’s ten out of ten.” you whisper.

You feel him press a kiss to the back of your neck before you both fall asleep, the warmth enveloping you in the deepest rest you’ve ever had.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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izvmimi · 1 year

Text

cw: minors dni. oral giving and receiving. threesome. fem!bodied reader. vaginal penetration. suggestion of double penetration. spanking.

a/n: bakudeku threesome. a repost.

there’s a harsh groan that leaves bakugou’s throat as he pushes the last few inches of himself through your already wet and beaten hole, digging his fingers into the fleshy part of your hips for purchase. it takes one powerful stroke to bury himself to the hilt, and the breath is nearly knocked out of you as you’re pressed hard against his pelvis. you’re not new to rough sex but no one's ever handled you nearly as carelessly as this.

izuku tenses a little - you can feel it in the twitch of his hands that had previously been caressing your face as you adjusted to bakugou’s size.

“careful,” he warns sternly.

“she can handle it,” bakugou hisses back. through teary clouded vision, you watch your boyfriend’s expression sour ever so slightly. but rather than stop the whole operation, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“remember you can use your safe words,” he whispers into your skin. you nod.

you can practically feel bakugou roll his eyes. he’s getting impatient, but knows if he starts ramming into you unkindly now, he might never get to taste you again.

“ready?”

izuku hums in assent as he presses down gently on your back to bend you into an L - you can feel bakugou’s cock twitch agitatedly inside you.

“yes or no?”

izuku’s cockhead presses against your lips and he taps at the side of your mouth with his thumb. he’s taking his time on purpose, being petty.

“open up.”

you obey, and he too presses in, seating the heavy, hot length onto your tongue and further down your throat. you gag a bit, and steady yourself by holding onto deku’s muscled thighs. he glances down at you and you look up, nodding. you’re ready.

“we’re ready,” izuku says, more cheerfully than you would expect and bakugou’s already started the first thrust before he’s even ended his sentence.

push, pull.

bakugou moves hard and fast, but izuku refuses to be overpowered, giving it right back at the same pace.

you gasp, sputter and choke, but the drag of warm, thick cock up and down your esophagus and along the walls of your cunt makes your head spin. perhaps you don’t need air, willpower and hedonism is enough.

“you really kept your slutty girlfriend away from me all these years, huh?” bakugou practically growls through his teeth. he’s comfortable and steady enough to talk now, no longer frenzied by the clench of unfamiliar pussy but in a good rhythm, and he releases his hold on your ass to grab your arms, pulling hard to arch your back. you whine, not imagining he could go even deeper and shake as his cock explores your insides far too effectively.

“yours would be worse if you had one,” izuku quips. bakugou slams into you particularly hard in response to that, and you see stars.

your mouth opens around izuku’s cock and he pulls you off of him, hands clasped at the side of your face. your eyes are crossed and unfocused. maybe bakugou’s right. you do look kind of stupid, slutty and ridiculous, limp and mewling incoherently with every lewd and wet slap, slap, slap. your face is flushed and sweaty, you’re drooling and tears run down your cheeks in a disgustingly erotic fashion.

he kisses you anyway and puts you right back where you belong.

this time, izuku pushes your head harder against his cock, so that you can inhale deeply of his scent while you contemplate what it feels like to have cum seep into your lungs. hot, thick jets fill your throat and you can hear him shudder with each spurt. he pulls you off to breathe again and you gasp for air.

bakugou murmurs something about low stamina but cums mid-sentence in an embarrassingly loud moan, his arms wrapped so tightly around your waist you think you might vomit.

izuku laughs as bakugou lets go and you fall into his arms.

“i... i want more,” you beg in a small, warbled voice, legs wobbly. izuku grins, then glances at bakugou, who’s fallen backwards into bed. he’s absolutely red in the face, trying to figure out what to say to distract the two of you but his friend’s offered him an out.

“stay right there, kacchan since you’re apparently down for the count,” izuku insists. you take a look in his eyes, and he points his chin towards his direction.

“can you get him back up, love?”

your eyes widen. “i thought-” izuku isn’t usually found of letting anyone else penetrate your mouth - something about your kisses only belonging to him, but he seems keen to try it this time.

“just this once,” izuku encourages.

bakugou’s cock is covered in your slick, and its taste is comfortably familiar on your tongue. leaning over the edge of the bed, you take him in eagerly, bobbing up and down. this time bakugou is a little gentler with pushing your head down his cock, perhaps realizing what a gift he’s being given.

“god, like that, please... fuck-”

he’s way more vocal too, so you get excited, gripping the shaft back and forth with your hand, playing with his balls. his legs twitch around you and there’s excitement in your eyes with the renewed ability to make him crumble but as soon as izuku’s tongue makes its way between your parted cheeks, you shudder and your head spins.

and as you slow, he slaps your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

“focus, honey.”

how can you when his tongue flicks in and out of your cum-filled hole, wraps around your clit, and sucks each lip with gusto?

every time you stall from pleasure, izuku spanks you, and soon bakugou’s fingers tighten into your hair, bobbing your head back and forth for you.

“if you’re too fucked out to multitask, i’m glad to do it for you.”

the slurping and sucking noises are deafening and increase in sound, as you slobber all over bakugou while izuku slobbers all over you. bakugou cums again, the sound this time less of a strangled sudden cry, but appropriately built up and loud, and once you’re done swallowing every drop that spills down your throat, izuku nudges you to shift positions and climb onto the bed.

“do you think you can take two?”

you’ve always been a trooper.

#izuku x reader #bakugou x reader #izuku smut #bakugou smut #bakudeku x reader smut #thoughts: izuku #thoughts: bakugou #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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guess-my-next-obsession · 7 months

Note

would you ever consider doing an elementary extension that includes them finding out they’re pregnant with iris? no pressure just wondering!!

The Birthday

pairing: elementary!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: M (talks of pregnancy, steamy moments, talks of vomiting)

wc: 1.9k

series masterlist

— September 26, 2003 —

You stirred awake later than usual, your body working overtime now that after months of trying, you were finally pregnant. You had yet to tell Joel the news, wanting to wait until the appointment you made for this afternoon to confirm the results of the four at-home tests you took before you got his hopes up.

Crawling out of bed, you stretched your arms out wide, letting out a hearty yawn before turning to look at Joel’s shirtless body still fast asleep in bed, sprawled out like usual, his feet nearly hanging off your side of the bed. You smiled at him and all of his quirks that would get under your skin if he were anybody else, your hand smoothing over your nonexistent bump. Though you’d been unable to fight off your morning sickness all week, somehow the thought of carrying his child and your wedding next month seemed to cure the nausea threatening to creep up on you.

Catching the alarm on his nightstand before it could ring out its harsh and piercing cry, you leaned over his form and pressed a kiss to his temple, your palm rubbing over the muscles on his smooth and warm back.

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling over onto his back. He rubbed at his eyes as he stirred awake, and after a big yawn, he focused his vision on you sitting on the edge. “Mornin’, baby.”

“Morning, birthday boy,” you greeted him with a smile, rubbing at his chest. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Shit—“ He sighed, raking one of his hands over his face. “Promised Sarah we’d have pancakes this mornin’ but I forgot to get it at the store.”

“Eggs and bacon then?” Joel gave you a soft smile and nodded.

As you moved to stand, he caught your hand and tugged you back to him, beckoning you to lean down for a kiss which you happily obliged. Joel hummed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged you to lay on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as his kisses trailed down your chin to your jaw.

“We can call off work,” Joel mumbled against your ear as he placed a kiss there, his hands wandering over your thighs to rest on your hips. “Spend all day in bed.”

“I have an important…meeting,” you lied. “Superintendent is coming. Can’t miss it.”

Joel pouted as you sat upright, your hands resting on his chest as you smiled down at him.

“God, you make it hard to think rationally,” you laughed, lifting a hand to squish his cheeks together, his pout turning into a pair of fish lips. “That’s better.”

Joel laughed and patted your hip, letting you climb off of him so that he could stand up.

“Gonna shower,” he said. “You’re welcome to join.”

“So persistent this morning,” you teased, swatting his ass as he passed you. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess.”

With a smirk, you threw on your robe and padded your feet downstairs, finding Sarah sitting at the kitchen table finishing up her homework.

“Morning,” she greeted you with a smile. “How are you feeling? Did you throw up again?”

“No, I’m managing to keep it down today, or…at least for now. Knock on wood.”

After getting the coffee pot going, you pulled two pans from the cupboard and placed them on the gas stove, turning the heat on before walking over to the fridge to grab what remained of the eggs and bacon.

“You gonna tell dad today?” Sarah asked, whispering so that Joel didn’t accidentally overhear the news you’d shared with Sarah almost immediately after finding out yourself, her round, insistent eyes winning over your inner-strength.

“If everything goes well at the doctors,” you replied, looking over your shoulder at her while you cracked some of the eggs into the buttered pan. “You still wanna get his watch fixed?”

“I was hoping, but my allowance money is running a little low.” You looked back to see her shrugging with a frown, but quickly shook your head at her and walked over to your purse that rested on the counter, pulling out three twenties and handing them over. “No, I can’t—“

“You can and you will,” you replied, giving her a playfully stern look. “We’ll just say it’s from both of us.”

“Dad’s gonna love it,” she beamed, sticking the cash in her backpack. “We might see some tears tonight.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Joel’s quick and heavy footsteps sounded as he jogged down the stairs, finding you at the stove and Sarah hard at work on her algebra worksheet. He walked over and kissed her on the top of the head before walking into the kitchen, giving your ass a loving tap as he pulled three mugs out of the cabinet.

“Tommy coming by?” you asked as you watched him divvy up the coffee pot equally into all three cups. As if a lightbulb rang in your head, you realized caffeine might not be the best thing for you given the pregnancy. “Oh, actually…you don’t need to pour me one.”

Both Joel and Sarah gave you an odd look, having never seen you turn down your morning coffee.

“Just…I don’t want to be jittery and anxious for my meeting,“ you lied.

“You have coffee every mornin’,” he countered, his brows furrowed as he watched you try to form a better excuse.

“Not when I’m already anxious,” you returned, doubling down on your lie. “Coffee will just make it worse.”

“Mm,” Joel narrowed his eyes at you as he lifted his mug to his mouth to take a sip. “You’re lyin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“No, I’m not,” you quickly denied his claim with a giggle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckled. “But it’s alright, I’ll let you have your lie for now.”

“Mornin’, mornin’!” Tommy walked in with a wide smile, rubbing his hands together as he peered over your shoulder at the eggs. “Make sure to put some cheese on mine, sis.”

“She ain’t your personal chef,” Joel barked.

“Shh,” you hushed your guard dog of a fiancé with a smile before looking over at Sarah. “You want cheese with yours, Sarah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she replied as she stuck her binder in her backpack. “I would like some OJ, though.”

“Bought a new jug of it yesterday,” Joel announced, moving to grab a glass from the cabinet behind him. “Baby, you want a glass, too? Since you’re not havin’ coffee for whatever reason.”

“Yes, please,” you replied, flashing him a thankful smile.

“Why ain’t you havin’ coffee? That’s new,” Tommy noted as he took a seat beside Sarah at the table.

“Why are you both so interested in what she does and doesn’t drink?” Sarah asked, coming to your defense.

“Alright, alright—“ Joel held his hands up in defense. “Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

“It’s not, now come help me carry these plates to the table,” you ordered, taking two of the plates in your hands while Joel set his coffee down to grab the other two. You set the plates down in front of Tommy and Sarah before taking your usual seat beside her, Joel joining shortly after.

“You think you’ll be home on time today?” you asked, looking to your fiancé as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon.

“Doubt it,” Tommy interjected. “We gotta wait for the cement guys to come and they take fuckin’ ages—“

“I’ll try my best,” Joel interjected with a glare aimed at his brother. “‘Specially if this one doesn’t drag ass again.”

As if your body suddenly remembered its current condition, the nausea that was nowhere to be found just minutes ago began to take root deep in your stomach. The smile on your face as you watched Joel and Tommy go back and forth faded into a look of worry as things spiraled faster than you could act. Your hand lifted to your mouth as you abruptly slid your chair back on the tile, drawing all eyes to you as you sprinted towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and just barely making it to the toilet.

“Baby, you alright?” Joel’s voice sounded from the other side of the door as every bit of this morning’s breakfast came back up until you were left dry heaving. “Can I come in?”

“It’s gross,” you croaked, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear. It seemed he didn’t care much about your warning as he turned the doorknob and let himself in, finding his seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and soothing as he rubbed your upper back.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching to flush the toilet before moving to sit against the tub beside him, your head resting on his leg. “Must be the nerves.”

“You still goin’ with that lie?” he smiled down at you. “C’mon, baby.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said, smiling nervously as you looked up at him. “A confirmed surprise.”

“Confirmed?” he repeated, his brows lacing together. You took a deep, calming breath and let it out in a slow sigh before meeting his eyes again, a grin spreading across your face.

“I, uh, I was feeling off a couple weeks ago and so I went and got some tests—“ Joel’s brow softened, his eyes going round. “And they were positive.”

“You’re telling me…what?” he chuckled. “You’re…you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you giggled and nodded, wiping a tear that flooded your waterline.

“Really?” he swooned, reaching out to help you onto your feet so that he could wrap his arms around you. “You ain’t punk-in’ me, or whatever that Ashton Kutcher show says, right?”

You laughed and shook your head as you squeezed his shoulders, his face buried in your neck.

“No, you’re not getting punk’d,” you said.

“Does this mean y’aint got an important meeting with the Superintendent today?” he asked as he pulled back to stare at you, his thumb stroking over your cheek.

“No,” you smirked, looking down at his belt. “I am technically sick.”

“Exactly,” he smirked. “And it’s my birthday.”

“Sounds like we’ve got some calls to make,” you said, biting your lip. “But first I think I need to scrub my entire mouth clean because that was—“

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he interrupted your less than sweet talk with some tear-inducing sincerity. “Does Sarah know?”

“Yeah, she got it out of me pretty much right after I took the tests,” you laughed. “She’s excited, I think.”

“I’d kiss you if your breath didn’t smell so bad,” he teased, making you gasp and pinch his side. “Fine, I’ll kiss you anyways.”

“If it wasn’t your birthday—“

“But it is,” he smiled at you devilishly as his hands rested on your hips and tugged you closer to him, his lips leaning in to hover over your pulse before pressing a petal soft kiss there. “Go call off work and do what you gotta do. All I want for my birthday is you in my bed all damn day, alright?”

“Whatever you want…daddy,” you purred, a grin spreading across your face at the groan he let out.

“Lord,” he sighed, shaking his head as he pulled back to look at you. “Go call out.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #elementary

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thissortofsorcery · 8 months

Text

@intothedysphoria has inspired me to write about autistic!harringrove, and my own experiences with autism... Max, this is for you! I hope you like it!

tw for anxiety and sensory overwhelm, but it ends fluffy, I promise.

---

It started as a normal day, but it quickly derailed from there.

An asshole at work approached Billy from behind and clapped his hand around the nape of his neck, despite Billy having told him several times he didn’t like that.

Billy didn’t like being touched at all, by most people. And some people had no concept of personal space.

A horrible, painful shiver cut through his spine, icy cold and almost slimy, and Billy held back a shudder. He broke out in goosebumps, and only years and years of practice, of putting on the charm let him pull away from the dickhead graciously, laugh at whatever he said and keep himself together until he could hide away in a bathroom stall.

Billy presses his fingers to his closed eyes hard, seeing stars, and rubs the back of his neck vigorously, trying to replace that cold shiver with something else. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels so fucking frustrated.

Finding out you’re autistic in your twenties is an experience. A lot of things start making sense, and a lot of things you pushed down and convinced yourself weren’t a problem spring back up like a jack-in-the-box, a hundred times worse.

Like the touch thing. It’s not that Billy doesn’t like being touched. He just doesn’t like being touched by people he doesn’t know, and for no reason.

Like, his physical therapist, when she was helping him regain dexterity in his hands after Starcourt, that was fine.

Some dude in the office touching his neck, even casually, not so much.

Billy takes a deep breath, tries to remember the self-care workbook he and Steve filled out together a couple months ago. Tries to calm down.

Three ways I can distract myself when someone touches me, he’d written, glancing back up at Steve with a smile. Happy they were doing it together.

Loud music + puzzle

Hot drink

Yelling

Steve laughed and shook his head (“it’s very you”) when Billy wrote down the last one, but it really did help.

Billy gives himself a few more moments in the stall before he slinks out, heading to the sinks and splashing cold water on his face. The sensory shock helps a little, the cool, pleasant feeling helping balance the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

He checks if the break room is empty before he goes in, and it thankfully is. He doesn’t want to run into anyone. Doesn’t think he has it in him to mask right now.

Billy makes himself a mug full of scalding hot coffee and hurries back to his office, avoiding eye contact with anyone who throws out a hello. So what if they think he’s angry. Maybe he is pissed.

He manages to spend the rest of the day locked in his office, headphones on, and only comes out when it’s time to go home.

Of course, all he wants is to see Steve, wants his comforting presence, even if they’ve been dating only three months. When he walks through the door of Steve’s house, he sees Steve sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing his ugly vomit green socks with raccoons on them, that he’s had since he was 15 and won’t get rid of.

A wave of relief crashes through him, nearly leaving him dizzy. He breathes deep, catches the smell of his clean house, laundry, and Steve.

“Hey baby,” Steve calls, laying his head on the back of the couch to look at him, making his glasses just a little bit crooked. “Bad day?”

“Does my face look that terrible?” Billy grumbles, taking his shoes off at the entryway before he steps into the living room.

“Your headphones are around your neck,” Steve points to them, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

Oh. Billy forgot to put them away. He doesn’t need them in the car.

He sighs and throws himself down next to Steve, a careful, deliberate distance away.

“I’m just ‘whelmed,” Billy mumbles.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not anymore. Just whelmed,” He says, sighing again. His body sags, melting against the cushions. He doesn’t feel shivery anymore, but he feels tired, like he’s on the bad end of an all-nighter.

Steve puts his hand on the cushion between them, palm up, not touching Billy.

Billy takes a deep breath, watching Steve’s hand. He knows that hand intimately, knows it to be warm and soft and kind, knows how its skin feels against Billy’s, the friction making the shivers good instead of bad.

He puts a tentative fingertip on Steve’s pointer finger, and all Steve does is press back, smiling gently.

Billy slides his fingers in between Steve’s, laces them together, holds his hand palm to palm, and feels the touch of his skin like they’re buzzing together.

Billy knows he can change his mind, and all Steve’s gonna do is smile, sit on his side of the couch, and continue the conversation.

“How’s that book you were working on going?” Steve asks. He rubs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand once, and stops. When Billy squeezes his hand, he resumes the movement, sending pleasant tingles up Billy’s arm.

“Good. The writer was receptive to what I said. They sent me a couple reworked chapters today,” Billy says, moving closer to Steve, so their arms press together.

As the conversation goes on, Billy presses closer and closer, at his own pace, and Steve accepts it crumb by crumb.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, or how Steve is so patient with him. Steve loves physical contact. Billy does, too, but he’s so particular about it that sometimes he wonders if he’s even worth sticking around for.

Billy ends up lying on top of Steve, chest to chest, nose tucked into his throat, breathing in his warmth and his scent.

“Don’t touch my neck, okay?” He asks, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, easy as that. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Steve turns his head and kisses Billy’s head, right on the hairline, pulling a deep, content sigh from him.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Billy says, squeezing his ribs just a little tighter. “For doing this for me. Being patient.”

Steve looks down at him, frowning slightly.

“‘Course. You shouldn’t— You don’t have to thank me,” He says, earnest. “It’s not a chore, Billy. You’re not…” He licks his lips, trying to think. When he looks at Billy, it's like he's telling him a secret. “You make me happy. All of you.”

Billy’s smile is wide, stretching his full lips and showing his teeth, and Billy only drops it so he can kiss Steve.

They keep it chaste, an unhurried, soft press of lips, enjoying their intimacy and their closeness and their familiarity. Simple as it is, it's one of the best kisses he's had. Steve's the best person he's ever met.

When Steve touches him, he feels safe. Billy wants to keep him.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #billy x steve #sorcery writes #mine

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deathbecomesthem · 1 month

Text

Crawling to the Finish | Part 4 | 10K

Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader

*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.

+18 ONLY | MDNI

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Blood loss/Blood transfusion, discussions about a urethral catheter and post surgical bowel movement. Vomiting. This is an honest story about what a post surgical experience is often like. In my opinion, it's not super explicit, but take heed of the warnings.

There is SMUT in this part. (Oral, PIV)

Summary: You get your hip replacement, and your life.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series is my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

A/N 2: This is it, the last chapter of this series. I hope it's satisfying. It took a lot for me to write this story, especially this part. 💜

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The alarm screams into your quiet bedroom at 4:00. You were already on edge, so the sounds makes you leap in the air, throwing your arm hard into the soft flesh of the person laying next to you. You both groan in pain – you from the jolt to your hip, Eddie from your hard fist hitting his chest.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” Eddie’s rolling over to hop off the side of the bed to help you up. It’s an automatic movement at this point. He’s spent nearly every single night in your bed for the last 2 weeks, and he never fails to help you in the morning, even when he’s still mostly asleep.

“I’m fine, Baby.” His voice is hushed, but alert. He was as restless as you were last night. He held you tightly and played with your hair until you finally drifted for a little while.

You asked him if his uncle minded him being away from home so much, and he laughed and reminded you that you’re both adults. Your mom was fine with him staying over, and all had an unspoken arrangement about refraining from any kind of sexual activities when she was home. Really, you were so tired and scared about your upcoming surgery, there wasn’t much more than occasional heavy petting in the front seat of his van after school anyway.

“Go back to bed, Ed. I’ve gotta get ready, you can sleep.” Wordlessly, not arguing, just doing, he helps you get into the bathroom. You hear your mom moving on the other side of her bedroom door. Eddie gives you a kiss on the forehead, and heads back to your room.

A clean pair of underwear, sweatpants, and a t shirt sit on the stool in the bathroom. You spot the pre-surgical soap sitting on the lip of the bathtub along with a fresh washcloth. Time to wash your body, every inch, with the hospital soap. The smell immediately brings you to realization that – yes – this is happening today.

Your mom meets you in the doorway of the bathroom, ready to take her own shower, as you leave to finish getting ready in your bedroom. She gives you a tight-lipped smile and pats your arm before squeezing past you and into the steam filled room. When you enter your bedroom, you find Eddie sitting on the end of your bed, fully dressed. He’s sitting with his hands held between his open knees. His smile matches the one your mom had just given you, the tension and stress about the upcoming day edging you close to the edge. You’re ready to break.

Eddie points to the chair that sits in the corner of your room and tells you, “Sit down, Baby.” You don’t question it, you sit for him. Your brain is an open nerve, every bad thought runs through it over and over again. You can hear a distant screaming in your head, white noise zinging between your ears. Eddie stands and walks over to you, grabbing your hairbrush from the vanity. He motions for you turn and tip your head back a little. Again, you comply.

Your hair is only slightly damp. You shampooed it last night when you took your first pre surgery shower. Eddie is so gentle when he runs the brush through your tangles. He’s humming something quietly while his hands run up the back of your neck in a soothing movement.

His voice is soft and sweet, filling the room with a warm calm. You’ve never heard him sing before, and you feel a sense of sadness at missed opportunities. You close your eyes and focus on his voice, on his soothing touch on your neck and scalp, and on the bristles of the brush massaging your tension. The surge of affection you feel for him is so intense. You vacillate between overwhelming affection and absolute terror, back and forth. The feelings are both too much to be shared, you feel the intensity of each fully, filling you completely. You want to stay in this chair and never leave it, Eddie singing barely above a whisper, as if the volume of his voice may make time speed up.

The *tap, tap* at your door reminds you that time is, in fact, moving forward, and now you must leave. You haven’t even opened the door yet, but your brain is 10 steps ahead. The moment is broken, and you feel bricks being laid in your head, building a wall to separate yourself from everything and everyone around you. You manage a little smile at Eddie when he pulls you in for a hug before you leave the room and make your way down, down, down the stairs and into the front seat of your mom’s little rust bucket.

For all you know, Eddie stays in that exact spot for the rest of the day, although he’s meant to go to school and get a status report at lunch time from your mom. It had been a, well not a fight, but a disagreement between Eddie and yourself about whether he should drive to the hospital before the surgery. You had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not to sit in that waiting room all day with your parents. It would be pointless. Besides, you reminded him that he had an exam study day in one of his classes, and he needed the help since you’d be out of commission for a while. It wasn’t until your mom assured Eddie that he could call the hospital, even going as far as to get the direct line for the waiting area your parents would be in before he relented and agreed to wait until he knew you were in your own room before trying to come down and visit.

At least, that was the plan. The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray.

It takes a lifetime and no time at all to get from sitting in the front seat of your mom’s car to lying on the cold metal table of the operating room. From what you can tell, there are about a half a dozen people scooting around the room. It’s hard to know with everyone in caps on their heads and masks over their faces. The one sitting behind your head, somewhere your eyes can’t reach, is the anesthesiologist. You met him in pre-op, and he said several times that you probably won’t even remember meeting him. You will. They always say this, and you always remember.

The smell in the hospital is all too familiar. The disinfectant used within these walls permeates everything. It will be the only thing you smell until you leave in two days, with the exception of –

“Alright, let’s get some happy gas in you. Once you’re feeling good, we’ll get your IVs in, ok?” A mask with a rubber seal around it is placed over your mouth and nose. Your initial reaction is too feel panic, because it’s unnatural to take deep breaths of something that smells like this. But you do it, you let the happy gas fill your mouth and then travel down to your lungs. A couple of mouthfuls and the panic, as well as the worry, starts to fade to black.

“There she goes. Y/n, how are we feeling? Good?” You nod in answer, and it feels as if your head weighs 50 pounds and is also weightless at the same time. You don’t feel the pinch of the needle piercing your skin, but you know it’s in because they’ve got you counting backwards now. 100, 99, 98, 97, 96, “y/n, what comes after 96? Can you tell me?” 95… 94… Everything is black.

“Y/n, I need you to answer me.” An unfamiliar voice is saying your name, and you can’t move. You can’t even open your eyelids. Everything is heavy and, oh god, your mouth is so dry.

“Water.” It’s barely a whisper when it leaves your mouth, a plea, you felt like you might die without a drink.

“No, dear, no water right now,” a hand is fiddling around under your blanket. Yes, a blanket, you’re in a bed, “maybe some ice chips in a little while, alright?”

Not alright, “I’m so thirsty.” Your voice sounds strange, and your throat is so sore. What happened to you? As you wrack your brain for an answer, the beeping sounds from the machines in the recovery room start to bring you back. You were in the hospital. You had surgery.

“Mom?” If you’re in the recovery room, she must be here too somewhere. Your eyes are open now, but you can’t see. The world is blur and you can’t sharpen your focus. You feel panic setting in, but when you try to move you find you’re legs are completely without feeling.

“Your mom ran out to get your dad since you’re waking up. It’s been a long day for everyone, and they’re anxious to see you.” The nurse, you can see her blue scrubs, but still can’t make out any defining facial features, pats you on the arm. It’s supposed to be reassuring, but you’re desperate now.

“Please, water.” You’re minding your manners, but you still need that drink. You need something to calm the fire in your throat. Your tongue is sticky, and you can’t form the words correctly in your mouth. It hurts.

The nurse isn’t answering you anymore, she’s pretending she can’t hear your desperate plea for the most essential need you have. It’s all you can think of. A drink. A drop. Anything. This is when your mom and dad walk into your line of vision. Still blurry, but you know their forms.

“Water,” it’s all you can say, all you can think of, “please.” Your mom is rubbing the top of your head, and you hear a catch in her breath. Is she crying?

“Are you ok, baby?” Her voice is hoarse, and you know she’s been crying now.

“I’m ok,” the words are sticky, your tongue thick in your mouth, “what’s wrong?” Your fuzzy brain tries to focus on her words. Your eyes are starting to focus finally, and you see your dad’s face is full of concern. He’s standing at the end of your bed. Above his head you see the big red numbers of the clock at the nurse’s station. It’s 7:00. Your surgery should have ended 5 hours ago.

Another hour passes and you’re finally in your room. 5 days in the hospital, at least, is what you’re told. Something went wrong, and no one’s really clear about what it was. The surgery went hours longer than it should have, and you ended up having a blood transfusion. You lost a lot of blood, apparently, and most of it was on the surgical gown when your doctor left the OR to update your family on the situation. Your mom was hysterical, according to your dad. She thought you were going to die. But you didn’t, because now you’re staring at the faces of your parents. They look terrified, like you might just disappear if they take their eyes off of you.

Eddie had come to see you after school, expecting to find you in your room already. He stayed with your parents for those few hours. Your mom sent him home, insisted on it, once she found out you were out of surgery and not on the verge of bleeding to death anymore. She said he didn’t argue, but he looked wrecked.

Hearing Eddie’s name sends a pang through your chest, but your thirst and the slowly growing ache in your leg overtakes any thought about anyone else. The ice chips your mom snuck to you without the nurse noticing came right back up, and now your focus was on your thirst and your fear of throwing up any liquid you might try to drink.

In and out of consciousness, that’s how night one post hip replacement goes. People come and go. Your dad and Sun leave after a while. It’s just your mom sleeping in the recliner set in the corner with a hospital blanket draped over her legs. Every hour. Every hour a nurse came in to check your vitals. You drift to sleep only to be awoken by the ice cold hands of the night nurse touching you, putting the blood pressure cuff on your arm, messing with the many tubes that are inserted into different areas of your body.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” It’s 3:30 in the morning when you feel it. The sneaking urge to piss. You knew that it didn’t make sense logically, but it was something that always happened. You had to pee, but you have a catheter inserted into your urethra.

“Oh, do you need to have a bowel movement already?” A bowel movement? No, I don’t need to take a shit. The nurse is moving stuff around, likely looking for a bed pan for you.

“No, I have to pee.” You have to pee. The pressure is incredible, and it hurts.

Your mom is stirring, she’s been listening to the interaction, not intervening until she knew she had to. “y/n, sweetie, you have a catheter, remember? You don’t have to pee, it just feels weird.”

You hate this, you hate feeling like you have to be handled.

“Then take it out. I have to pee.” You know they won’t take it out.

“Here, don’t forget you can use this when you start to hurt.” Your mom puts the morphine pump into your hand. The monitor for the pump is facing away from your bed, she had turned it hours ago when she realized you could tell when it cut you off. Anything to try to keep you on an even keel.

You press the button on the pump over and over. Until you fade again.

You wake up scratching at your arms. Everything itches. Head to toe. It’s the morphine, you know. This is another thing you know that happens. When the itching starts to get intense like this, your desire to get the IV out of your arm starts to drive you crazy.

The next time you wake up enough to register what’s happening around you, the sun is up. Your mom is also up and she’s digging around in her purse. A nurse, a new one now that the morning shift started, is putting a blood pressure cuff on your arm again.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Your mom glides over to you. Your pain is manageable, but your brain is so fuzzy. “I’m running home for a quick shower. Dr. Greene will be coming down in a couple of hours to see you.”

She’s gone, and you’re alone. The sounds and scents of the hospital are all around you. The only solace you take in the morning is the fact that water is sitting fine now. You’ve been able to eat some jello, but it roils in your stomach. You have a plastic bin on the table next to your ice water “just in case”.

In the hospital, time is meaningless. Every moment is the same and it’s never ending. You rationally know that things are happening, every moment spent there your body is healing. You know that your time spent here is short when viewed in the context of your life, but it’s also an eternity.

The morning shows come and go, and in the talk show hours you meet someone new. A woman, smaller than you, and she’s wearing a wide leather belt over her hospital scrubs. Shit. You thought maybe you’d get a reprieve since you almost died yesterday, but no, this is when the torture begins.

“Good morning, y/n! I’m Leslie, I’ll be with you every morning and afternoon while you’re here,” yep, you know this already. You can feel yourself aging backward in this moment, you’re going to be a problem for her, it’s already been decided, even if it is more of a punishment for yourself than anything else, “We’re gonna get you up, how’s that sound?”

“Get me up? Like standing?” This isn’t what you expected at all.

“Yes, standing and,” Leslie walks over to the curtain that closes you off from the door to your room to show you something, “we’re going up the stairs.” There’s a small platform with 3 steps and a railing on either side.

Without further conversation, she’s attempting to help you swing your legs over the edge of the bed to get you standing. You offer no help whatsoever. If she wants you up, she can figure it out herself. She mutters an “I see how it is” to herself before digging in her bag and retrieving a sling. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s not going to let your shit attitude get in the way of your recovery.

You never actively fight these things. You just don’t help. You let her situate the sling under your back with your aching legs hanging over the edge of the hospital bed. You let her hands get a good grip on the handles and pull. She’s strong, and she’s got you on your feet.

It’s grueling. The next 40 minutes is spent being dragged, literally at times, from bed to stairs until this pixie demon made you take at least one step up. The rage keeps you moving. Her comments about how ”maybe you just don’t want to get better”, or “is it really worse than being in that bed? Come on” pushed you to get her to shut up. It became your only thought, get this annoying bitch out of my face before I start swinging.

You know this is how it will go. If you thought that, due to the fact that you almost died yesterday, you’d get a small reprieve, you were mistaken. Your surgeon explains this to you when he stops in your room for 10 minutes to check on you that morning. You knew your mom would have a kitten knowing that she managed to miss him. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow, and that was only if you were lucky.

“We need to encourage the bone to grow and heal through the hollow rod in your femur,” Dr. Greene is delivering this information, as if it will make anything easier, while he lifts your brand new hip joint high enough for your knee to be level with your face. You want to tell him to stop, because it scary and more painful than you want to admit, “See, it’s perfect. Give it a few weeks and you’ll be better than you’ve been in years.”

Time is funny in the hospital, because you fall asleep as soon as he leaves your room, exhausted from his prodding and the unexpected physical therapy visit. You sleep for what feels like hours only to wake up a half hour later when a nurse is at your bedside with a sight you were dreading.

She thinks you’re still sleeping. She probably has no idea that you’re as familiar with the urethral catheter removal kit as anyone not working in healthcare could be. She’s ripping open the sterile package and opening it up on the table that recently held your barely touch breakfast. She starts trying to rouse you while her back is turned and she’s moving the rolling table towards your bed. You can sleep anytime, but right now she has to do this extremely unpleasant task.

You open your eyes and answer in the affirmative to whatever she asks you. It doesn’t matter, you’re going somewhere else for a while. She can do what she needs while you close your eyes. The sun beats down on your face while you lay in the grass. You feel individual blades between your toes and fingers. It’s itchy, and you think you can even feel a stray ant on your arm. It’s fine, he can crawl around and explore the freckles scattered there while you let the sun’s rays lick across your skin.

A sharp pain brings you back to your hospital bed. The nurse seems unperturbed by your yelp, working diligently at your most private place while it’s laid bare in the cold room. You let yourself drift back to the open field where you hear a bumble bee buzz past your closed eyes. Something else is new, a warm hand entangled with your own. You feel cool rings against your warm skin and you know it’s Eddie there with you. You’ve never had anyone else visit this place with you, but it feels so right to have him here. He’s humming a tune while his fingers stroke your knuckles.

You stay there with Eddie, not realizing you have tears pricking at the corner of your eyes until you hear the nurse speaking to you, “sorry, sweetie, but we’re all done. I’ll get you a tissue,” you hear her crumpling up all of the pieces of the catheter that will go into the bin, and you quickly pull the sheet back over your exposed legs.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a minute with your meds, and we can order some lunch.” She leaves the tray next to your bed, now with a box of tissues to wipe away the tears you had shed at the thought of your boyfriend. You want him here, and you want him far away. You want his comfort, and you don’t want him to touch you. You want to be alone, and you need someone here holding your hand. It’s too much, feeling anything at this moment.

You know it’s the drugs, partially, that make you feel like this. You try not to think about needing it because your body was split open. The only thing holding the skin at your hip together being staples and internal stitches until it all heals back together. You try not think about the foreign materials inside replacing the useless dead bones that have to be incinerated. You try not to think about the upcoming pain. The humiliation you know you’ll have to endure. You just hope that being up and moving, despite being something you hate doing, maybe it will help your body re-learn how to have normal bowel movements and allow your bladder muscles to regain their strength.

Lunch comes and goes, and your mom comes back. You’re in and out of consciousness, waking for your regular meds and occasionally when the nurses come to prod and poke at you. You dream of walking barefoot through dewy grass. You dream of Mr. Willis’ classroom, the stench of him so thick you can see it in the air, a green fog filling your nose and throat. You wake up coughing and find your mouth full and chest covered in vomit, the half a turkey sandwich from a few hours ago too much for your aching stomach to handle.

“Eddie’s stopping by in an hour,” your mom is telling you this as she cleans bile out of your hair, “I know it’s not an ideal time, sweetie, but he’s been so persistent. He really loves you, ya know?” You’re too tired for this conversation. Your throat is raw. You want to tell her to make Eddie go home when he comes, but you’re too weak. Besides, your mom will clean you and make you smell nice. It’s not the first time she’s had to do to this type of work, it’s not the first time she’s had to cover up the ugly truth of you to make it easier for the people around you to be feel comfortable. She might even put some makeup on your face while your eyes are resting to give you the appearance of a healthful glow. That was fine. It’s all fine. It will all be fine.

When he gets there, your mom makes an excuse to leave. She stops next to Eddie and says something low that you can’t make out. Immediately, you feel angry and cough out the first words you’ve said in hours, “I’m not a child, you don’t need to whisper behind my back.”

“I was just telling Eddie that your stomach was upset,” your mom’s eyes are pleading for forgiveness while Eddie moves slowly to the chair positioned next to your bed. She sighs a little to herself, points at the little vomit catcher on the table next to you for Eddie to see, and steps around the privacy curtain.

“Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” Eddie is cautiously looking for a place to put his hand so it can touch you, you can see the cogs of his brain turning as his eyes scan the multiple IV spots on both hands. You have enough brain power to turn the hand closest to Eddie over, palm up so he knows he can hold it.

His touch is warm, you hand is icy from the IV fluids running continuously through your veins. No matter what you do, they’re always cold. It feels so nice to have his calloused thumb run along the length of your pointer finger, up and down, up and down. You know you’re going to fall asleep again. But he came to see you. You have to try.

“I don’t feel very good, Ed, and I’m so tired.” Your eyes are closed now and he’s brushing the hair away from your face. It’s still damp from the sponge bath your mom gave you moments before.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here, ok?”

A mercifully dreamless sleep takes over for a while. When you finally open your eyes, it’s dark in the room with only the light of a small lamp in the corner turned on. Eddie is sitting cross legged on the window sill with a notebook and pencil, your mom in the chair next to him, stealing as much light as possible so she can read her paperback. How long had you been allowed to sleep?

“What time is it?” Your voice is weak, and you’re suddenly very thirsty, very hungry, and your bladder is screaming at you. “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom,” you whisper out before either of them can move.

After a little struggle, and some lost modesty as the back of your gown was wide open, you’re mom gets you up on your feet. You know the rules, she’s supposed to get a nurse in to help me to the bathroom, but that could take a while. So, your mom and Eddie, poor unprepared Eddie, helped you up, and let you lean on them while you hobbled to the adjacent bathroom.

As you sit on the porcelain seat, willing your bladder muscles to work, taking deep breaths, begging your body to do a thing that most people will never know can be so incredibly complicated, you worry about Eddie. You know how this looks from your perspective, it’s misery. The first days after a surgery like this are always terrible, but the added stress your body has been through the last few years and the blood transfusion, it’s left you weak and helpless. You try to imagine what you must look like through his eyes.

A trickle of warmth leaks out of you, and you practically cry with joy. You knew if you couldn’t do it right now the nurse would have to come back and re-cath you to relieve your bladder. You can see from the back of you mom’s head in the corner of the small bathroom that she’s doing a little cheer to herself. She also understands, she might be the only one in your life that knows how bad it can get.

The room is still dark when you re-enter, your arm around your mom’s waist to steady you while you drag the IV pole behind you. The adrenaline of being able to use the bathroom is fading fast, and you’re ready to get back into your bed. You spot her, a nurse, in the corner talking to Eddie while arranging pillows around the big chair and you know what’s next.

Eddie’s quick to meet you and your mom, and to fill you in, “Hey, baby, the nurse said you should sit up for a while, ok?” You don’t like his tone, and you can’t help the frown on your face. You hate being talked to like a child, hate people making plans without your consent, even for something as simple as sitting in a chair.

“Fine.” You can feel Eddie tense up at your tone, while he guides you to the chair. You address the nurse as you lower yourself slowly, “how long do you want me here?” Everything hurts and is uncomfortable. You know the pain meds are strong, but they can’t reach every signal your body is throwing at you. Your nerves screaming that something is wrong with you. It was exhausting having to ignore it and do the work.

You had been warned before your surgery that it would be like this. Not like some of your other surgeries, a hip replacement requires immediate work and physical therapy. Too much rest was the enemy, you had to get yourself moving.

“Oh, I don’t know, let’s see if we can get at least 30 minutes. How’s that sound?” Her beaming smile puts you on edge, but you just nod and let Eddie put a stool under your feet, fussing with it to make sure it would be comfortable.

The three of you sat, Eddie back on the window sill and your mom at the edge of your bed, for an hour. If nothing else, you would stubbornly do more than they expected. It was in your nature to prove something, to be better than you need to be. Feel less pain, heal faster, get the fuck out of this hospital room as soon as you can.

When they help you back in the bed, finally, you don’t have anything to say to anyone. No words, despite the friendly conversation your mom and Eddie had carried on the whole time. The nurse brought your prescribed dinner, a gross chicken breast with mashed potatoes and green beans. It all smelled the same, like the disinfectant that covered every surface of the hospital. You manage the mashed potatoes, praying to a god you don’t believe in that it will stay in your stomach and not make a surprise reappearance in an hour.

When Eddie finally says goodbye, he’s been sitting next to you for a while stroking your hair. His eyebrows pinched in concern at your lack of response to him. You want to tell him you’re sorry. You want to tell him to pick you up and take you home. You don’t want to be here anymore. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t get yourself out of the darkness. You feel surrounded by pain and memories. The hospital always brings out the worst in you.

And this is how it goes. Every day for the next 4, each progressively better. Your recovery is going “exceptionally well” according to Dr. Greene. He can’t believe how fast it’s moving, but to you it’s like you’re stuck in molasses. Everything is hard. The first bowel movement you have on day 3 comes with the aid of suppositories. You have to insist that your mom come up with an excuse to keep Eddie away from your room that afternoon when you heard the nurse’s plan to get your intestines back on track. It’s also the same day that the IVs come out, which means you have more control over your meds. You can even get to the bathroom alone, with the help of a walker.

On day 4, Eddie doesn’t visit. He calls, apologizing profusely. And you feel like you know. This is what you expected. You tell him it’s fine, who wants to be sit and be bored at the hospital? You let him tell you about how excited he is for his new campaign. You let him tell you how much he misses you. If he misses me, why didn’t he come? You wish you could reach through the phone line to touch his face. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for anything bad he’s found out about who you are. You’re so sorry, you don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to leave you. Please, don’t leave me. Please, I’ll be better soon. I’m so sorry.

He has no idea that you’re barely holding on, tears streaming down your face. Alone in your hospital room while he gives you latest gossip about Dustin and his imaginary girlfriend. You even manage to laugh a little. You tell him you miss him, clearing your throat so he can’t hear the break in your voice.

You fall asleep that night contemplating the end of your relationship with Eddie. He was too kind to do it while you laid in this fucking bed. He’ll wait until you’re home. He’ll wait until you’re back at school. He might even wait until after you both graduate. But you know he will. You can’t blame him. You tried to tell him, in the best way you knew how. Tomorrow you get to go home, but all you can think about is how alone you are. You told your mom to sleep in her own bed tonight, you’d be fine. And you are, but you’re not. Why can’t they see that you’re not ok?

“Good morning, baby.” Your eyes are so heavy, you feel like you’ve been asleep for days. You know it’s Eddie’s hand on your arm, it’s his voice ringing in your head. You wonder for a moment if you’re delusional or dreaming. He’s not the only one here, your mom, dad, and Sun are all in the room with you.

“What time is it?” It’s your first thought. Your eyes can’t focus on the clock positioned on the wall across the room. You’re realizing what this is, it’s Saturday morning, you’re supposed to be released. Don’t these people know it will be hours before that actually happens.

“It’s 8. I brought you some breakfast,” you can’t stop the little groan that leaves your mouth at the thought of another hospital meal, but you see Eddie’s holding up a brown bag, “don’t tell the nurse but I brought you sausage McMuffin.

“Oooooohhhh,” you grab the bag out of his hand, the thought of sinking your teeth into the greasy mess. The first bite is heaven, “oh my god, Eddie, I could fucking kiss you right now,” you can’t even care that your mouth is full when you practically moan the words to him. “Oh my god, did you get me a hashbrown too?”

“Who knew you were such a cheap date, Ilene?” Eddie’s practically glowing at your reaction to his little gift. “I figured you’d be sick of the shitty hospital food.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming. You should go home, Eddie. It’s gonna be a while before I can get out of here.” His face falls a little, and you immediately regret suggesting he leave. “I’m sorry,” you reach out for his arm and smile at him, “I want you here, I just don’t want you to have to sit around all day with me.”

He waves it off, and pulls an extra chair next to the bed, “you look so good today,” his hand cups your face and it sends a wave of pleasure through your chest. His words make you laugh, though. You know how you look, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror when you took a piss at 5 am. You had been excited about getting to the bathroom on your own, but grimaced when you caught your reflection. Your eyes were hollow looking with dark purple circles surrounding them. Your cheeks looked thin and pale. Your hair was stringy. You knew the first thing you’d do when you got back home was take a shower, assuming you’d have the energy.

“I’m serious, you’ve got color in your cheeks,” Eddie looks back to make sure your parents aren’t listening and he leans in close to your ear, “I’ve been thinking about all the ways I can help bring that glow back to your face, as soon as you’re up for it.”

“Eddie, don’t be a pervert, my parents are in the room,” your giggle does bring the attention of your mom, and you give her a tight lipped look. You lower your voice so only he can hear you, “Listen here, loverboy, it’s gonna be a while. I’m sorry.”

“No, do not apologize,” Eddie puts his hand through his hair in exasperation at himself, “I’ve just been thinking about it because I’ve been doing a little research.”

“Research? On sex? I mean, what?” This entire absurd conversation was happening at whisper level while your parents and your stepmom were just out of earshot, but he couldn’t leave you hanging.

“Oh, uh, I hope it’s ok, but I asked one of the nurses for resources about post hip replacement, uh, intimacy. You wouldn’t believe how much information there is about this stuff.” His eyes go wide at the memory, and you laugh thinking about Eddie hunched over sex pamphlets geared towards geriatric sex.

It’s a whirlwind after he drops that bomb, but the joy of the moment shared between you and him stays with you through the rest of the morning. The nurses come in with a stack of paperwork for your parents to fill out while the evil physical therapist makes you take your new hip for one last spin before she sets you free. It’s shocking, but you’re taking steps without any walking aids 5 days post-surgery. Your stubbornness doesn’t allow you to thank her for her help, but your mom happily does. By 11, you’ve been told that they’re sending a wheelchair up for you.

Your dad and Sun kiss you goodbye at the passenger side door of your mom’s sedan. This is the first time leaving the hospital after surgery without being locked tight in a cast or cumbersome brace. You feel hopeful. It’s a shock. You think, maybe this is going to work out, as if you never expected it to.

This is the first moment you’ve allowed yourself to think that way. You feel the temptation to push back, to throw that hope away, but you stop yourself. You let it sit. You let it travel through your body. You let that hope move from the top of your head to the ends of your toes. You embrace it. You close your mind to the thoughts you entertained last night, because right now, your goofy boyfriend is sitting in the backseat of your mom’s car, fiddling the ends of your hair while The Bangels blares from the speakers. And Eddie doesn’t say a word about it.

“I know what you said, and I don’t care. I am not wearing that dress.” Your mom is standing just inside the doorway of your bedroom with a white linen dress in her hand. She picked it up especially for the occasion, even after you told her that you would walk down the aisle, but absolutely not in a white dress. Tradition be damned.

“You’ll be the only one dressed like,” she’s waving dramatically at your choice of black jeans and black boots with a Corroded Coffin t shirt, “that.”

“You know I won’t be.” You’re applying the cherry red lipstick you bought especially for today, especially for Eddie. “And it’s a surprise for him. When I take off the gown, he’ll probably pass out.” You pop you lips together on a piece of tissue, “Totally worth it.”

It’s been exactly 6 weeks since you left the hospital. Full release from your surgeon. The only restrictions, which are lifelong restrictions – no skiing, no running, and no pivoting on the hip. Everything else? Go for it. He even spoke to you privately about sex, telling you that you should have no problem having a perfectly normal sex life. You’d wanted to crawl under the exam table during the conversation, you could feel the heat in your face, but Dr. Greene didn’t seem bothered. It was important information to have. He was vested in your full recovery and successful return to all of the normal life stuff. You were his perfect example of how a hip replacement in a young adult should look. (Except for the almost dying in the operating room, which he’s made no mention of since you left the hospital.)

You’ve been working on your gait. To the absolute confusion of your doctor, your left leg is a full 2 inches shorter than your right, and the muscles are weak. He insists that there’s no reason for the difference in leg lengths, but it’s still there. His offer to prescribe shoes with added lifts was met with a scoff from you. You wouldn’t be limited in your footwear. Even if it means you’ll have to deal with the consequences of it down the line.

The boots you’re wearing today you bought a week ago when you started your new job at the Shoe Circus. It’s only 15 hours a week, and you were technically supposed to wait until Dr. Greene released you for work, but you felt good and ready to do some normal teenager stuff. Like, have a shitty part-time retail job and tromp around in the woods with your boyfriend.

Your cane, specially adapted by the man himself, is waiting for you by the front door. You know that Principal Higgins will have a stroke if he sees the skull’s head handle that Eddie picked up somewhere. He just laughs and tells you, “I have my ways, Ilene, don’t worry about it,” when you ask him. The cane, though, can stay in your mom’s car. You shouldn’t need it for the ceremony.

When you arrive at the school, the parking lot is full, but you immediately spot Eddie’s van parked in the back by the trail that heads into the woods. You don’t see him, though, and he usually sticks out in the Hawkins crowd.

It’s not until you’re sat on the stage in alphabetical order that you spot him. He’s racing to the steps on the side of the stage, cap in hand and gown flowing behind him. He has the appearance of someone that just barely made it in time, which is weird because his van was in the parking lot when you arrived a half an hour ago. He manages to sneak to his seat with minimal damage, although you catch him trip over someone’s foot.

The ceremony is long and boring, and you’re so ready to get out of the building you wonder why you agreed to come in the first place. Mom wants you here. Your mom earned this, seeing her daughter walk for graduation, get her diploma, throw her cap in the air. So, you sit still and let your mind go back to the field with Eddie, your special spot, a place where time is meaningless and all that matters is you and him. Except this time, you really get to have that. You get to feel that grass between your toes, Eddie’s hand in yours, the sun beating down on your face. You just have to get through this tiresome ordeal.

Your mom gets her moment, you see her camera flashing its bulb as you shake hands with Principal Higgins, despite the “no flash photography” rule written out on the programs at the auditorium entrance. Your mom also gets to see you goofy ass boyfriend snatch his diploma out of Higgins’ hand and flip him off before he runs out of one of the side doors. It’s so stupid and ridiculous, but what do you expect? It’s Eddie.

Eddie’s shenanigans earn a big laugh from the corner of the auditorium. The Hellfire Club let out hoots and hollers of joy, their leader finally getting the fuck out of this prison. The club wanted to immediately start partying after the ceremony, and you had to do a lot of begging for them to let you steal Ed away for a while. A party was happening in 2 nights. You expect you’ll be taking care of a very sick boyfriend that night.

You let your mom take pictures of you holding your diploma, just like all the other parents are doing. She kisses you, she hugs you, she looks like she’s going to cry – these are all things that make you desperately uncomfortable, but you let her do them. And when she leaves, you know she feel satisfied and proud, so it’s worth it.

You’ve got your cane, and you ditched your robe in the trunk of your mom’s car before she left. You reapplied your lipstick and grabbed your purse. Now all you needed to do is find Eddie. You spot him leaning against his van, cigarette in hand. He was waiting for you. The closer you get, the more you can focus on his frame. Tall and thin, his curls fluffy and framing his face. You swear he’s doing it on purpose, standing in a spot where the sun rays whisper through the tree canopy and make him practically glow.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?” He catches you with his eyes, a wide smile that turns into wide eyes and a gaping mouth. You do a little twirl for him to catch sight of your very tight jeans. The corroded coffin shirt is cut into a crop top exposing a scandalous amount of skin.

“Holy shit, Ilene, were you wearing that during graduation?” As soon as you were within arm’s reach he pulled you into him, pressing your body against his. He feels like he’s on fire already, “Baby, baby, baby, mmmmm, come here, let me show you something.” He’s nuzzling at your neck like a cat, rubbing himself against you like he can’t control himself. You knew he’d like the outfit, but this is beyond what you could have expected.

Eddie was nervous about being with you. A part of the deal you made with each other was to be completely honest about any fear either of you might have about being intimate, no matter what the reason. Despite everything the doctor told you, what the pamphlets told him, and how using your hands on each other seemed to only fuel the fire you both felt, he kept telling you he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you.

“What do you want to show me, Ed? If it’s your cock, I’m fairly well acquainted with it already. Although I don’t mind getting to know it a little better,” Eddie’s groan in response is muffled by your hair, “but don’t we have plans?”

“Mmm, yeah, but let me show you first, ok?” Eddie breathes in the scent of your neck deeply before pulling himself away and taking your hand to lead you to the back of the van. When he opens the doors, his eyes are focused on your face. He wants to see your reaction to his surprise. To see the moment you take in the care he put into this.

Eddie has known since the first moments he spent with you that it was right. Everything about you made him feel. He embraced the feeling because he knew you couldn’t do that. You were so raw, an open wound moving around the school, oozing anger, sadness, and a kind of strength he couldn’t help but want to get close to. His initial goal was to get you to smile for him, and the first time he did, he was addicted. Everything he desired in life paled in comparison to the feeling he got when he heard you laugh, or when he heard you say his name. It sent a thrill through his body every time.

You are the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he wants to hold and protect you. He wants to laugh with you. He wants to be with you while he sees you unfurl your wings and fly away from all of the pain you’ve known for so long. He counts himself as extremely lucky to have been sent to Principal Higgins for detention all those weeks ago. He knows he never would have reached that graduation stage without you, and he can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much you’ve offered him in the short time you’ve known him.

Today, he wants to show you everything. Rip open his chest to hand over his still beating heart for you to hold. Because he knows you would protect it in the same way he knows he would protect yours. You gave him his future, he’s sure of it.

“Eddie, is that an air mattress?” You reach out to feel it underneath the soft bedding he has it made up with and you know the answer before he can speak it.

“No, baby, it’s a pillow top mattress, super soft, right?” The entire back of his van is made up like a makeshift bedroom, complete with extra soft looking pillows and a curtain between the front and the back for privacy. You see a foam wedge pillow set in the corner, and peep a picnic basket with a blanket folded underneath it, “I was thinking, since we don’t get a whole lot of private time, we could use this as a makeshift spot to, uh, mmmm,” you interrupt his train of thought backing yourself into him, letting your hips push against him. You reach your arm back and put your fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to your neck, “yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Eddie has to peel you off him to get you into the front seat of the van. You’re ready to test the bed in the high school parking lot, but he has other plans. His plans are better.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, just that he had already told your mom to not expect you back until tomorrow. The freedom of that information, something that only a month ago would have set your nerves alight, has you floating. The pain is real, it’s still there, but it feels more tangible. It feels like the pain that accompanies healing and growth, because it is. Your bones and muscles are literally growing stronger every day and the thought of spending the night in the back of Eddie’s van doesn’t terrify you. You can do that, and probably quite comfortably.

Especially because he made a space for you. He keeps doing that, making room, adjusting things without even realizing it. It makes your heart swell, seeing and feeling the care he takes in everything that comes with being your boy. He’s shined a light into all of your dark places and shrugged at the horrors, pushing them away from you and filling your life with an easy peace.

“Alright, so remember that, uh time we had out here a few weeks ago?” You’re pulling up to Lovers Lake, a secluded section you hadn’t realized even existed, “I was walking around out here contemplating life last week, and I found this little road and, well, no one comes out here.” He throws the van into park and wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Pretty, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, Ed. Real pretty.” You tell him while you gaze at his profile. He’s the most beautiful boy you’ve ever met. And you love him.

It’s hot dogs over a fire for dinner, with jello cups for dessert. He brought a bottle of wine, cheap gas station chardonnay that makes you giggly. You take your shoes and socks off to dip your toes in the cool lake water. Eddie fetches sticks to roast marshmallows. You decide camping is fun when you do it with him, especially when you know home is no more than a 20 minute drive away. For all it matters, you could be hours away from civilization with how brightly the moon light glows across the surface of the lake.

“You know, Eddie, I’ve got to tell you something very important,” it’s a reversal, Eddie’s got his head resting in your lap while you sit on a log bench at the lake edge. You’re running your hands through his hair while his eyes close. It smells like summer out here and the peepers are singing a song for you and your boy, “I love you, did you know that?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but a smirk starts playing on his lips at your words. “Oh, you love me?” He whispers it, like it’s a secret between you and the woods, “I love you too, Ilene. I love you so fucking much I feel like my heart’s gonna explode every time I think about you.”

“No, don’t do that, it sounds like it would hurt, Ed.” You stroke his cheek with the backs of your fingers, “Eddie, do you want to go to bed?” You let your hand slip down into his shirt running your finger along his collarbone where his skin is so incredibly soft. You lean down to whisper, again as if in secret, “I saw that piece of foam in the corner of your van, did you maybe have something else planned for us tonight.”

His eyes finally peek open while he giggles goofily, “Maybe, baby, what do you think about that, hmm?” One of his eyes is squinted shut and the other is watching for your reaction. “Want to consummate this thing finally? We’ve got all the time in the world, and no one to bother us.”

Hand in hand, you make your way to your room for the evening. It’s so much cozier than it should be, and you know it’s because Eddie is with you. It takes no time at all for you to get lost in him – surrounded by his scent and touch, he whispers against your skin. You feel so much by the time you’re both under the warm blankets, nude forms pressing against each other while your mouths move in sync.

“I want to try something,” the heat of his breath on your neck has every hair on your body standing on end, he’s stroking your side with whispered touches. “Tell me if you can’t, but I, uh, really want you to sit on my face.”

You’re groan at his words is almost a yelp. You’re throbbing, he’s worked you up with his gentle touching, and you’ve let him. You know it’s worth it, taking your time will ease any pains that might sneak up on you. I really want you to sit on my face. Your rocking hips tell you that you really want that too.

Eddie’s props his head up at an awkward angle. Much higher than could be comfortable, but his features are written with want as he watches you bring your leg over his face. You want to watch him as he strokes himself, but he’s insistent that you face the other way, at least at first. He’s so pretty, pale skin with scatters of ink. His perfect cock, pink and hard as his hand lazily works his length. You do what he asked, trusting him, and face the front of the van resting your hands on the back of the seat.

“Look how pretty she is, she’s crying for me Babe.” You’ve lost the chance to respond when his broad tongue licks against you, dipping inside. And now you know why he wanted it like this, because he pulls you gently down onto his face. His nose nudges at your sensitive and swollen clit while his tongue wastes no time fucking into you. Your hands are at your tits, playing with your nipples because you don’t need to brace yourself, Eddie’s fully got you. Any concern you have about him not being able to breathe is gone when you hear him moaning and his hand stroking his cock even faster.

You want to tell him not to cum, no you want him in your mouth, but your grinding so hard against his mouth and nose seeking your pleasure you don’t have the words. Your orgasm slams into you hard, every muscle in your body tenses, you can feel your thighs trap Eddie’s head even tighter than before. You’re panting and whining as white heat tears through your brain and you spasm around Eddie’s tongue. Wave after wave until you drop against the back of the bench seat. Eddie taps your outer thigh to remind you that you’re, in fact, still sitting on his face.

You waste no time in climbing off of him, a little stiff but the orgasm haze still has you loose. You feel wild with desire when you kiss him and find his face absolutely drenched in your arousal. Like an animal, you lick a stripe up his cheek, tongue rubbing against his stubble. “Please, Eddie, please. I need you inside of me now.”

Eddie looks blissed to the max, and you can see that he came while you were using him. He’s soft, so you climb down to work your mouth against him. You let your tongue pick up his spend, moving around his base to clean his mess.

“Oh, fuck,” he squeaks out at the feel of your mouth. He’s growing hard, his tip starting to weep again, “Baby, stop, I’ll cum again.”

“How do you want me, Eddie.” Your hand is wrapped around his length, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. He can’t believe his eyes. You look like a goddess, mascara smudged under your eyes, nipples hard and pressed against his thigh. It takes a little effort, but he remembers his research and pulls you to him.

The position he has you in is fail proof, and he has no desire to fuck this up. You both need this right now. You’re back pulled into his chest, his mouth has access to your neck. He brushes your hair away and attaches his mouth to your shoulder while shifts and maneuvers your hips to allow him better access. “Tell me if it hurts.”

He presses into you slowly, and his teeth sink into you shoulder. He groans into your skin, your cunt is clenching him with every inch he gives you. He’s grounding himself inside of you while running a hand down your outer thigh brushing against your scars. You rock back into him, you have no words to tell him what you need so you show him.

A hard and slow rhythm, moving together while he reaches deeper and deeper inside of you. A knot forming inside of you, he’s nudging spots you’ve never been able to reach before. You’re both whining out “I love yous”, his fingers against your clit and the bomb detonates. Your orgasm creates lights flashing against your eyelids, tears are running down your cheeks. Eddie’s sobs of pleasure at the feeling of you clamping onto him bring another wave of pleasure. Your third orgasm of the evening has you spent completely, and Eddie stills inside of you.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” you finish your thought with a groan that turns into a little yelp as he pull himself free of you.

“I love you so much,” you turn to find Eddie with tears in his eyes. You lay that way, face to face stroking your faces for an endless amount of time. Sloppy kisses, breath against lips, sweat cooling against your skin while you bask in the glow of your shared love.

Eddie hasn’t told you this yet, but he’s registered for classes at the local community college for the fall. An HVAC program, and he’s already got an apprenticeship lined up. He’ll wait a while to ask, but he’s already signed a lease on an apartment just outside of Hawkins. He needed to find a ground level unit with easy access to a parking lot. It has a little patio where you can put your herb garden.

You haven’t told him yet, either, that you’re ready for everything that comes next, because he’ll be with you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

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hazyange1s · 2 months

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1901 (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

so. I generated the middle photo with midjourney months ago and people on tiktok seemed to like it 😂 probably because we are desperately in need of some happy endings….

which brought my aching little heart to write a painfully self-indulgent one-shot based off of said picture (ft. my two brainchildren). this is from October and I’m cringing; I feel like I’ve improved a bit since but we’re here for vibes so who cares.

Synopsis: the year is 1901, and after a lifetime of dealing with the turmoil he became so accustomed to, Sebastian has finally gotten everything he could ever want. a night with his wife and best friends reminds him exactly how lucky he is.

Warnings: slightly suggestive reference (but still keepin it SFW), dad!Seb and Ominis, tooth-rotting fluff, aged up characters, alcohol use, pregnancy, not edited just raw word vomit

The stone and wood that made up Hogsmeade had hardly weathered since the first year Sebastian could remember coming, when he was a sprightly six year old boy with his parents. Back then, the buildings had looked larger than life. The people seemed wonderful and strange and extraordinary; their wands aloft to float signs or move merchandise. He had tugged on the folds of his mother's skirt upon staring with rapt attention, whining, "Mummy! When do *I* get to make things fly?"

"Soon, sweetling." His mother had smiled, the most beautiful sight he could comprehend at that tender age. "Soon, you yourself could be flying above the clouds."

Now, Sebastian found himself doing just that.

Cold wood bit into the callouses of his palms, which gripped the handle of his broom securely as the biting October wind tousled his dark hair into knots. He might have already frozen solid where he sat, had it not been the warming charm on his coat and the heat of his wife's smaller body pressed up against his back.

She shouted something just then amidst the roar of the wind in his ears. Sebastian turned for a split second to get a glimpse of the wide grin on her flushed, freckled cheeks.

The most beautiful sight in the world to him now.

"What?" He chuckled, turning back around as they neared the stone path leading into the quaint village.

"I said; they're going to have our heads for being late, so you better take full responsibility." Raegan repeated with her lips grazing Sebastian's ear.

Another laugh was dragged from his dry throat. Raegan had a special ability that when beyond just her fire-wielding, ancient magic, and skills on a broom. She was also one of the only people in the world who could make him laugh without really trying.

"I don't suppose you want me to tell them WHY?" Sebastian replied wryly as they landed and climbed stiffly off of the broom. The feeling of solid ground beneath their feet was a certainly a relief after miles of dark skies above the Highlands.

Raegan gave him a taunting little smirk that he'd come to understand was one she reserved especially for her husband. "Doubt you'll have to. It's hard to hide anything from those two. Ominis will probably sniff us out the moment we enter the pub."

She smoothed down the wild, russet tangle of waves Sebastian had run his hands through just an hour ago as they walked hand in hand over the bridge. He smiled at the memory as if he could still feel the softness of each lock between his fingers.

"I have considered the theory that he's part bloodhound."

The pair came to the familiar, flickering facade of the Three Broomsticks, pausing just outside when Sebastian tugged on Raegan’s hand to bring her to a stop beside him (a feat in itself, really).

“You know…” he mused, eyes crinkling at her questioning look. “Technically, we had our first date here.”

“If you call nearly getting…what were the words you used? Pulverized by a troll a romantic outing.” She laughed.

“Don’t forget the bar fight you nearly got me into. Honestly, it’s a wonder I managed to stick around for so long, with all the trouble you bring.”

The words were made in obvious jest and followed by an affectionate press of his winter-chapped lips to her temple. Because they both knew damn well that trouble was Sebastian’s middle name (it could replace Alexander for all he cared), and that chaotic whirlwind of a fifth year when they’d met was precisely what had him falling head over heels for her in record time.

“Well, as much as I love a good troll fight…the only thing you have to be scared of tonight is Ominis.”

A half-hearted scoff had Sebastian’s breath clouding in the air. “I wasn’t scared.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wet yourself.”

“I was not scared!”

Raegan grinned indulgently at her husband, who rolled his eyes at the all-too-familiar teasing. Still, Sebastian found himself imitating her expression as he pulled her flush against his side and leaned down to fit his mouth to hers.

How many times had he enjoyed the saccharine taste that clung to every bit of her skin? It was far, far too many to count, surely, and the proof was in the way their lips moulded together like two pieces of a well-loved puzzle.

A rush of warmth hit their wind-chapped skin once the couple had finally broken apart, Sebastian opening the door for his distinctly kiss-drunk wife.

The Three Broomsticks was just as he remembered, too. Sirona, ever the dedicated businesswoman, spotted them instantly and offered a friendly wave. That was almost certainly Mr. Pippin and Mr. Hill chatting jovially over pints, and that blasted portrait of Ferdinand Pratt that had somehow withstood the ire of the patrons.

Raegan breathed the smallest of fires into her cupped hands before rubbing them together to generate more heat. It was not needed, though; for their friends had clearly planned ahead and already snagged the table just adjacent to the roaring hearth in the back center of the first floor.

Ominis's corn silk hair seemed to reflect its golden light, acting as a beacon for the Gyrffindor and Slytherin alumni to meander their way through the crowd and plop down eagerly at the round mahogany table.

"I was just about to send a Patronus if you hadn't shown up in the next five minutes." Diana gave them both an exasperated look, her brows shooting up as she took in their disheveled appearances. "Did you fly here?"

"Of course we did. It's a gorgeous night." Raegan leaned in to give her lifelong friend (sister might have been a more accurate term) a hug, despite the smaller girl's grumbling.

Ominis, who had his arm slung casually against the back of his wife’s chair, shook his head at Sebastian and Raegan like a disappointed father. It was a gesture so familiar to them both that it had been permanently seared in the back of their minds.

"Well, while you two were wasting time doing god knows what and flying fifty miles instead of Apparating like reasonable people, we've already been through half a flagon of wine." Ominis held up his half-full goblet as evidence.

The Hogwarts Professor was usually not one to indulge so heavily, but with the start of a new school year keeping him busy and his youngest daughter clinging to the chaos of her terrible twos, Sebastian supposed he had more than enough reason tonight.

"Well, you know me. I'll catch up in no time." Sebastian said with a roguish grin as he poured the rich, sweet-smelling liquid into a goblet that had clearly been waiting patiently for him.

Ominis, ever the gentleman, waved his wand to take serve Raegan from the flagon next, its contents tipping into a fourth cup.

"Oh, er...none for me, Ominis; thank you." Raegan said politely, the flush from the cold now returning for an entirely different reason.

His eyebrows furrowed into a mask of disbelief, as though the very fabric of the world had suddenly been torn open. "Are you ill? Or has someone taken Polyjuice Potion and replaced your wife, Sebastian?"

Raegan couldn't help but pair her laugh with an eye roll at Ominis's over dramatic display of surprise over her refusal to drink. Though she supposed it was true, there were very few times in her life she'd turned down a casual drink.

"Oh my-"

Diana's soft gasp broke the suspenseful silence, her pale, delicate fists causing ripples in their goblets as they collided with the table's surface. "I knew it! I told you that dream was a vision, Ominis!"

Now it was Raegan and Sebastian's turn to look confused, their shifting eyes replacing the self-indulgent grins they'd donned long before they'd arrived in the village.

"What dream?" Raegan asked, grabbing her friend's hand to recapture the raven-haired Seer's attention. "What did you see?"

Sebastian could see the tension in her grip, the light reflected by the fireplace that shone in her brilliant amber eyes. She had been dying to share this news; and if he knew her at all, Raegan was nearly bursting to deliver it herself before Diana could answer.

But it appeared her curiosity had won out over her flair for the dramatics at the present moment.

Diana beamed when she met Raegan’s imploring stare. Her voice had lowered, as if sharing an important secret.

"Last week, I dreamt of a little girl. She had the most beautiful auburn hair. Plus these adorable freckles and big, brown eyes. She was playing outside your house with a boy who looked exactly like Samuel, if he were ten years older."

Sebastian and Raegan both sported round, awestruck eyes that flickered to each other before they returned to Diana.

"Wait, I'm having a girl?" Raegan squealed, getting miles ahead of herself while Sebastian put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.

"It's a girl?!" He gaped at the same moment.

Now, his other two friends were forgotten; his gaze solely on his exuberant wife, tears brimming despite himself.

A girl. It seemed all too perfect. A daughter and a son. Just like him and Anne, and Raegan and her brother Ronan.

"Oh...sur...prise?" Diana smiled sheepishly. "So, are you going to say it, or not?"

"It seems pointless now, since you’ve stolen my spotlight," Raegan raised her brow playfully in the beautiful Seer's direction. "But yes...I'm pregnant!"

Ominis's face broke into a huge smile, its brilliance so rare the honor was rarely bestowed upon anyone , save for the three people seated at the table now.

"Congratulations, Raegan. And you, Sebastian."

Diana began to gush as she hopped up from her seat, throwing her arms around her best friend once more. "This is amazing! How far along are you? Do you have any names picked out yet? How's your morning sickness? Mine was positively awful with both of the girls, I couldn't-"

Ominis chuckled affectionately at her elation. Gently, he placed a guiding hand on her arm to bring her back down to Earth - which was usually her least favorite place to be. "Darling, you're doing it again. Let her breathe for a moment."

To her credit, Diana looked positively pink as she relented and settled back down in her chair without losing her grin.

"Sorry, Rae. I'm just...so happy for you two."

"To answer your questions as my poor wife gathers herself, Di," Sebastian echoed Ominis's affectionate sound with his fingers intertwining through Raegan's. "She's seven weeks along, which is why we weren't sure about telling you just yet. But i suppose now is as good a time as any. And, for names, we were thinking-"

"Kassady Anne." Raegan jumped in for him, squeezing his hand as if she could pour all the love she had into that one gesture.

Diana almost teared up at this revelation, as Ominis let out an uncharacteristic, "aww". The namesakes of Raegan's late mother and Sebastian's only sister. It hadn't been a very difficult decision to come to. Though Sebastian had tried to insist on Anne as the first name in their hypothetical discussions.

"Fair warning," Ominis broke in, a knowing grin stretching his pale face. "Your second child will be your undoing. Little menace; our Gwen."

"Hey, I'm a second child." Raegan retorted, though her offense was clearly falsified. Nothing could break through the bubble of pure joy that seemed to radiate from her like the rays of the sun.

"I think you're proving his point, my love." Sebastian smirked. He barely dodged the well-aimed elbow to his side with a soft sound of indignation.

Ominis raised his glass once more after happily listening to the familiar sounds of his friends' excited chatter. "To Helen, Gwen, Sam, and Kassady-may they leave their own remarkable legacy on the world under our expert guidance."

The four of them all laughed, the sound like a chorus of church bells signifying the end of a long, fulfilling day. Three glasses of wine and one filled with water were raised in celebration, connecting the circle of lifelong friends with a resounding clink.

It had been over ten years since they'd all first sat in this pub together. Back then, the topics of conversation had centered around the goblin rebellion, Professor Black's latest warpath, and the homework that had led to countless sleepless nights.

In a way, things hadn't changed all that much. Except the rebellions now came in the form of arrests made by Raegan at the Auror's office or the tantrums of Ominis and Diana's three year old daughter. War was still in the backs of their minds, but for the most part their arms had been laid down in favor of peace.

And the sleepless nights, well...

Sebastian's mind again wandered back to the blissful visit of his youth. How he'd been unsatisfied with his feet on the ground, longing to soar above the rest.

Now, he got to feel like that every day of his life. No broom required.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #harry potter #hogwarts legacy mc #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hides after posting cuz it’s my first writing on tumblr

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holdinbacksecrets · 2 years

Note

Oh in conjunction to the last ask by an anon can I request something like svt taking care of drunk s/o?

Looking forward to more of your works 🥰

thank you for saying that and requesting! cheol’s is suggestive 18+

seungcheol: is shocked to receive a call from your friend that the evening’s designated driver is trashed. probably laughs to himself as he grabs his keys and drives to the bar. takes a minute to coax you into his car because you’re having a hard time believing he’s your boyfriend. “are you sure? you’re incredibly attractive, and i’m not saying that because i don’t think i’m hot or something. i am. i’m so hot, but shit. have you seen me naked a lot? can i see you naked? maybe that would jog my wine mind.”

jeonghan: opens the front door of your apartment to be met by you and your exhausted looking friend. “she’s a bit…sad” but he knew what to expect. you’re consistently sad after drinking, and he offers soft coos as you waddle to the living room, asking him to lay down before covering his body with your own. “do you feel better, sweetheart?” “mhmm”

joshua: tries not to laugh at your permanent frown and flushed cheeks. your hands are fisted, constantly rubbing your eyes, clearly exhausted but far from ready to end the night. you finally let him take you home when you fall asleep on the table after screaming along to cher with all the energy you could muster

jun: sends texts throughout the night to make sure you’re alright. reminds you he can come at any point if that’s what you want. ‘i’m pine. wit mah girlz’ but he sits in the parking lot reading and drives you home, gets you ready for bed, stays the night, and makes your breakfast in the morning

wonwoo: sits with you on the curb outside of the bar for 3 hours while you watch the moon

soonyoung: in the morning, you wake up to a hundred messages in the group chat, realizing someone dressed you up as a tiger because it was the only way he’d ever get you in that damn halloween costume. “please don’t be mad at me. you looked adorable! orange is your color” “…i’m going to the cafe around the corner to get something highly caffeinated. that costume better be gone by the time i’m back”

jihoon: *laughter* but he carries you home (it’s only up the street, though. no biggie)

seokmin: fully engaged in your senseless stories that sound a lot like your weirdest dreams. gets you ready for bed and giggles every time you start sucking any part of him your lips capture

mingyu: “babe, please let me put your socks back on. your feet are freezing.” instead, you cover your hands and cry when you can’t find your thumbs

minghao: the poor guy thought it would be a good idea to take you to the convenience store for a hangover cure, but you’re embarrassing him. “ok, now everyone knows that i’m from seventeen. there are some plushies by the door. should you tell them too?” but he kisses your forehead as soon as your expression falls. “…i love you” “and he loves me! did you all hear?!” “i’m so sorry. this moment will plague me for life”

seungkwan: he’s never seen you drink anything besides a single glass of red wine, but tonight you got your hands on whiskey and a 2000s playlist so… lol. finally convinces you it’s time to head home after mumbling your way through genie in a bottle. rolls down the window as soon as you’re in the car because he’s afraid you’ll vomit, and then he’ll vomit, but you don’t mind because the cool breeze feels like heaven on your hot skin. “dogs are so smart, boo. they’ve got life figured out. i could stay like this forever”

hansol: looks so endearing helping you down the hallway to your front door, with your purse around his neck, and your right shoe held tightly in his grip. “honey, let’s not knock on everyone’s door, ok? it’s nearly 3am”

chan: he keeps a little pouch in his glove compartment with all the necessities for “drunk you”. drunk you pouch includes the following: starbursts(only the yellow and pink ones), a picture of your cat wearing a hat, dried lavender, and the keys to your parents garden store because sometimes you like to stop by and play a song or two on their jukebox

#this was fun to write #boyfriend things #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #jeonghan fluff #joshua fluff #jun scenarios #jihoon scenarios #wonwoo fluff #seokmin fluff #mingyu fluff #minghao scenarios #seungkwan scenarios #soonyoung fluff #chan fluff #hansol reactions

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suckerforcate · 1 year

Text

A little too much Alcohol Pt.2

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Word Count: 746

Warning: none

A/n: Part 1, this might be shit, sorry. I wrote half of it at the airport and the other half in a Pub. Also I'm so sorry for the lack of fanfics atm, I have so much to do!😭

Waking up, you immediately felt like someone was trying to drill through your head. Thankful for the glass of water at your side, you gulped it down in one. The sunlight that fell through your window made your head sting, and you hastily pulled the curtains close.

Today wouldn't be too active. You just wished to stay in bed and sleep through your immense hangover. No matter how hard you tried, the memory of the last evening didn't seem to come. Instead, your headache just seemed to get worse, so you gave up and crawled back into bed.

You had nearly drifted back to sleep as you heard someone open the door. The steps were light and yet firm. You immediately recognised them as Brienne's. Feeling safe with her, you stayed in your current position. Back turned towards her, nuzzled into the sheets. You felt the bed dip down a little as she sat down and soon a warm, soft hand stroked your shoulder. She lightly pulled at your shoulder, as to make you turn to face her. You obeyed.

Brienne smiled at you warmly, leaning down a bit to place a soft kiss on your lips.

"Morning, little Chatterbox." You hid your face under the covers, embarrassed. You had already assumed, that you had talked a lot. Probably a lot of embarrassing and stupid stuff. You always did when you were drunk. Which didn't often happen, which explains why you had never been this drunk. So you imagined it must have been horrible. Like someone vomiting words.

"What did I say?" You mumbled through the fabric, peaking over it with one eye.

"It's nothing- just..." you could see Brienne was searching for words, that didn't happen often. And she was lying, which also didn't happen often. What on earth had you done?

"Brienne, I know you're lying. Spit it out." You sat up straight, looking at her seriously. Why was she so strange about this matter? You could imagine having said anything hurtful. Because: drunken words are sober thoughts. And you had never, ever had one bad thought about Brienne.

Brienne saw the panic in your eyes, and however hard it was for her to understand why. She knew you never wanted to hurt her.

"It wasn't anything bad, don't worry. It's just-" She sighed, looking down a little embarrassed herself.

"You said that I was really tall. And then- you didn't realise you were talking to me- then I thought you would say something insulting, but... You said it was hot." She nearly whispered the last part, and you had to lean in a little to understand her. Taken aback, you lean against the headboard. Staring at her, you tried really hard to keep your laugh in, and failed miserably. A deep, throaty laugh escaped you as your head fell against the wall.

Brienne was too stunned to speak, her eyebrows furrowed a bit. You quickly grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, Brienne. But that's not what I expected, I thought I had insulted you or- I don't know. That's just the blant truth." Her eyes shot up, looking at you surprised.

"Oh, don't look so confused. I thought you knew. I love it when you tower over me, it's so hot, and it makes my knees go weak. Honestly, you can't be so oblivious." Brienne shyly looked at you. The revelation hit you like a truck. Right in the face. She was. She absolutely was that oblivious.

Leaning forward a little, you tilted her chin up. You cupped her cheek and pulled her closer to you. Her lips on yours erupted butterflies in your stomach. It was one of those kisses that could make you nervous and shy, even if you had been married for twenty years.

Slightly pulling back, you leaned your forehead against hers. Her eyes were shut, her breathing was ragged. You knew she was on the verge of tears.

"Brienne, my beautiful girl. I always thought you knew how mesmerised I am by you. I don't just think you're beautiful, you make my heart skip, my breath hitch. I never want you to second guess how much I love you and how stunning I think you are. Understand?" A single tear escaped and ran down Brienne's cheek. You gently brushed it away, and placed your lips on hers.

"And now, lay down and keep quiet. I have the headache of a century." Brienne lightly chuckled and obliged.

Tag List: @thoroughly--confused, @danveration

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #wlw #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #got #game of thrones

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eletricheart · 1 year

Text

The Great War

*image creds to the owner

Word count: 1.371

"that was the night I nearly lost you"

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

Miranda wasn't the most open person, sometimes you didn't even know if she actually enjoyed your presence, but since you were never kicked out, you stayed. You weren't stupid, you knew of her experiments, you've seen the results in the woods, criminals she would say. You'd ask about the lords, "I did everything I could, I saved their lives".

You believed in her for a while, you understood and trusted her.

However, she never told you the extent of her trials, never told you the age of some subjects, never told you she doesn't feel remorse for all she's doing.

A lie won't go too far, she expected you to stay in the haze, blindly trust her, but Miranda was careless.

All of her experiments were failing, soldiers kept knocking on her door, Alcina's and Heisenberg's endless fighting. She was stressed, she forgot to lock the door, forgot to sedate the child.

When you first heard the screams, panic took control. You raced down the stairs to find Miranda covered in a little girl's blood. The urge to vomit was immense but the initial shock kept you completely frozen.

Miranda knew she messed up, she knew you wouldn't approve this, but her daughter was more important than anything in this world. So why did she care? Why was she worried about how you would react? It took you a month to properly look at her after finding the laboratory, how long would it take now.

Miranda watched as your mind worked relentlessly, trying to make as little movement as possible to not scare you off. Until all you could ask was why.

Miranda scoffed at this question, it was as obvious as the existence of the sun.

"Children have a more similar anatomy to my Eva, obviously".

You were perplexed, stuck between anger and sadness, not being able to formulate any long sentences with the way your mind kept going up and down. "But she's just a kid".

Miranda wanted to laugh at this, but instead she just furrowed her eyebrows and smiled. "My Eva was just a kid, besides it's not like this one was useful, didn't even pass the incision, no need to be worried".

So it clicked, Heisenberg's fury towards Miranda, Donna not leaving the house, Moreau disfigured and the Dimitrescu trapped inside a castle.

You want to be mad at her, for all of the suffering she has caused. But you were just upset with the lying, if she just talked to you.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh please, you were dramatic knowing about those creatures, with this you would be an even greater nuisance".

"Miranda this was a child! Not a criminal or someone close to dying, it's a kid. This is completely wrong. Oh my God what have I done, I can't believe this, I've been going against everything I've ever believed during these past few months for your to lie to me. I've been trusting you, trying so hard to understand you, to give reason to your actions, to have an excuse for all you've done and this is what I find".

"I never asked for you to do any of this, you chose to stay, you chose to accept my mission, my holy mission. I was blessed by the Black God and now you come to me thinking I have time for your petty complaints. You're nothing more than means to an end, don't blame me for your pathetic love expectations. I will do anything for my daughter, these subjects are serving a purpose greater than you could ever understand".

"Miranda, listen to yourself, this is insane, you're acting completely crazy".

So she slapped you.

𓄿

You would think that after living with someone for months, you would know the person. Neither of you knew each other, not even superficially, you just stayed close. Maybe it was fear of the other not liking the real personalities, maybe none of you wanted to meet the other.

Miranda saw you as a hypocrite, someone who acts like an activist but turns a blind eye to her cruelty.

You saw Miranda as a grieving mother, willing to give her life to Eva, someone who has done many bad things but still has good inside.

In reality, both were right in a way. You were a hypocrite but you still cried everyday for her experiments, you still helped the village with their basic needs, you still tried. Miranda was indeed grieving, but the pain was larger than you could possibly imagine. At a certain point she did go mad, she didn't care for the person laying on the table or dying in the cages, all she could see was the main goal, bringing her daughter back.

𓄿

You left after she slapped you, no one followed. You left the village, no lycan crossed your way and no crow watched you.

You went back to your city, tried to live a normal life, tried to forget the priestess. You really tried, but everything you did a memory would go through your mind, it could be something as simple as watching the sky and remember the day where you dragged her out of the cabin to see a rabbit shaped cloud.

You missed her and felt guilty for it, so you didn't come back, at least not for the next six months.

Miranda went back to work, crueler than before. The crops started to die, the lycans became more erratic, the crows were more aggressive.

Even the Lords noticed the changes, Moreau's reservoir was starting to lack fish, a sudden coldness reached the castle leaving it's inhabitants trapped inside without enough food, Heisenberg was having more troubles with the lycans and an absurd amount of new corpses.

Donna was the only one who didn't feel such a difference, except for a certain sadness in the air, one that wasn't her own.

They all tried to speak with the Goddess but she was unreachable, either spending weeks performing experiments or laying in bed for days.

It was the darkest six months the village had faced in many decades.

That was the state of the village when you returned, the common people tried to drive you away, to spare you from the land's cruelty, but you kept going, simply following the crows. Finding her at the lake, five minutes from the center of the village. There she was in all glory, waiting for you.

Miranda saw your return, she noticed how you looked skinnier, more tired, as if the world didn't treat you right.

The priestess wanted to kill you on the spot, no one insults her and leaves alive. And then you smiled at one of her devotees, your dimples faintly showing. So she forgot to kill you, forgot even the reason why she was supposed to hate you.

All Miranda felt was relief, a strange feeling of hope that maybe you forgave her. How comical, a Goddess wanting forgiveness from you...it was something she truly wanted.

Neither of you knew what to say, both still remembered the last conversation.

You could feel your hands shaking, your fast beating heart and your happiness to see her.

"I'm sorry."

Miranda released a breath she didn't even notice holding, and gave you a small smile.

"I'm sorry too."

Suddenly, the crops grew healthier, the sun shines brighter, more fishes started to live in the waters, the lycans became completely manageable.

Both of you agreed to talk more, she promised to try not to experiment on the innocent and you promised to never leave again.

Everyone noticed that both changes happened with your exit and return, some villagers even started worshiping you. The Lords were apprehensive, Salvatore wanted to impress you, Karl planned your murder, Alcina probably wished to eat you and Donna was quietly curious.

Everytime you fought the Lords would know, Miranda would be more demanding than usual, and the fact that you went to Donna's after her fight made her even angrier.

So yes, things turned out to the better, vows of never going back to that bloodshed were made.

However, this time when you fought, you would always receive a letter from Alcina and Karl, begging to forgive Miranda.

"I vowed I would always be yours."

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

masterlist

#Spotify #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 #re8 mother miranda #re8 incorrect quotes #resident evil fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #resident evil fandom #non canon #angst #i'm so mentally ill

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

Text

The Ward Pt. 2 | Jonathan Breech x fem!character

Summary: Jonathan Breech is sentenced to three months in a Dublin psych ward after trying to take his life. He meets a girl and thinks he's fallen in love... but is this just a product of opportunity and loneliness or could it be more?

Warnings: Based heavily on One the Edge (2001) so there is already a lot of mental-health specific discussions. More specifically- mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, depression, anxiety, feeling helpless and alone, medication, vomiting, pregnancy. There is nothing explicitly sexual in pt. 2, just kissing, so there are no warnings for that here. Please don't read if you think any of the previously mentioned topics could be triggering! Some of this is taken from my personal experience with mental-health issues so read with care.

word count: 4019k

Leif Erikson- Interpol 🎶

Sad girl- Lana del Rey 🎵

Note- One the Edge is free on Internet Archive...

Please read the warnings before continuing, thanks!

He stumbled back to his room, wiping sweat from the back of his neck beneath his normal clothes. He laughed silently as he watched Toby sneak back into his own room before he opened his door. His room was dark and he slipped inside, trying hard not to make any sound as he shut the door slowly. He was only a little tipsy and the run back to the hospital from the bar cleared his head. He’d already caused trouble and forced himself and Toby into a predicament with three large men that involved running all over Dublin for an hour until they could make it back to the hospital. Jonathan’s life was anything but boring to say the least. As he closed the door and turned to take off his jacket the sight of someone sitting on his bed nearly made him lose his balance and fall. He caught himself on the doorframe and clutched his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he panted. Margaret, having been sitting against the wall on his bed, rolled over.

“Sorry, sorry! I came in here earlier looking for you and you weren’t here.”

“So you sat here in the dark for God knows how long?” He laughed painfully and slapped a hand across his forehead.

“It makes me sound perverted when you say it like that,” she got off the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. She silently gave thanks that the room was dark and he couldn’t see the rush of heat to her face from pure mortification. “I just thought you’d be happy to see me. I shouldn’t have assumed…” She avoided his eyes that shone even in the darkness. She tried to step around him to the door but he stopped her, gently putting his hands around her shoulders. His hands were cold and clammy from the run.

“No, I do want you here… even if you are perverted,” he smiled and she relaxed a little under his hands.

“Where were you?” She asked him as he took off his jacket and stuffed it in a bag beneath the bed.

“I snuck out with Toby and we went to a bar.” He sat on the bed with a sigh and leaned his back against the cool wall. He patted the space beside him at the foot of the mattress and she joined him hesitantly. She sat beside him but left some space, still too nervous to get too close to this boy that she really didn’t know.

“Did you have fun?” She smiled and noticed the way he was still catching his breath from running.

“Oh yeah. Toby and I got into this brawl and I got a few good punches in before Toby pulled me away and we made a run for it.”

“Are you lying?” She leaned her head against the wall and turned it to the side to look at him. He smiled cheekily at her and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but for the sake of the story, pretend I’m not.” He whispered.

“Ok,” she nodded, “but how did you get out?”

“Toby found this ladder a while ago and so he puts it against the wall and climbs over it. There were some trash cans on the other side so we just jumped off of them and onto the street. The bar was just a few streets over.” He talked with his hands and she caught herself biting her lip as she watched him. “We’ll all go next time but Toby and I will have to wear disguises because they may recognize us, you’ll be fine.”

She laughed and covered her mouth so that she wouldn’t be heard down the corridor. Jonathan watched her, interested. The way she laughed when her hand wasn’t there showed the wound on her lip. The scab had basically healed but there was still a deep bruise and the skin around the scab was still slightly swollen. When Margaret stopped laughing he put his thumb gently against the scab and pulled away.

“How did you get that?” He asked her, his eyes on her lips. She trembled slightly from his touch, her lips still warm where his thumb was. She shrugged.

“I fell,” she whispered.

“You fell?” He raised an eyebrow that she could still see even in the dark. He was close and she could smell the heat leaking from his skin like pheromones. She laughed lightly and nodded.

“I know it sounds like one of those lame excuses but I fell and busted my lip.” She waved at her lip and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t ask for further explanation.

“It sounds like there’s a lot more to that story.” He prodded softly and she looked at him, her eyes sad.

“Well, there’s a reason why each of us are here.” She said softly and watched as he started to understand. “What’s yours?” She asked and he exhaled deeply.

“I tried to kill myself,” Jonathan answered, his lips pursed.

“I did too. That’s why we’re all in-patient.” She nodded and looked at the opposite wall. He watched her, following the outline of her nose with his eyes. He imagined reaching out to her and pulling her into his chest, not having to speak but just holding one another.

“I drove a car off of a cliff,” he finally said and she turned quickly, looking between his eyes.

“Are you lying?” She asked seriously and he shook his head.

“No.”

“And you lived.” She looked down at his body and then back up to his pale face.

“I was wearing a fucking seatbelt,” he pulled at the skin on his face and sighed, “I didn’t break anything except for my pinky finger. The judge gave me four months in here for trying and failing to kill myself. I can’t tell whether he was punishing me for trying or failing to kill myself,” he shrugged, “but it was also someone else’s car so maybe that was it.”

“You stole someone’s car?” She nearly laughed in disbelief and had to clamp a hand across her mouth.

“Technically it was already stolen, I stole it from the people who stole it in the first place.” He smiled and folded his arms over his chest.

“You must be lying,” she gasped and he shook his head, smiling.

“No, that’s all completely true.”

“Jesus…” She fell back against the wall and sighed. Jonathan looked over at her before changing the conversation back to her.

“So how did you do it?” He asked her gently. She paused and glanced over at him before looking down at her hands. She played with the thick hem of her jumper and sighed.

“I took all of my medications one night before bed and passed out but before I could die, my body woke itself up and forced me to throw up all of the partially-digested medications that I had swallowed. I don’t remember any of it but my roommate found me on the bathroom floor, face down on the tile. I busted my lip really bad in the fall and I got some bruises and stuff. They think that my body instinctively went into the bathroom where I threw up everything in my stomach and when I stood back up, I lost consciousness and fell face first onto the bathroom floor. I woke up again in the hospital where they had pumped my stomach and tied me down to the bed. Someone from psych talked to me and told me that I was being transferred to the psych ward where they would determine the next best course of treatment. They insisted that I stay here and the college agreed but they never told me for how long. They’ve taken me off my medications for a while so my body can detox I guess. ”

“Does your family know?” He asked and she looked up at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes.

“Yeah… yeah they do. They thought that I was just doing it for attention. They always call me dramatic and shit but they don’t understand that I had no intention to wake up after I took the pills. I didn’t want the attention, I just wanted to die.” She kept her voice even while tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and sniffed. Jonathan said nothing for a while.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be alive,” he looked at her and she smiled sadly. “Come here,” he opened his arms and pulled Margaret into them. She kept her hands by her face but she allowed him to swallow her up in his arms which were warm and comforting. She laid against his chest and he smoothed her hair back. Without communicating, they separated and laid down, facing each other on the pillow. She curled her hands beneath her cheek and looked into Jonathan’s eyes. He put one hand on her cheek and wiped away the last of the tears from her face.

“What about you? Does your family know that you’re here?” She whispered.

“My mom and da are dead but my brother knows. He’s ok, you know? The silly bastard gives a fuck about me when no one else does, so you have to give it to him. He cares.” He smiled.

“I care about you,” Margaret whispered honestly and he smiled, “I think.” She added, smiling and he moved his hands beneath his face.

“You think? Wow, I’m truly honored.” He teased her and she laughed quietly into the pillow. He licked his lips but broke his eyes away from her’s, not wanting to escalate things. “You know when Dr. Figure asked us about our fears?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“What are yours?”

“Well I’m scared of all the normal things like being alone, being forgotten, the dark…”

“You’re scared of the dark still?”

“Yeah, it's horrible here because it’s so dark. Dr. Figure got me a nightlight to use when my anxiety gets bad. My brain tricks me into thinking that there are things in my room sometimes, especially when I’m upset about something else or stressed.”

“And what else?”

“I have a phobia of being pregnant and giving birth for some reason, those are the really weird ones. I have nightmares that I’m pregnant and it’s horrible,” she mimed having a swollen belly and he laughed.

“What about you?” She asked him and he thought for a moment, humming softly.

“Besides my overwhelming fear of being pregnant,” he joked and Margaret hit his chest playfully, “I’m scared that I’ll never get better,” Jonathan looked up at Margaret. She looked down at his chest, understanding what he meant and nodding. “...and I’m scared that people like Dr. Figure will give up on me,” he whispered. Margaret flicked her eyes back up to Jonathan’s face and said nothing.

“I’m scared that one day, if they manage to heal me completely, I won’t be able to feel some of these feelings, the ones that are powerfully sad but make me feel alive- human,” she whispered finally and he watched her as she brushed her hair behind her ear.

“I’m scared of telling people the truth about how I feel,” Jonathan responded and Margaret smiled sadly.

“So do I.”

They smiled sadly at each other and listened to the ticking of the analog clock on the wall. Finally, Margaret shifted closer and raised herself up on her elbows, her hair creating curtains around them.

“Can I kiss you?” She whispered slowly, her face was hot and she stuttered slightly as she asked. Jonathan smiled and kissed her first. She was nervous and inexperienced so she struggled to follow Jonathan’s rhythm but he made no show of disappointment. Margaret put one hand against Jonathan’s face and opened her mouth as Jonathan started to suck her tongue. She pulled away and blushed further.

“Are you ok?” Jonathan furrowed his brow.

“Yeah, I just… I haven’t really kissed anyone like this before. I don’t know what to do.” She looked down, embarrassed and Jonathan chuckled sweetly.

“It’s ok, you can take the lead. I’ll kiss you back how you kiss me,” he explained slowly and she nodded. She kissed him first this time and placed short kisses against his wide lips. Then she locked her lips against his and allowed herself to kiss him for longer, pulling her lips away only to shift them and kiss him again. He followed her lead and kissed her in the same way which was strictly innocent and naive but it still excited him. She licked his top lip and put her thumbs against his chin, sucking gently on his top lip. Jonathan pulled away for a moment and touched her bottom lip gently.

“Does your lip hurt?”

“No,” she whispered back and he leaned forward again to kiss her. Finally she began to grow more comfortable and tried to french kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. They kissed deeper and she breathed breathlessly against him as he pulled her close to his chest. She broke away and kissed down his neck, pulling aside his collar so that she could kiss his shoulder. He sighed against her ear and twirled a piece of her hair between his fingers. When she finally broke away she rested her head on the pillow again and shifted closer to Jonathan. She left her hand on the bed between them and Jonathan took it. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand and traced the small veins.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Margaret whispered and Jonathan looked up at her, smirking.

“Yeah,” he nodded and shifted his head on the pillow, their faces close together. Margaret’s eyes fluttered softly as she started to fall asleep and he watched her, running his thumb against her hand as she slept.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. She’d left his room but not before she kissed his hairline, to go back to the women’s ward before a nurse noticed that she was gone. She hugged herself as she wandered back to her room, smiling and forgetting to breathe. She crawled beneath her own covers and tried to fall back asleep as the sun started to rise through the window.

…

“I have a pledge that I’d like you to consider, Jonathan,” Dr. Figure slid a piece of paper across the table to Jonathan.

“You’re calling it a fucking pledge?” Jonathan scoffed and laughed.

“Everyone else in group therapy has already signed the pledge agreement. It basically says that you will go the next month without hurting yourself in any way, cutting, burning, inflicting pain on purpose…” Dr. Figure explained and Jonathan rubbed his hand over his lips, “A month from now is roughly New Year’s Day, so if you make it till then, you could leave without having to finish your entire sentence.”

“Do I have a choice?” He shifted against the door jam, refusing to actually sit at Dr. Figure’s desk.

“Of course you do,” Dr. Figure sighed, “but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“Mhm, ok. I’ll sign your fucking pledge,” Jonathan walked up to the desk and took a pen from the pen holder. He signed his name across the dotted line and put the pen back. “Now what happens if I break the pledge? Do you kill me before I can kill myself?”

“You have to stay the full time and maybe more, depending on how you break the pledge.”

Jonathan nodded and cocked his head to the side, “pretty solid stuff, doc. Good work.”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Dr. Figure answered with a tired sigh.

“Why do you still work here? You sound exhausted all the time. Obviously you hate working here with kids like us, why do you do it?” Jonathan crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at Dr. Figure.

“I do it because believe it or not, I care. This is what I was made to do. You may think that I’m exhausted and fed up with you and everyone else but I’m not. I’m not so easily breakable or deterred. You can give me as much of a hard time as you want, Jonathan, but I will help you. In the end, you’re just going to have to let me.” Dr. Figure propped his elbows up on his desk and clasped his hands together. They sat in a heavy silence until Jonathan sniffed.

“Can I go now?”

“Sure,” Dr. Figure waved him out and put Jonathan’s pledge into a folder and tucked it away into his desk drawer. Jonathan spun around and left the room, swinging his arms comically as he left the house.

As he walked back to the main hospital building he passed the bench and sitting there were Margaret and Toby, talking. Toby had a walkman in his hand and was showing it to Margaret who smiled. Her finger held a place in her book which was in the middle. Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets, and approached them, his footsteps crunching on the brittle grass.

“Heya guys,” Jonathan shrugged his shoulders in greeting. Toby greeted him back and Margaret blushed, just meeting his eyes with a smile but not saying anything back.

“Did he make you sign that pledge?” Toby asked and Jonathan laughed.

“Yep, no violence until New Year’s Day, then we can go all out.” Jonathan joked and perched on the armrest of the bench beside Margaret. “Did you both sign it?”

“Yeah,” Toby nodded with a shake of his head, “how they’re going to manage it I don’t know.”

“I did too,” Margaret offered softly and looked at Toby as he continued to talk. She looked brighter today, Jonathan noticed. Her eyes were softer and the bags beneath them had recovered. She was wearing her nightgown again with the same dark green jumper and brown socks. She had goosebumps up her round thighs and Jonathan resisted the urge to trail his hands up the flesh there.

“As long as we don’t try to kill ourselves until New Year’s…” Toby shrugged, “it just can’t be something that they’d notice I guess. They haven’t checked me for signs of harm,” Toby continued and Margaret nodded.

“I think Dr. Figure trusts us to tell him when we break the pledge. He wants us to develop a sense of trust for him where we would feel comfortable telling him,” Margaret offered and the boys nodded.

“What happens if we wait until New Year’s Day and then just kill ourselves?” Jonathan joked darkly and Toby laughed.

“I don’t think Dr. Figure has thought that far ahead,” Toby shrugged and Margaret pulled down the hem of her nightgown and shivered.

“Are you cold?” Toby asked and Margaret shrugged.

“Not especially, it's not as cold today as it was yesterday. The sun’s out.” She looked up at the sky where the sun was not obscured by clouds. Her face looked golden in the light.

“I’m going to go inside now,” Toby rubbed his hands together and stood, “I’ve done my outside time. I’ll be in the rec room watching the MASH reruns.” He walked away and the cords of his robe wavered behind him in the wind. Jonathan sat down beside Margaret and watched her. She finally turned toward him and blushed again.

“Am I allowed to say that you look beautiful?” Jonathan cocked his head and Margaret laughed. She turned back to him and smiled.

“Sure,” she nodded and Jonathan stuffed his hands beneath his armpits to warm them.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her.

“Thank you. I think you’re pretty.” She said softly and Jonathan laughed loudly, surprised.

“You think I'm pretty?”

“Yeah, I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” She blushed.

“I can’t tell whether that’s a blow to my masculinity or a compliment.”

“Only men can be pretty and the best ones are always pretty, not “hot,” I don’t like that word. I think the word “pretty” matches you well. I think you’re pretty.” She explained and Jonathan nodded, pretending to think it over.

“Ok, then I accept it.” They were quiet for a moment before Jonathan started again, “Did you and Toby…” he started and his voice fell always suggestively. She swallowed and shook her head.

“No, I mean I thought he liked me when we both first got here but… I think Toby’s gay.” She answered him honestly and Jonathan nodded.

“But you liked him at first too?”

“Maybe a little,” she glanced at him and smiled, “but he was convenient to like and I had just tried to kill myself. I wanted to feel something… like you.” She pointed out the similarities and Jonathan looked out at the hedges. “You like me because I’m convenient. I’m not very pretty or special, in fact, you were the first person I’ve ever kissed. There are plenty of more attractive girls out there. You picked me because I’m here.”

Jonathan looked at her, his brows furrowed. He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.

“I don’t blame you. It’s why I liked Toby in the beginning but I realized after a while that I didn’t like him in that way, I just thought I did because he was nice to me and happened to be in the same situation. I’m not saying that it isn’t nice to find someone and seek comfort from them while we’re stuck in this fucking place; and I don’t regret last night at all. I just don’t want you to realize in a few weeks that you don’t like me at all and I realize that I like you too much,” she looked at him and her hair shifted over her shoulders. She stood and walked away, leaving him alone on the bench. Jonathan leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees and put his face into his hands. He massaged his eye sockets as he thought about what she had said.

He spent the day thinking and wandering around the hospital. He sat in the rec room that night and watched Singing in the Rain on the small box tv that was covered in plexiglass. An older woman who sat beside him took his hand and he took the hand of the older man on his other side. Jonathan imagined that they were his parents and they were watching a movie on some weekend night, spending time together like when he was a little kid. As he watched the movie, he decided that he was going to follow the pledge and that one day, he was going to get better, because Margaret was right. In here, she was convenient, but out there, he could be with her because he truly wanted to be with her.

That night he sat on his bed and took off his shirt, looking at the expanse of flesh. He’d snuck a razor blade into the hospital and hidden it in his carton of cigarettes. He retrieved it from the carton and stared at it, not moving to apply it gently to his skin. The blade reflected the moonlight shining in through the window and he twirled it between his fingers. He was good at hiding his depression, shoving it down into his stomach and covering it with fluffy feelings and jokes but at night when he was alone, they came up again like an unmade bed. He wanted the release that the blade offered when he desperately needed it but he closed his eyes and threw the blade across the floor where it hit the opposite wall. He wiped his nose on his wrist and looked out the window, hiding his tears. He hugged his waist with his other arm and stayed like that, watching the window and thinking about the well of pain he couldn’t quite name or target. His pain was all over, not connected to one source, which made it all worse. Finally he curled up in a ball and fell asleep, cold but wanting to feel the discomfort that overpowered his depressive pain.

...

end of pt. 2 :)

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian fluff #cillian x reader #young cillian murphy #young!cillian x reader #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan breech #on the edge 2001 #cillian fanfic #fanfiction #multi chap fic #imagine

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howdoyoudothedew · 16 days

Text

Rated: T

Pairing: Guy Hamdon/Ben Tennyson

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: Written for @hanahaki4hanami and while it doesn't have vomiting one scene is definitely inspired by it

Flowers. It’s a little hard to tell with the way they glow, colours flashing between a scarlet red and aqua, and the feel of the petals between his fingers, somewhere between silk and a soft wood. But the smell, once you get past the bile and blood, and the shape of the petals makes it clear they’re flowers.

“Kelly, why am I spitting these up?” Guy asks from his seat on the table, kicking his legs absently. Kelly looks up from the Shemanual with something akin to worry in her eyes, her face pale. It doesn’t make him feel great. There are a lot of good things with being Shezow, but he’s found a lot of rough consequences too. He still remembers his brief attempt at a “dark and gritty” phase.

“Are you…” Kelly looks back down at the book, biting her lip. “In love?”

“In love?” Guy scoffs, laughing in disbelief. He hasn’t been in love in– ever, he thinks.

“Are you… sure?” Kelly asks, looking up at him and the stack of petals next to him again with a frown.

“... what does the book say?” Guy asks, feeling suspicious now. Kelly licks her lips, tasting the grape of her chapstick.

“It says when a Zow becomes trapped in unspoken love they start coughing up flowers. Till they confess or till it… kills them,” Kelly looks down. “The shemanual calls it hanahaki.”

“Oh,” Guy says. He stares at the petals next to him, watching them rotate between their two colours, taking in the shape of the petals. They glitter like sequins, they’re soft like silk behind the flaking red. After a few moments he begins to laugh. “Then I’m fine, because I’m not in love.”

“Guy…” Kelly says sadly.

“I’m not,” Guy repeats, looking at her. She sighs.

“Fine. Can you at least ask one of your alien buddies about them?” Guy opens his mouth, but she’s quick to speak over him. “They’re clearly not terrestrial and I’d like to know more about them, at least. It’d make me feel better.”

Guy sighs. “Alright, next time I see one of them, okay?”

“Thank you,” Kelly says, tone sarcastic but eyes sincere.

“Hey, do you know anything about flowers?” Shezow asks Diamondhead as he’s holding a shield up for them, stopping this stupid laser some smuck left firing.

“Flowers?” Diamondhead asks incredulously, looking back at her. “No, why?”

Shezow shakes her head. “No reason, just found some alien ones and my partner’s curious. I think she wants to see if she can make a cutting and grow more, but she needs to know more about them first and we don’t really know where to start looking.”

“So you ask the first big alien you see?” Diamondhead asks and Shezow shrugs.

“I’ll ask my si- sidekick and see what she says. She knows shit like that better than me,” Diamondhead says. It’s not the first time one of these aliens has nearly slipped on the word ‘sister’, and sometimes Shezow wonders what it means. Have they just not been doing the superhero gig for very long? Was their sister not a secret before? Or do they just trust Shezow enough that a part of them wants to tell her the secret, but the importance of a secret identity won out every time? Shezow’s chest tightens and she coughs, just slightly.

“Thanks, big guy.” Shezow winks. “Now I think it’s time to fight a little laser with laser.”

It wasn’t very hard to realize the ten aliens he fought with as Shezow occasionally were all one person. Maybe it would’ve been if Guy didn’t have his own– albeit much smaller– transformation, but it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together when one guy would run off and then another, different guy would show up several minutes later with the first nowhere in sight. There aren’t many aliens in Megadale. Not ones that look so obvious or fight crime, at least.

He sighs, looking at the petals he coughed up after Diamondhead left and tapping his fingers against the table. The shemanual has never been wrong before, but… Guy scrubs his hands over his face before he can consider the possible smudging of his eyeliner. The worst part is, given the flower, there’s only one possible answer if the shemanual is right and he’s pretty sure Kelly knows it.

“The flowers are supposed to represent the person you love in some way,” she’d said before he left. Guy gathers up the flowers a little rougher than he needs to and throws them in the container with all the rest. Since they don’t know what they are exactly, they haven’t been able to throw them out or even burn them. Just because they’re fine in his body, doesn’t mean they’d be okay when introduced to other conditions. Or so Kelly said. Personally, Guy thinks if they grew inside him they should be perfectly safe even if they’re alien. Maybe they even only look like the alien flowers they represent, but are much closer biologically to something from earth.

But what’s he know? Science is his worst subject.

It’s stupid anyhow, whatever this is. Guy’s never been in love before and he’s not in love now. Especially with some boy he only kinda knows who turns into ten, admittedly really cool, different aliens. If he was, he’d know it.

“Hey! Shezow!” Diamondhead calls, running up to him. Shezow turns and nearly laughs at the dents Diamondhead is leaving in the sidewalk. “I have the info on those flowers you wanted!” He stops in front of him with a wide smile, holding out a pile of pages held together with a paperclip with print Shezow is sure is too neat to be his. Too neat to be Diamondhead’s, at least. One of the other alien forms could’ve written it, or his human form, or one of his partners. The idea the boy behind Diamondhead could’ve taken the time to handwrite multiple pages of information on an alien flower for him makes him flush. He swallows down the swirl of flowers.

“Thanks,” Shezow says, keeping his eyes on the packet as he takes it from him.

“Sure thing!” Diamondhead smiles at him. “Anything for my favourite super-powered sidekick.”

“Sidekick?” Shezow repeats, looking up at him. “Excuse you, you’re the sidekick here.”

Diamondhead snorts, but it’s fond and amused. It’s an old joke between friends, not distaste like he got from those assholes when he was just starting and considered joining a bigger team. He’s still glad he’d decided against it in the end. And glad he tried, if just to force the old heroes too stuck in their ways to see past themselves to actually look at other heroes for a change. Shezow folds the papers to store them in an empty pouch on his utility belt.

Later, he throws up the petals he’d swallowed down.

“This is a dangerous place right now, you know.” Guy jolts at the hissing voice and looks up into XLR8’s visor. He showed up out of nowhere, right as Guy was about to transform. Though it’s not very surprising. It’s more XLR8’s thing than any of the others to show up suddenly, completely silent. She curls her hand into a fist, hiding her ring, despite knowing no one else who’s noticed it has ever connected the dots so the idea of XLR8 being able to is a little silly. But she also knows he’s a good hero. She won’t risk it.

“Is it?” Guy asks, coughing as she nearly uses her Shezow voice on instinct. If XLR8 notices the slight way her voice warbles, she can’t tell.

“Well yeah,” he gestures out of the alley, to where the villain of the week is making a giant mess of the road. Without a doubt, her dad will be complaining about it during dinner. Though he’s started to complain less, between the years of living in Megadale and Shezow starting to do the best she can to keep the damage to a minimum during the fight as well as helping fix things after. “There’s a villain right there, you can’t seriously tell me you missed it.”

Guy shrugs. “There are a lot of villains here. If I hid or whatever everytime one popped up, I’d never get to do anything.” Even with the visor, she feels like she knows the exact expression XLR8 is making. Eyes narrowed, staring at her like he thinks she’s a little off-kilter but unable to say anything because she’s not exactly wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to protect me, anyway?”

XLR8 snorts. It’s a noise he’s made before and it makes Guy just as curious as it has every other time he’s made it. As far as Guy can tell, XLR8 has no nose. How can you snort without a nose? He picks her up, dashing off before one of the androids spots them in their little alleyway. It’s always a little dizzying to travel by someone else’s super speed.

“You’re not gonna fight them?” Guy asks once she’s put down. They’re far away from the action now, though she can still hear it.

“I’m waiting for my partner. She’s later than she usually is,” XLR8 says, looking around.

“Can’t you do it without her?” Guy asks, feeling her heart pound. He has to be talking about her. In all the time they’ve worked together, whenever he talks about the people he works with he calls them his sidekicks, so it has to be her.

“Yeah, but this is her city and it’d feel weird,” XLR8 says. The petals shift in her chest as she breathes.

“That’s nice of you,” Guy says and XLR8 laughs, the sound crackling like tv static before he runs off. Guy watches him go. Once he’s out of sight, she transforms.

“Where were you?” Kelly asks quietly once Shezow is by her side.

“XLR8 caught me before I could transform, so I had to make a detour,” Shezow says, refusing to look at her sister. It didn’t help that she’d had to cough up more petals before she could even transform. The flowers were starting to get annoying, scraping against her insides. Kelly tilts her head and Shezow moves to join XLR8 before Kelly can connect any dots. Before she can see Kelly connect the dots. It wouldn’t be the full picture, anyway. Because if Shezow really is in love with XLR8, then she’s also in love with multiple other boys. And as far as she knows Kelly still thinks all the aliens are different people.

“You’re in love with him,” Kelly says.

No I’m not, Guy wants to say, but “which one do you mean?:” slips out instead. He wants to bash his head into the counter. It’s cruel of her to confront him on this when he hasn’t even had his breakfast.

“I don’t know. All of them?” Kelly shrugs. “I have a theory about them, but I haven’t really been able to confirm it yet.”

“What’s your theory?” Guy asks, hoping to distract her away from whatever her original intent was.

“I think all the aliens might actually be one, shapeshifting alien,” Kelly says quietly, like a conspiracy. Despite the fact they’re in the She-Lair. “We never see them all together, even when multiple of them help you in the same day. And none of them ever stick around despite helping you.”

I wouldn’t say that… Guy thinks, remembering several times he’s hung out with one of them after they’ve saved the city. Playing in the park with Wildmutt or getting a fizzy burp with Four Arms… He doesn’t say anything, though. It’d only give Kelly more fuel.

“So you think they’re all the same person?” Guy asks

“Yeah. But like I said, it’s just a theory.”

“A game theory, thanks for watching,” Guy mumbles around his spoon and Kelly gives him a flat look.

“Can’t you be serious about this, at least?” Kelly asks. “You know, since it’ll kill you eventually.”

“See, the key word there is eventually.” Guy hops up onto the counter. “And if I’m even in love, instead of this being some other weird flower disease.”

“Another weird flower disease,” Kelly says flatly.

“Yeah! I work with aliens constantly, a magic ring’s messed with my dna, who knows what I could’ve caught that a normal human wouldn’t?” Guy says. Kelly sighs. “Maybe it’s not a Shezow thing.”

“But what if it is?” Kelly asks.

“Then I’m fine,” Guy says, hoping off the counter, and taking Kelly’s hands in his. “Because I’m not in love.”

Kelly, like any sister, is lovely, helpful, and a major pain in the ass. She doesn’t drop it, which leads to him being out more. He can’t take it to Maz, because Maz is on Kelly’s side. So he only has one friend to turn to. Or, ten friends.

The sun is bright enough to glitter off Diamondhead in rainbows. It’s something Guy would’ve said looks dumb, back when he was twelve and only just starting out as Shezow. And only just learning about himself. Now, he just thinks it looks cool and kind of pretty, the way the colours paint the sidewalk and grass. “So what’s up, Zow? You don’t usually call.”

He doesn’t. He should, probably, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know where their base is, or when they’re in the area, so he’s never bothered before. “My sister’s being a nuisance,” she says and Diamondhead nods. “I know she doesn’t mean to be, she’s just worried, but I’ve told her she doesn’t have to be. And now she’s dragged my best friend into it, too.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Diamondhead pouts, and Shezow laughs.

“One of them,” she says with a smile. Diamondhead looks at her like he knows she’s not just talking about the friends he has as Guy Hamdon, but he doesn’t say anything. She wonders if he would’ve as Greymatter.

“So you want me to distract you?” Diamondhead asks.

“It’d be nice,” Shezow sighs. Diamondhead mimes cracking his knuckles.

“That I can do,” Diamondhead says with a wide smile, and Shezow smiles back.

Maybe it’s the days he spends hanging out with the different forms his alien friend takes that does him in. But he feels good around the aliens, feels happy and distracted, and he needs the distraction. Wants the distraction with Kelly, Maz, and even Sheila breathing down his neck. So he ignores the tickling of his chest, the painful squeeze of his ribcage, holding in the petals and flowers until he has no choice but to speed away to cough them up. They always look worried when he comes back, despite Shezow making sure to wipe away any spit or blood. To make sure there is no evidence of this disease which isn’t a sign of love, slowly twisting his running thoughts into knots around his lungs and heart.

It’s what kills him, except it doesn’t, because he is Shezow and if it did Kelly would find a way to kill him herself instead.

Four Arms catches him as he stumbles, coughs wracking painfully up his throat, too sudden and powerful for him to hold down. When the heaving starts, the petals and flowers forcing their way up and out, Four Arms scrambles before holding his hair back. It makes him want to smile. Then the stems squeeze more painfully, making him gasp and choke.

“Shezow?” Four Arms asks, worry dripping from his voice. Shezow wants to reassure him, wants to tell him she’s fine, but the flowers are more insistent. They don’t want to stop. She coughs until her lungs are on fire, until her throat feels like she ate seven bags of super-spicy nachos. And then she coughs past it. Flowers and blood and spit lay on the ground in front of Shezow, blurred by tears. Then it’s done. Shezow sits there for several long minutes, breathing slow through a burning throat, until she registers Four Arms with one hand still holding back her hair and another rubbing her back as he makes soft sounds, like he’s done this before.

It is quite possibly the stupidest moment to have the sudden realization that Kelly might just be right.

She scrubs her arm across her eyes, the cloth of the gloves brushing away the tears.

“Are those the flowers you asked Diamondhead about two months ago?” Four Arms asks, looking over her shoulder. Shezow swallows once, twice, feeling the burn of acid in her throat.

“Yeah.” Her voice croaks. She doesn’t risk clearing her throat.

“Why’d you spit them up?” He asks.

“It’s a Shezow thing,” Shezow answers, doing her best to smile. Four Arms raises an eyebrow.

“Are you dying?” Four Arms asks quietly. Shezow wants to say no. Thinks she should say maybe, since it’s closer to the truth, and ends up saying “Naybe” instead. It makes Four Arms snort, at least. The petals in her chest flutter at the sound. She clears her throat on instinct. Regrets it immediately.

“I should head out.” She stands up, feeling rocky in a way she hasn’t since she traded in her high heels for hightops.

“Wait!” Four Arms quickly moves to standing as well, holding out all four of his hands. He gestures to himself with two of them. “Maybe I should take you back or something.”

“Thanks, but I’m a big girl. I can make it back to my lair on my own, I promise,” Shezow says.

She leaves behind the flowers, too busy running to think about them. Even if she wasn’t, she’s not sure she wouldn’t have left them there anyway despite what Kelly would say, leaving them behind like evidence of guilt.

“I’m in love with all of them,” Guy admits to Kelly once he’s back in the She-lair, catching her and Sheila off guard and interrupting their conversation. Kelly stares at him for several seconds before jumping to her feet.

“Guy! You look-” Kelly breaks off, mouth open, just staring more.

“Like she-it?” Guy says, laughing bitterly.

“I think I just coughed up about three entire bouquets. You know, maybe I should get into the flower arranging business.”

“Guy.” Kelly’s using her serious tone and Guy’s shoulders droop.

“Can we not do this right now? I’m feeling pretty tired actually,” Guy says. It doesn’t take much work for him to sound pathetic. He feels pathetic. He feels like he just got run over by a steam engine. Kelly frowns.

“What happened?” She asks, tone gentled, and Guy isn’t sure if it’s better or worse. Guy shrugs, because he doesn’t want to admit she’s right when already she knows she is. “How bad was it?”

“Remember that bad I ate? The one you told me not to?” Guy asks. Kelly hisses between her teeth.

“That’s bad.”

“Yeah.” Guy sighs. He doesn’t really know what else to do. Usually Kelly is the one with all the bigger-picture ideas. And the only solution he knows is one he really doesn’t want to do.

It’s also the one he knows Kelly will give.

“You going to tell them?” Kelly asks.

“I don’t want to,” Guy whines, pouting at her. He’d bat his eyelashes, too, but he was still transformed and didn’t want to accidentally activate his wind winkers. There is not much pity to be had when your ‘pity me’ act is interrupted by near-bodily harm. Kelly pats his shoulder.

“Too bad.”

“Kelllyyyyy,” Guy whines. “Don’t make me.”

“Oh, I can’t make you do anything,” Kelly says and pokes him in the chest. “But your body can. Promise me you’ll say something before your stupidity actually does manage to kill you, yeah?”

Guy huffs out a breath, gently knocking her hand away. “Fine. Though just remember, technically you’re giving up any chance to take over being Shezow.”

“An incredible sacrifice on my part,” Kelly says drily.

If Guy is anything, it’s awkward. He wishes he still had the super empathy because at least then he seemed to know what to say, but now he can only rely on his own twisting tongue and pounding heart. The flowers choking up his throat don’t help. She rocks back on the heels of her white sneakers, looking up at Heatblast. “Did Four Arms tell you about me coughing up flowers in front of him?” Heatblast blinks at her. She holds onto the end of her gloves, arms crossed behind her back.

“Yeah.” He says slowly, giving her a searching look. His eyes flicker across her torso and limbs like she may fall apart into petals, right there in front of him. Maybe she will. Neither Kelly or she knows just how a Shezow dies to this, if the petals will choke her until the stems come out her throat like a vase or if they’ll simply expand outwards until she’s nothing but flowers and roots. The thought doesn’t push her like she wishes it did. Who knew it was this hard to just tell someone you kinda-sorta like them? (Maz. Maz probably knew.) “Hey said you might be dying?”

Shezow swallows, adam’s apple bobbing painfully. “I am.”

“Oh.” Heatblast’s fire crackles in the silence between them, and Shezow knows she really should say something, but she doesn’t know how.

“I have a secret?” Shezow says, voice turning up into a question instead of staying steady for a statement and she winces. Heatblast’s head tilts. “I know you’re all one alien. Person?”

Heatblast’s fire splutters. “W-whaaat? No we’re not, have you seen those other guys?”

“Yeah.” Shezow licks her lips, tastes the oddly waxy taste of her lipstick. Quieter, “I have another secret.”

Heatblast’s denials cut off. This time, he looks nervous. “Yeah…?”

“I think I like all of you. Uh. Like-like. The gross mushy kind. Except maybe not the mushy kind? I’ve never really… done this before, so I’m not sure, but definitely the romantic kind,” she rambles, looking at the ground. The sidewalk is cracked; a dandelion is popping through, bright and yellow. When she glances up, Heatblast’s mouth is agape.

“What.” There’s no inflection to his voice, but his flame’s gotten lighter. He’s blushing. Shezow feels her own face heat at the realization.

“Uh- Y-yeah,” Shezow says.

“Wh- what does this have to do with you… dying?” Heatblast asks. Shezow laughs, the sound strangled and high.

“Apparently when a Shezow falls in love, flowers grow in her lungs until she admits it!” She laughs again. It feels hysterical, like helium going to her head.

“Well that’s stupid.” Heatblast frowns. Shezow gives a flat smile and nods.

“She-yeah it is. A surprising amount of rules are bullshit. They really like ‘Zows to be honest with their feelings, or whatever,” Shezow says. Heatblast makes a noise Shezow recognizes as a snort, but sounds more like a flame spluttering.

“You don’t like it?” Heatblast asks with a smile.

“Yeah, sure, I love the feeling of flowers curling into my ribs. Feels great,” Shezow says drily. She takes a breath and finally realizes just how much oxygen fills her lungs. She didn’t even realize she was breathing smaller breaths before now. She takes another breath, just to feel it completely fill her lungs, the taste of flowers still tainting it. Each breath makes the air feel clearer.

“If it helps any, I think I have gross mushy romantic feelings for you, too,” Heatblast says. Shezow smiles.

“It might,” she says and Heatblast laughs. The sound makes her chest flutter— butterflies, not flowers. The relief makes her laugh as well.

#shezow #ben 10 #original ben 10 #ben tennyson #guy hamdon #four arms #heatblast #diamondhead #xlr8 #ben x guy #crossover ships #hanahaki4hanami #hanahaki disease #hanahaki #link writes #hamyson #get zowwy with it #pink gender

12 notes · View notes

writingcold · 7 months

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Hi there. Welcome to Chapter 17. I know last chapter was hard. I can’t say this one is easier either. We have a lot of story though, so let’s get to it.

If you are just joining us, you can find the Master List to the series here

Sending my thanks once more out to @lvnterninthenight, @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake. Love you.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine. Please do not take it for your own personal use. I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story. But it is mine.

Content warning: In an effort of not giving the story away, I will just remind you that it is an 18+ story. There is talk about the violence of last chapter.

Word count: 4400

Chapter Seventeen: Conversations - Cora POV

It had been eighteen days since the attack. Mrs. Potter and Miss Klass smiled as Cora set foot inside the bank for the first time. She hesitated, feeling as if the air itself was attempting to reach out and bruise her even more. Jacob’s hand pressed gently into the small of her back just as the ladies welcomed her warmly, rousing her out of the dark that was trying to pull her in. A quick reassuring glance at him, and they walked through the tainted space. The wounds were going to be long to heal, the bruises were turning into a curative rainbow of ugly shades of upset colors. Joshua met her in the hall, his face tired and brutalized, but the caramel of his eyes shimmered to see her return.

“Good morning, lovely,” he said with an abbreviated smile.

Jacob rubbed her shoulder as she stood in the doorway of her office. She looked down at how Joshua moved close with a feather light touch, brushing the back of his hand to hers. Her frame felt a flush of assurance by the brothers that she had not realized she needed.

“How about lunch, just me and you today?” Josh asked, tucking his hands back behind him. “Mrs. Woods made sandwiches to send along.”

“That would be nice,” Cora replied, feeling the normalcy of the moment.

Jacob followed her into the office, looking very much the way she felt inside – jittery and overalert. Though he tried to exude calm, she could feel his anxiousness under his surface, mirroring her own.

“I don’t feel right leaving you here,” he whispered as he threaded his fingers through hers.

“I’ll be fine,” she sighed as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Joshua needs you in Iron Mountain. It will be well.”

“You could come with,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “We could spend hours in the room I’ve got at the hotel.”

The heat in his tone sent a delicious shiver through her, nearly masking the antsy crawl of her reservation of being alone. “I’m sure Rosemary would approve of that,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.

“What she doesn’t know and all,” he returned as she sat down.

“You’ll be home in a few days?” she asked, rubbing the bandages at her side.

He nodded. “Sooner if I can, Finch.”

Hesitation rolled off Jacob as he left. Cora had to sit a while before being able to shift into the day. The quieter bits made her heart pound, as if her skin was waiting to be assaulted by Archer in an echo of that day. She found that her brain would freeze when the door slammed, or someone laughed too loudly, or when the air felt tight with tobacco. She would look for a reprieve by forcing her eyes on the books before her, but the writing just drifted before her, making no sense in the most mocking manner possible. She was sure that she would worry a hole in her lip before the end of the first day of Jacob being gone.

Josh reappeared with sandwiches and a smile at the noon hour. He closed the door with a soft click as she poured out a couple glasses of water. He caught her chin in his fingers much like how his twin would when she would not meet his gaze. The caramel warmth that she had come to identify as Joshua blazed on her as he looked at her mouth.

“There won’t be much of a lip left if you keep biting it, lovely,” he teased as he brushed his hand across her shoulder. “I’m sure today has been a challenge. I am having trouble keeping my brain on task as well.”

Cora nodded as he touched her hand once more before sitting down next to her. It was a fleeting connection, but one that seemed to ground both of them.

“Cora, if you wish to call it a day, please do,” he said as he unwrapped the waxed paper wrapped delights. “I can call Marcus. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to walk you home.”

“It’s fine, really. Just… When it gets quiet…” her voice wobbled as she spoke, drifting off like she was unable to finish her thought.

Josh nodded his head in agreement. She watched as he took a sip of water, his jaw clenching as he set the glass down. “I am not one to look back on events to lament. However, this one I am afraid I cannot seem to stop seeing. I failed you so badly. For that, I apologize.”

She grimaced as fire stabbed her belly. “Failed me? How?”

“I knew Archer would do something in retaliation, but I underestimated how he would go about it. I certainly never thought that he would ever do it himself. I should have had someone here. Marcus, Henry. They would’ve been stronger.”

She shook her head. “How are you liable for something that was so unpredictable?”

He raised his eyebrows as he took a bite of his sandwich. He remained quiet for a moment. “But, this is where I had an inkling that he would show up here.”

“Not necessarily to do violence.” She leaned forward, her eyes earnest in her feelings. “Besides, from what your face and broken bones tell me, you defended me with everything you’ve got.”

He hummed as he grimaced, straightening his back in pain. “How much do you remember?”

She swallowed a bit of her lunch, unable to hide the blush of her cheeks. This was territory that Jacob would not allow her to tread. In his bid to protect her, he refrained from answering her questions. Likewise, her mother was of the same mind. The hole in her memory was what troubled her, kept her awake as she tried to piece together what her body had survived.

“Cora,” Joshua said, his voice hushed as he again placed a hand over hers. “I will only ever be honest with you. Ask me and I will answer.”

She turned her palm so that she could hold onto him, absorbing his warmth. “I remember him getting us out to the main lobby. I know he touched me…”

“Yes,” he whispered in the void of her sentence.

“After that, I don’t remember anything other than feeling fear and like I wasn’t attached.”

She drew in a breath as they sat in silence. Much like his twin, Joshua held her hand in support, never wavering, never rushing. Her insides trembled in uncertainty. The question burned her throat. She sucked in a breath, refusing to cry over it, refusing to find shame in it.

“Did he rape me?”

“No.”

The simple answer flooded her with emotions that she had no idea how to identify. “Did he try?”

Josh nodded with a tightening of his fingers against her skin. “It was his intention, yes. Every time he thought I was knocked out, he would try. Mrs. Potter and Miss Klass even tried to distract him - they threw everything at him to keep him away from you. If Mrs. Potter could have lifted the register, I believe she would’ve flattened him on the spot.”

“Do you still hurt badly?”

He nodded. “I’ll heal. So will you, Cora.”

“Why won’t Jacob talk about this with me? I mean, it could have been-”

“He’s scared of what he would do to Archer,” he said with a smirk. “My twin does not like to admit that he could be prone to violence. He would rather lean into reputation and play into one’s fear rather than actual violence.”

Cora felt a flutter across her chest at the notion that Jacob was trying to protect himself just as much as he was trying to protect her. “I am afraid he sees me different now.”

He breathed out a soft laugh. “He doesn’t see you differently. Maybe sees himself differently, but not you.”

“How so?”

The laugh returned, lighting the caramel of his eyes and igniting the gold that twinkled. “You, my dear lovely, showed him that he’s scared to death of losing you. So much so, that he panicked when he knew you were in trouble. He learned just how much of a part of him that you have become. What a beautiful thing to see, too.”

She blushed as he squeezed her hand once more before digging back into his lunch. Once finished without reason to stay, he disappeared for moments only. Joshua returned with a few ledgers of his own, setting up on the other side of her desk.

“Perhaps we can help each other by keeping each other company,” he said quietly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Chapter Seventeen: Pt. 2, Jacob POV

Danny was quiet beside him as they walked into the Mountain Lodge. Jacob was sure that the train ride was more than enough to let his friend know that he was not in a good spot - still. Cora was healing. Archer was sitting under constant guard in Sheriff Moore’s jail. Josh’s near silence on anything other than business was perhaps the most crushing of all. He would find distraction when confronted about the attack. The show of kindness towards his girl revealed that a level of camaraderie had been reached between him and Cora. It being etched in stark violence made Jacob uneasy. His heart hurt because of it.

“Jacob!” Beanie called from his perch alongside the bar.

“Love what you’ve done to the place,” Jacob returned, arms stretched out wide, pushing his professional smile and demeanor to his fore. “Real plants - fancy that, Beanie.”

Michael Beauford gave him a huge slap on the back with a hearty laugh. “Nearly doubled the revenues up here, my boy. Nearly doubled!”

Danny stayed back, leaning against the bar as three shots of bourbon were poured out under the owner’s care. Jake glanced at his friend before Beanie’s beefy hand directed him over to the table near his office.

The tables were dressed in linens and the walls were lined with swishes of fabric and art and plants. The tactic was twofold - cutting down the exterior noise and to give an air of atmosphere to the patrons. The bandstand had been rebuilt and clad in dark, lush woods that played off the brightness of the linoleum flooring that was chock full of Art Deco ribbons and fauna. Jake absorbed it all as Beanie was rambling about how the miners ditched the whores and started bringing their wives and sweethearts. Their population inside the Lodge nearly tripled just in the six months since partnering with the Kiszkas.

“Looks really good, Michael. Josh will be more than happy with the news,” he said with a nod before sinking his shot. A grin tugged at his mouth as he set the glass down. “And the liquor isn’t as cut. Nice.”

Beanie laughed with a smack on the table. He had his books out, ready for Jake to look over. He mentioned that the staff seemed more attuned to the upgrades of the place, finding better tips and better wages for themselves as well. His eyes strayed back to Daniel to find that Rochelle had joined him. Her pretty face was warm as she spoke.

“Kitchen,” Jake broke in, eyes back on the books for a moment.

“Working on it,” Beanie remarked, shuffling papers around. “For now, I got a deal with the diner to cater. Once the kitchen is in, then the costs should go down on that end.”

They ran through the product numbers versus the patron; entertainment and pro skirts, and the possibility of adding chorus girls. His attention may have been on the business, but his eyes kept straying to Danny as he laughed with Rochelle. She purposefully kept her face turned away. Lighting a cigarette, he dug in. It was going to be a conversation that he could wait on - the business he needed done.

Three hours. Beanie rambled on for two hours about plans, then spent another hour asking questions about different issues that were plaguing him. He knew he had to stay in the role of invested partner, but he felt his brain screaming at him to leave. He wanted home and hearth and Cora. Danny had retreated to the hotel nearly an hour before.

“Beanie, you’ll have to pardon me, my friend,” he said finally, the spin of the liquor and the emptiness of his stomach dictated that he needed to move. “I need supper and a bed. I better get to the hotel before they give away my room.”

“Back tomorrow?”

Jacob nodded as he stood up, eyes sweeping the room for Rochelle. It would have been rude to not at least say a hello and have a chat. “I’ll be here before noon. I’d like to get home tomorrow evening, if possible.”

They parted with a hand shake. Just as he made his way towards the door, a tap on his shoulder made him stop.

“Hey, papa,” Rochelle cooed in his ear as she slid her hand across his ass to rest on his hip. “You can’t leave here without at least one drink with me.”

He grinned and nodded. She led him to the bar before settling in at a distant table. She tickled under his chin with a fingertip as a way to keep up the act that was expected of her. He lit a smoke and handed it to her before lighting one for himself. “The untouchable became touchable, didn’t she, Jake?” Rochelle asked with a wide smile. “Danny and Molly married, too? What the hell is going around down there in Kingsford?”

“You make it sound like a sickness,” Jake remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“Damn right I do. It’s a fucking plague and it needs to stop,” she laughed as she pressed a hand to his thigh. “Are you happy?”

“Stupid happy.”

She nodded with a crooked smile. “I can see it. You’re fucking glowing.”

“I thought only women did that.”

“Looks good on you, Jacob.”

He laughed as he raised his glass to her. “Things have gotten better around here. You are doing well?”

“As well as I can be,” she said with a nod. “With things finally settling in, I suppose you lot will be heading back south to home.”

It was not a question. Jake knew better than to hope to be leaving Kingsford any time soon, so to voice it may only serve to prolong the matter. His eye drew over Rochelle’s porcelain shoulder to a man standing at the bar. Jake took note of the cut of suit - difficult to get in the region, but it was a fashion that Josh favored from Chicago. The man’s black eyes met his own in a chilled gaze before turning back to the bartender for a refresh.

Rochelle dragged him back to conversation, but he felt guarded without reason. He parted from the lady with a kiss on the cheek and a hug that lingered. She trailed away, and Jake made sure to watch and catch that last over the shoulder glance that made him grin before heading back to the hotel. In years past, he would’ve paid for the evening with her and gotten them both out of the room for a respite. It would never have been a matter of debate. There he stood, watching her as a friend, feeling like he should have provided a morsel instead of turning away.

Dinner was simple and conversation was familiar with Daniel. The night was quiet with thoughts bent squarely on Kingsford and Cora. They would have to have a conversation soon enough regarding the future. He tried not to dwell on logistics, but she would have to be brought into the loop on the dark that lapped at their fringes.

“I’m not sure how much more of Beanie I can handle today, Jake,” Danny remarked over breakfast. “If he’d actually listened to a quarter of what you said in the first place, he wouldn’t have lagged so far behind.”

Jake shrugged. “He’s the last bastion of how it was up here. But he’s gettin’ it. Those double profits will more likely triple before the end of the year if he continues on his plan. That’ll make things much easier to get others to fall in line as things progress. Besides, we get this one into line, it may be the last iron in the fire. He’ll be our poster boy and anyone new will be scrambling to join in on Diamond’s business model.”

Danny set his fork down, eyes trained on the table. “Does that mean we can leave this shit hole?”

“How does Molly feel about that?”

His eyes creased. “Anything to get her to stop having to be a chorus girl makes her happy, Jake. She’s thinking that she wants to open her own tailoring shop wherever we land.”

Jake smiled. “I can see that. Easily. She’d be good at it.”

As they were walking back towards the Lodge, Jake’s eyes strayed, catching sight of the man that he had seen the previous day. In the sunlight, he held an air of familiarity that Jake could not place. Pressing on, he doubled back as they passed a storefront of books and curios and jewelry.

“Going to drop some sugar on your girl?” Danny said, patting him on the arm.

“It’s something she doesn’t really allow me to,” he remarked, looking in the window at a sterling and emerald bracelet. “Let’s get business done and we’ll see.”

Danny took a table close to the door, ordering coffee and sticking his nose into the local paper to close off the talk that dawdled on for four hours. Jake kept his exterior calm and confident, while inside, he was begging to be relieved from the endless banter. He breathed a silent sigh when Beanie finally seemed satisfied with the state of affairs. Toasting a whiskey, Jake was quick to make his apologies for needing to make his return to Kingsford. Just as he was about to leave with Danny, Rochelle caught his eye. She waved at him, but her face was shadowed. It wasn’t but a second of moving towards her that he could see the bruising on her face that she tried to hide with makeup.

“What the fuck happened?” he hissed, his hand reaching for her face.

“Kiss me and follow,” she whispered.

Jake glanced back at Danny and held up a finger. Turning, he brushed his mouth against hers as she laughed. Playfully, she tugged him along until they were out of sight and stepping into a side room. He grabbed hold of her chin and tilted her face towards the light.

“Rochelle - who the hell did this?” he asked, his tone hard.

She pushed herself away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Some bum came in here last night asking all sorts of questions about you and Josh. He got rough when I didn’t answer.”

“What kind of questions?” he asked as he poured water into the basin. “This shit has to come off, Rochelle. May I?”

He started wiping at the thick pancake makeup, grimacing at the tiny cuts that appeared at the edge of her hairline. There was a deep mark, blacker than the bruise that was already formed at the corner of her eye, that loitered into her scalp like the bastard had a heavy ring on.

“Fucker was asking where Josh was, if he was here,” she started, flinching with each swipe of cloth. “He asked if you both fucked me, or if it was just you. If I traveled down to Kingsford and if I knew anything about the Lantern. He wanted to know the steadies of all of you - including Sam and Danny. He wanted to know what fronts you had, how often you come up here to Iron Mountain with distribution.”

Jake forced his fingers across her scalp, finding a deep gash in the thick hair. “Damn. Hold still.”

He cleaned the area up the best he could while she took stuttering breaths against the pain. Jake blew on the cut as she hissed and tried to draw away.

“When I didn’t tell him anything, he first tried dropping cabbage in front of me. When that didn’t work, he went after the puss. When that didn’t work, he tried to bring out the rod, but the girls busted his ass up,” she whispered, her tone thinning out as the words tumbled from her.

He placed a chaste kiss against her forehead before finishing up removing the makeup to reveal the full extent of the damage. Jake set everything to the side before he stepped away from her, arms folded against his chest.

“From the looks of things, you didn’t sing a note,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Not a peep.”

“Did he give you a name?”

“Joe, but I’m sure it was fake,” she said as she reached for the lit cigarette he held out for her. “Looked like his name should be Italian - old world like.”

He cursed. “Next time, just tell him. Don’t let him do this shit. We’re not worth it.”

“Can’t do that, Jake,” she said with a mournful grin. “You’re still the prettiest thing that has ever walked in here.”

He laughed gently as he fished out his wallet. “I want you to take the next few days off. You hear me?”

He dropped a fifty dollar bill on the bed next to her. She shook her head. “Jake, no. You can’t do this.”

“I can.” He smiled at her before she reached out her hand to him. “Are you going to be fine?”

She nodded and focused on how he held her hand. “I’ll be fine.”

He ran his thumb across her knuckles before letting go. “I better go, Rochelle. Daniel’s wanting to get home just as much as I am.”

“Jake?”

He watched as she stood, her eyes casting a shy light as she drew closer. She looked him over, fixing the stray hair that was hanging down against his cheek.

“I want to kiss you. For real,” she whispered. “I feel like this is goodbye.”

His eyes narrowed as he tucked his chin. She smiled sadly as she let out a disappointed breath. Instead, she pressed a kiss to his cheek with a whisper of farwell. His gut sank. Cupping her unmarred cheek, he drew her in, kissing her mouth slow, steady, drawing her lip in between his own, before deepening it to draw her taste in to mix with his own. To her credit, Rochelle kept her hands down and away. His heart stabbed at him to stop, despite the familiarity of the woman. He forced his mind to shut up, while telling his heart he was kissing a dear friend goodbye. But his insides twisted, soaked in the softness he had come to call comfort and healing. She had been his safe harbor in a time where it was most needed. Gently, he pressed the pads of his fingers into her delicate skin before withdrawing. Her eyes fluttered open with a renewed sorrow that seemed to always resided on her fringes that she revealed to no one. It left a rawness in his skin that never seemed to leave, not fully.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “You have been so dear to me and I thank you for that.”

She snorted out a quiet laugh as he reached for the door. “I do hope that you marry this girl, Jacob. She compliments every bit of goodness in you.”

He waved to Beanie as he left. Danny had to rush to catch up. Jake rushed into the curio shop, eyes going right to the books.

“Jake, what’s going on?” Danny asked, breathing hard.

“We’ve got a rat,” Jacob answered, eyes settling in on Wharton’s Age of Innocence. “He roughed up Rochelle pretty bad asking questions about us. We’ve gotta make that train tonight.”

Book paid for, they retrieved their satchels from the hotel and pushed on to the train station. The chill in the air and the snow falling, the men settled into their seats. Jake stared out the window as the train moved forward. If there was going to be trouble from the family drama in Chicago, it was going to be slow to build, but rapid to blood and violence.

His thoughts tangled and jumbled across the entire train ride home. Unlike the unpredictability of Archer, anything coming from Chicago would be measured and planned before being carried out upon the Kiszka’s. In all likelihood, they would be attacked by all sides, probably all at once, only to be sucker punched in the blindspot - and it would be a killer blow. The idea was unsettling. Who the man that roughed up Rochelle was inconsequential, but the fact that they were looking for the company each of them kept chilled him. Jacob was not a praying man. God held little hope for him through his years. In the moment however, he whispered a prayer, asking nothing for himself, but to please shelter his family even if it meant he must sacrifice himself.

I know. I know. Remember, Rochelle had been a healing point for Jake. He’s still A Good Man - Heather and Kleo. Still a good man! It was a kindness he was showing her. It’s okay. And I know last chapter was hard, and this one was a bit rough in its own way. Next chapter is our closing of Act II and moving into Act III. I need to really reiterate, there is going to be a lot of violence in our closing chapters as we see if Joshua and Jacob can lead the family away from their current situation with the ‘family ties’ down south.

I do have a tag list - you can find it here, or just let me know in the comments. Thanks!

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