#this feels like it's been floating around for years
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[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.
chapter masterlist
Words: 3.7k
ao3 link
banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen
warning: canon typical violence || vomit
“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”
You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease.
It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye.
You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt.
But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask?
No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you.
As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.
You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”
She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”
Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?”
You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem.
“How does your tummy hurt?”
She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate.
Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her.
Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can.
You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.
You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS.
It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too.
A lesson for the future.
Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”
She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse.
In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes.
Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing.
“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life.
Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room.
“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there.
Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”
“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”
“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped.
“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”
“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply.
You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte.
But you don’t.
You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.
She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”
“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”
To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”
You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”
She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.
“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid.
“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”
You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.
You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”
----
You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake. The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted. So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers.
There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are.
Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring.
You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”
“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”
Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.
As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?”
Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”
Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”
“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.
Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”
You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”
Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.”
That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”
Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more.
“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.”
“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night.
As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.”
“Okay, okay.”
You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips.
“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response.
“Not icky.”
“How is your tummy?”
Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse.
“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”
You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning.
Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.
So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”
Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way.
Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.
You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it.
It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.
Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.
You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it.
You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all.
You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down.
Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you.
You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile.
Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”
She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck.
You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you.
All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.
You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.
There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.
“Mommy!”
The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you.
You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek.
Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can.
There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.
You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.
You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.
You can’t get up.
You can’t get to Minnie.
You can’t save your daughter.
There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.
You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts.
“DADDY!”
Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter.
“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.
“Mommy!”
The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.
“MOMMY!”
“MOMMY!!”
---
:3C
---
tags:
@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife
@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath
@allllium
@anehkael
@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil
@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore
@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt
@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374
@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare
@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars
@
Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets
@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium
@
two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13
@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday
@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face
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Text
delicate
pairing: modern!Oberyn Martell x f!reader
word count: ~3.9k
summary: You meet a mysterious man at a club. He's just as attracted to you as you are to him.
warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, very soft dom!Oberyn, protected p in v (who am I), dirty talk, fingering, anal play (m receiving), a hint of angst, romance because I can't help myself
a/n: written for @dancingtotuyo’s on repeat drabble challenge, based on the song delicate by taylor swift. this is honestly just feral, i have nothing to say for myself.
dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3
find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!
Lights are flashing, colors dancing over the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders; the bass is pumping, making your whole body feel like it’s vibrating from within. You’re clinging to your friend, your arms intertwined as you navigate your way through the crowd of people to the bar.
You first see him as you’re gulping down your drink, welcoming the cool liquid in your parched throat. Your eyes are observing the crowd, flying over him and then flickering back to take a second glance.
He’s gorgeous, his dark hair a mess, a beard framing his face, his skin shining under the lights. He’s wearing a shirt that flows around his body, threads of gold weaving through the fabric and reflecting the dancing lights. It’s almost entirely undone, giving you a generous look at the expanse of his toned chest, at the sun-kissed skin that you feel a sudden urge to run your fingers over. A massive gold chain with a lock hangs around his neck, an accessory that you’re convinced would look absolutely ridiculous on anyone else. But on him, it somehow only accentuates the strong cords of muscle that ripple under his skin in a way that makes you want to lick your lips.
He moves with a confident ease, his body in tune with the stomping beats, his whole being exuding an almost cocky self-assuredness. You keep drinking him in, fascinated in a way that you can barely understand. You realize that you’ve been staring when your friend follows your line of sight and you hear her quiet gasp beside you.
“Haven’t seen that one around before,” her voice floats into your ear over the music and you shake your head in silent agreement. You’d definitely remember if you did.
You both watch him move with the body of a woman next to him, watch him bend down to whisper something into her ear, watch the way his lips curl into a smug grin as she grinds against him in reaction to his words.
“Too late, I guess,” you laugh, downing the rest of your drink and tearing your eyes away.
The two of you head back into the crowd, swaying your bodies to the beat. You try to get lost in the feeling of it, but your eyes keep searching for him, hungrily grasping at the glimpses of him that you can spot. Eventually, you watch the retreating backs of both of him and the woman head toward the exit, their bodies closely intertwined. Like you said, you try to shrug it off, too late. It’s not a big deal, there’s more than enough other guys around you.
But you don’t go home with any of those guys, none of them able to catch your interest the way he did, and when you lie in bed in the early morning hours, your head pleasantly buzzing with the remaining alcohol in your bloodstream, you still see him behind your eyelids.
A few weeks go by and while you hope to catch him every time that you’re out, there’s no trace of him. It isn’t until your friend’s birthday celebration, a tradition that the two of you have kept up for years, that you see him again.
Again, you’re leaning against the bar, your eyes aimlessly drifting over the dancefloor while you’re sipping on your drink, when you spot him. He’s wearing another colorful shirt, his chest almost entirely on display, and he’s shamelessly grinding against another young man as they’re both moving to the beat. You can’t tear your eyes away, apparently staring so intently that he catches you and throws you a wink across the room.
You feel heat rising in your cheeks and almost turn away, but he’s already on his way, moving towards you with a cat-like grace, effortlessly weaving through the crowd of moving bodies.
“Hey,” he says, leaning into you so close that his breath fans hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your neck. “Saw something you like?”
You grin at him over the rim of your cup, biting your lip and nodding. He mirrors your grin, an almost predatory glint in his eyes. He’s even more gorgeous up close, a light sheen of sweat on his face and his eyes a smoldering brown, his dark hair a mess with strands sticking to his forehead. You take in his toned chest, his broad shoulders and you desperately want to touch your hands to his golden skin. A foreign accent is lacing his words in the most delicious way, only adding to the pull that you feel towards him.
“Let me buy you another drink,” he purrs and you accept, thanking him and offering him your name. You relish in the way you have to lean into him so that he can hear you, greedily soaking in his scent and his body heat that make your mouth water.
His name is Oberyn, you learn, a name that sounds foreign on your tongue and you could swear that a quiet growl rises up his throat when you repeat it back to him.
You’d love to spend your evening dancing with him, pressing your body against his, find out if moving with him feels as good as it looks from the outside. But it’s your friend’s birthday, and you’re gonna stick together, dance the night away with each other and no one else, the way you do every year.
He shrugs it off when you tell him as much, an unbothered grin on his face as he promises you another time then. His hand wraps around your wrist, the warmth of it sinking into your skin as he pulls your arm out towards him, a black marker suddenly in his other hand.
“What are you–” you begin to ask, but your voice dies at the sight of him pulling the cap off with his teeth, something that really shouldn’t affect you this much.
He bends over your arm and it takes your hazy mind a moment to register that he’s writing numbers onto your skin. You’re getting lost in the feeling of his hand on you, even in such an innocent place, and your thoughts are already jumping to fantasies of how it would feel trailing up your arm and over your body.
“There,” his voice floats into your ear and you almost jump. The smug look on his face leaves no doubt that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He leans in close again, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. Your mouth feels dry.
You look down at your arm, now adorned with digits in black ink. A phone number.
“Give me a call,” he smirks, and leans in even closer, until his lips move against the shell of your ear and a shudder runs down your back at the sensation. “Just think of the fun things we could do.” He throws you another wink and slides away from you, back into the crowd.
You text him the next day, worried if it’s too soon, if it makes you seem desperate. Then again, you have to admit to yourself, you are desperate. Desperate to hear his voice again, desperate to feel his hands on you again. Texting him is less awkward than you had hoped, his demeanor putting you at ease almost immediately. You catch yourself smiling at the screen, already down bad for this man.
You’re in bed, struggling to calm down enough to sleep when your phone’s screen lights up the darkness of your bedroom from where it’s lying on your nightstand.
He’s asking you to meet him in a dive bar, right now, if you want to. You’re reluctant at first, once again worried to appear too eager, but the almost magnetic pull that you feel towards him eventually leads you out of your apartment and to the address he sent you.
He’s waiting for you in the back, just like he told you. Wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt, the fabric stretching around his broad chest in a way that makes it hard not to stare, dressed much more casually than you’ve come to know from him. It doesn’t take away from his persona one bit, he’s still exuding that energy that seems to let him command every room he’s in, that makes it so hard for you to resist him.
He buys you a drink and pulls you into a corner booth with him. Talking to him is easy, he’s an attentive listener and his quick remarks make you laugh, leaning into him when you do. You learn that he’s not from around here, that he flew in to visit friends but that he’s thinking about moving here permanently. It almost scares you, how giddy that prospect makes you, the idea of having the chance to keep seeing him. His arm finds its way around your shoulders eventually, his fingers drawing shapes over your skin. The innocent contact makes you feel like a teenager, suddenly sixteen again.
He walks you home later, his arm still wrapped around you, pulling you into his side. It feels good, a sense of safety and intimacy that you feel yourself getting lost in. You had thought that he was hot, that he would be a fun hookup, but as the minutes tick on, you realize how much you already like him. How much you want this feeling to last.
It feels so natural, turning around to face him when you reach your building, both of you leaning in simultaneously until your lips meet, like it’s the only possible way for this evening to end. You think that it is.
Kissing him feels even better than you had envisioned in your mind, and you melt against him, one hand braced against his chest while the other comes up to pull at the hair in the nape of his neck, needing him closer, not ready to let him go. He’s cupping your face in both hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks, and you feel him smile against your lips. You lick into his mouth, revel in the groan that rumbles deep in his chest.
You don’t let go of him, holding onto his hand when you pull him up the stairs, soak in the feeling of him pressed against your body when you unlock your apartment door, let him connect his lips with yours again when he walks you backwards down your hallway.
Everything about him feels so right, so safe and yet like the most exciting experience you’ve ever had. You breathe him in, ecstatic with the sensation of his broad form against you, with the way you feel his muscles move under your fingers where you’re grabbing at his shoulders.
He lets you lead him into your bedroom, his hands still all over you. You push him down to sit on the edge of your bed and he follows your lead, sinking down on the mattress with an easy grin on his face, regarding you with hooded eyes. He wraps his hands around your waist as you’re standing in front of him and he pulls you closer. His fingers find their way below the hem of your skirt, dancing over the supple skin of your thighs, slowly inching up higher.
You whine, already squirming under his touch, and his grin widens.
“So soft,” he coos up at you, tightening his grip on your thighs and moving you to straddle him, your legs already spread wide to accommodate the thickness of his thighs beneath you. One hand comes up to cradle your face again, his thumb nudging at your lips and you flick your tongue against the digit, making him chuckle.
“And so pretty,” he continues, leaning in to connect your lips once more. You want to melt into him, let him consume every fiber of your being.
Your hands tug at his t-shirt, pulling it up, desperate to satisfy the need to be closer to him, to feel his bare skin against yours. He helps you, lifting the fabric over his head. You’ve seen most of his chest before, but not like this, not revealed just for you, in the dim light of your bedroom, yours to look at, yours to touch. He somehow seems even broader without clothes on and you’re almost transfixed by the thick cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders that are on display for you now.
He chuckles again, placing another kiss at the corner of your lips.
“You alright, princess?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, feeling breathless, overwhelmed with how much you want him.
His hands splay over your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath your skirt again, slowly, teasingly skating higher.
“Take this off for me.” It’s phrased like an order, but it’s still so soft, not leaving a doubt in your mind that you could say no if you wanted to. But you don’t. You want him to see you, want to feel his eyes on you, want to have this hungry look that’s trained on your face burning all over your body.
He groans when you obey, a deep, rumbling sound that goes straight to your core and you know that he feels your thighs clenching on top of his. His mouth is on your bare skin within seconds, kissing and sucking, his tongue moving against you like he’s going to devour you.
You arch against him with a whine when he circles your nipple, first with his fingers and then with his tongue before sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. It’s all encompassing, the wetness of his mouth, the strong grip of his hands, the heat of his chest seeping into your skin where you’re pressing yourself against him.
“Please, Oberyn,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re asking for, just knowing that you need more. His responding moan sends vibrations from his mouth straight through you, before his fingers dig into your waist and he flips you over, until your back is resting on your sheets and he’s hovering over you, your thighs still spread wide around him.
The image alone is enough to send another wave of arousal through you, the way he looks just as wrecked as you feel. His large hands spread your thighs wider as he leans back, his eyes trained on your panties, where you know the fabric must be soaked already.
“So pretty,” he mumbles again, more to himself than to you. His eyes fly back up to meet yours, almost black, his pupils blown wide. “Can I take these off?” He dips a finger under the lace covering your hip, pulling it away and letting it snap against your skin.
“Please.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, not when he looks up at you with the most sinful smirk on his face. His hands grasp the fabric and you lift your hips to help him pull it down, but his smirk widens as he tears the lace in half, ripping the shreds off of your body.
“Fuck,” you whine, not a single thought wasted on the fact that those were some of your favorite panties, every part of you focused on how badly you want his hands all over you.
His eyes stay focused on your expression, eagerly drinking in your every reaction as his fingers dip between your legs, so close to where you so desperately need him. He groans when he feels the wetness seeping from your folds, swirling his digits through it before reaching your clit. He’s ghosting over the sensitive nub with barely any pressure, but it’s enough to elicit a moan from you, your hips canting up to follow his touch. You’re distantly aware of the pleas that are falling from your lips, giving way to a loud whine when he finally sinks two thick fingers into your heat.
He thrusts into you, curling them just right, and his name tumbles out of your mouth again, laced with pure need. You watch in fascination when he sucks his slick-coated fingers into his mouth, eyes still trained on your face, a rumble forming in his chest at the taste.
“Tastes so sweet, princess.”
Your thighs fall open wider, shamelessly offering yourself to him, to his eyes, his hands. You reach out, grabbing at his waist, the need to feel all of him nearly overwhelming. His fingers intertwine with yours, pulling your hands away from his body. He lifts them up to his mouth and presses soft kisses against your knuckles, a whisper of patience on his lips before he lets go of you and rises up to rid himself of his jeans.
Your eyes widen at the sight of him, a needy sigh escaping you when you think about feeling him inside you, about the way he’s gonna stretch your walls. You sit up, eagerly reaching for him again. Your fingers wrap around his cock, mesmerized by his girth, and he hisses when you move your hand over his length.
You hear the crinkle of plastic and then his hand is on yours, gently tugging it away, much too soon for your liking. You watch as he puts the condom on with practiced ease, the sight of his own hands on his cock enough to send another wave of arousal through you.
He’s back on you before you know it, sliding in between your spread legs, his large hands splayed over your upper thighs, pushing them further apart. His eyes are trained on your weeping pussy, a hungry darkness in them. You whine when he rubs his cock through your wetness before tapping against your clit.
“You want this?” he asks, his voice husky.
“Please, Oberyn.” Your desperate plea breaks off into a filthy moan when he sheathes himself inside of you, breaching your tight walls with the most delicious sting, and you feel your eyes rolling back into your head.
Pleasure grows inside of you as he starts to move, slamming into your pussy in a forceful rhythm. You feel so full of him, the sensation almost overwhelming as he hits the perfect spot over and over. The wave inside of you crests so suddenly that you barely realize what’s happening, the need that you’ve felt brewing all evening finally reaching its peak.
You gasp his name, nails pressing into his shoulders as he fucks you through it, until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. He slows, moving in and out of you with shallow thrusts, his lips on yours once more.
You stay like that for a moment, arms wrapped around him, holding him close while you bask in the bliss that you’ve just experienced. But his continuous movements have the hunger for more growing inside of you once more. You meet his thrusts with your hips, needy to feel him deeper again. He props himself up, and it’s sinful how good he looks, his face glowing, a sheen of sweat on his skin.
You suck one of your fingers into your mouth, eyes wide and holding his gaze, feigning innocence. He watches you, a curious glint in his eyes, as you trail your hands from his shoulders down his back until you reach his ass and pull him further into you, fingernails digging into his flesh.
You let your saliva-covered finger reach further, gently massaging the puckered ring of muscle and he gasps, thrusting into you with so much force that it jostles your whole body and you cry out, the sensation of him so deep inside you a heady mix of pleasure and pain.
“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth as you keep up your ministrations, delighted to have this effect on him. “Fuck, princess, just like that…”
You bite your lip, grinning up at him. “Do the girls back home touch you like I do?”
He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, his movements never faltering as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them down on the mattress beside your head.
“No. And you’re gonna make me come if you keep this up, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he purrs, leaning down and sucking bruising kisses into the soft skin of your throat, the scratch of his beard only adding to the sensation. You free one of your hands from his grip to tug at his hair, your fingers burrowing in the soft strands at his neck and scratching against his scalp.
“You can give me one more, can’t you?” His voice in your ear makes you shiver and you nod, a breathless please on your lips.
“Good girl.” His kiss is soft against your cheek before he pulls away, his thrusts speeding up, as he grabs your hips, holding them up, giving you no choice but to take him. “Touch yourself,” he demands, the tendons in his neck straining with exertion.
Your fingers are on your clit within moments, rubbing against it, slick with your arousal. The coil inside you tightens again, desperate for release once more.
“Give it to me princess, come on.” His voice sounds wrecked, and it’s the thing that makes you leap over the edge a second time, stars exploding behind your eyelids as you pulse around him, pure pleasure soaring through you.
He comes to a stuttering halt, hips pressed flush against yours, and his groans are almost enough to make you want to come again. He falls forward, forehead pressed against yours, and you share a lazy smile.
You think that he really is the most beautiful person that you’ve ever met.
You fell asleep curled against him, your head resting on his chest and soaking up his warmth, with his arm around your shoulder, but when you blink awake to soft morning light falling through your curtains, you are alone. You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. You’ve seen him at the club, he’s probably in a different bed almost every night, you shouldn’t be surprised that he snuck out of yours in the morning. And you sure as hell shouldn’t be disappointed.
You get up with a sigh, pulling a t-shirt over your head and padding down the hall to the kitchen. You come to an abrupt halt in the doorway, met with a sight that you hadn’t expected. He’s standing in front of your open fridge, the expanse of his back bare and turned towards you. There’s a swoop of excitement in your stomach.
You exhale loudly and he turns towards you, an easy smile on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspier, still thick with sleep.
“Hey,” you say, returning his smile. He closes the distance between you and cups your face, the sensation of his thumb against your cheek already a familiar one. His lips find yours and you get lost in the feeling of it, in the fantasy of this being your every morning, in pretending that he’s yours.
When he pulls away, the words are out of your mouth before your mind is able to catch up.
“I think I really like you.”
You want to bite your tongue immediately, to take them back. Too early, the voice in your head screams. Your eyes widen as you search for something else to say, but he doesn’t waver, still regarding you with that relaxed smile on his handsome face.
“Is– is it okay that I said that?”
He hums, his large hand still on your cheek.
“I think I really like you too.”
as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!
#oberyn martell#oberyn martell x reader#pedro pascal#game of thrones#oberyn martell fanfiction#game of thrones fanfiction#oberyn martell smut#oberyn martell x you#oberyn martell x female reader#oberyn martell x f!reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedrostories#janas fics#fic: delicate
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“I’m always going to take care of you.” Alternate version!
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: this is a new version of my old series i wrote last year. so many people have asked to see more of how eddie deals with such a horrible thing happening to the reader, so here we go, this is for you!
warnings: PLEASE READ! this is purposely written, in the beginning, as fast paced. i was trying to establish a sense of anxiety and fear while writing it because of how quickly it happened. the assault happens differently and does not go into much detail this chapter, but will during the next. i purposely switched povs because i still wanted to give insight to the reader. so with that being said, warnings for this fic include: rape, blood and bruises, broken bones, hospitalization, language, smoking of weed, trauma and shock, lots of tears and angst. please, please, let me know what you thought and if there’s anything i need to go about differently. it’s been a year since i’ve properly revisited this series. i feel like this version will be much darker and will take more of a toll. let me know your thoughts and if anything needs changed. i never spellcheck lol. this one’s for all of us. i see you and feel you. much love, lana.
Steve Harrington’s parties were the kind that were talked about for weeks on end. The music, the food, the house. It was a mansion, and there had been many of times were you and Eddie had slept in multiple rooms of that house, unbeknownst to the owners knowledge.
This party was no different. Bodies were on bodies, beer was spilled and the pool was splashing every drop of water out into the flower bed, that was no covered in trash. There was a basketball court that entertained the jocks. It was an absolute mansion.
You were somewhere. Eddie would see you from time to time getting more beer or a snack, coming over to check on him. He closed his eyes, taking a long drag and leaned against the wall. “Shit, this shit is good.” He coughed slightly, letting his arms fall at his sides, black sleeves pulled up at his elbows.
You found him eventually, hair slightly wet from being splashed at the pool, a towel wrapped around your shoulders. Most everyone was wearing their bathing suits. You smiled when you sat down beside him, laughing at the redness of his eyes. “Feelin good, Eddie?” You tapped his chin.
He grinned at you goofily. “Shit, is the shit, babe. Wanna try?” He offered it to you.
You plopped down on your ass and sat beside him, saying hi to all the others that joined the circle. You laid your head on his shoulder. “Sure you don’t want to come swim with me, Ed? It feels good. Moons out, too. It could be romantic.”
“I give you plenty of romance, darlin’.” He said through hooded eyes, armed laid lazily around your wet shoulders. “Damn, your tits are out!” He exclaimed, finally realizing you had changed, eyes bulging for dramatics.
You laughed and rolled your eyes. “My tits are not out. Everyone is wearing them! You picked it out, don’t you remember?”
“Baby, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember much of anything right now.” He was practically drooling at the mouth, giggling like a child and floating off into space.
“Uh, huh.” You gave him a look before turning to the rest of the group. “He’s cut off.”
He was too stoned to realize what you had said, curling up in himself and lulling his head against the wall, eyes drooping closed.
“Eddie, Eddie, oh, okay,” You sighed, watching as he fell asleep. “I’m serious, Gareth, make sure he doesn’t do anything else. I got to carry this guy home, you know.”
You sat with Eddie for almost an hour, making sure he was alright. He always was. He always got tired when he smoked weed, you did too, but not near as much as he did. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, telling everyone else you’d be back and that you were going to change your clothes.
You went to the same room you always did, walked up the same steps and same corridor, the air cool against the exposure of your wet skin. Nobody was upstairs. You had planned for a quick change and nothing more, but you hadn’t any idea what was waiting for you behind the door, or the fact you were being followed.
•
Eddie was in and out of it, waking up here and there if someone spoke loudly enough. Dustin kept laughing, about what, he didn’t know or care. He just wanted to sleep. Later on he would realize that it was probably an act of God that he heard you, because there was no scientific explanation for it. He shouldn’t have heard you.
The music was booming loud, playing a hit from Blondie over the speakers. People were chugging beers, getting high and fucking out in the shed outside, the bedrooms above. The lights were flashing on and off, mixtures of colors painting the walls, their bodies. There was no way he could of heard you, yet he did.
He felt as if he were dreaming at first. His eyes were still closed, body numb from the awkward position he was in. It felt like a loud thumping at first, like something had hit the floor. Then a crash, something had broke. Then a high pitched noise, someone had screamed. It had to have been a dream, because he swore it was you.
Eddies eyes peeled open slowly, foggy and clouded from his high, but he didn’t feel so good anymore, and was left with a chill up his spine. He looked to the right of him to find you gone. “Gareth?” His voice was gravely and deep. “Where’d y/n go?”
Gareth pointed up the stairs quickly, eager to get back to his conversation with Robin about her thoughts on the new Back to the Future movie. Eddie had pushed himself up and found the stairs. It was a mansion, having had to climb four sets of stairs before he could find the hallway. Each set he could hear it clearer. He still shouldn’t have. The music was too loud. He could feel the vibrations underneath his feet against the wood flooring.
He walked quicker and quicker, the sounds of crashing, screaming, begging, becoming louder and louder. Soon, he heard his own name, and he knew it was you. He was running then, as fast as he could to find you. And when he did, the last door on the left, the same room you both had slept in many of times, he was brought to pure horror.
•
You weren’t entirely sure what was happening. Well, you did. You had been raped. You were just confused what was happening now. You were sitting up, staring blankly at the floor. Eddie was down at your feet, saying something, saying a lot of things, actually, but you couldn’t hear him. It sounded like he was underwater. Your ears were ringing, and he kept dabbing his hand under your nose. Were you bleeding?
Your hands were vibrating, along with the other parts of your body, shaking like you were having a seizure. Surely you’d pass out soon. Everything you felt was heightened. The pain, the emotion, or lack of. You soon realized you were going into shock.
You felt everything, yet nothing, all at the same time.
•
Four seconds.
It had taken four seconds for Eddie to react. Four seconds for him to decide what to do. He’d found you bent over the bed, hands pinned above your head and legs split apart. The man above you, twice your size, twice his size, a man he’d never seen before, raping you. It had taken him four seconds to react.
The man above you had stopped when Eddie had come in, staring at him in the act with a look of surprise and shock. Eddie lunged then, knocking the man over and into a side table that crumbled under their weight, a string of punches and curses, the sound of choking and items breaking. There was so much noise, but you didn’t hear any of it. You laid there, bent over, legs spread, a mixture of blood and semen seeping out of you as you stared straight ahead, fixated on the painting in front of you.
Steve and his mom at the beach.
You didn’t hear the sound of Eddie’s cry of pain when your attacker punched the wind out of him, you didn’t hear him run out of the room or Eddie’s footsteps after him, halting halfway and returning back to you. You kept thinking of Steve and his mom. She was so sweet. You really should spend more time with her.
All of that, led to now.
“Baby, baby, please, please, say something!” He panicked, knelt down at your legs, holding your arms to keep you upright, “Oh, God,” He took another look at your legs, covered in blood. “Oh, my god, Oh, my god.” He covered his mouth briefly, not knowing what to do. “Okay, okay,” He jumped up, running to the joining bathroom to grab a towel. “Okay, baby, I got this, see?” He started quickly wiping away at the blood, switching his eyes from his legs to you.
It looked like you’d been killed, or were dying. You said nothing, deathly pale, face stained with tears and mascara, deep bruising that painted your cheeks and eyes purple. Your lip was busted and bleeding. You were shaking with tremors, your breath coming out in little pants that were uneven. You were choking on your sobs, not a single one being allowed out. It hurt to sit, the pain in your abdomen was almost unbearable.
Eddie didn’t realize it himself, but he was also going in to shock. It became harder and harder to get the blood off of you due to his shaky hands, and his breathing become more sporadic and choppy. “I’m getting it, honey. I’m trying.” He said, words coming out in a rush. The towel was stained red when he’d finished, your legs still coated, stained by the blood from inside of you. He looked you over, shaking his head. He didn’t know what to do.
“Y/n,” He gasped, reaching up to grab your face. “Talk to me. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt at?”
You couldn’t look at him. It felt impossible. Your eyes were so heavy. His voice still sounded as if he were underwater, his movements slow, like he was fighting off a current, and you suddenly became freezing, trembling harder like you were out in the snow. Maybe it was the shock.
“Honey, please,” Eddie begged you, eyes tearing up. “I don’t know what to do.”
When he noticed how hard you were shaking, he jumped up and got a blanket from the chair, wrapping it around your body and sitting next to you. “Okay, here, I’m here. Steve!” His scream snapped you out of it, making you gasp and jump.
“No!” Your voice was hoarse, burning as you screamed. “No!” You tried to stand but you collapsed, pointing to the door. “Close the door! Close the door!”
Your urgency made him obey quickly, and he was slamming the door and locking it within a second. “Y/n-”
“You can’t tell anyone!” You sobbed, wobbling on your legs. You were a sight, one that would traumatize him for the rest of his life. “No one, swear it! Let’s just go home!” You we’re a wreck, sobbing, hyperventilating, shaking. Surely you would faint.
“Angel, baby,” He tried to approach you, but you freaked.
“No!” You jumped away. “Don’t- don’t touch me, please!” Was the room getting darker?
“Okay, okay,” He held up his hands, heart racing and bulging, fearful eyes. “I won’t touch you. I’ll stay right here, okay?”
You nodded, mouth opening and closing, feet shuffling, limping, trying to stay upright. Surely, you would faint.
•
His elbows are on his knees, hands pressed against his mouth. The chair he’s in is uncomfortable, an ache in his back that matches the one in his heart. Wayne is there, sitting across from him on the other side of the room. Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin are outside in the waiting room, along with the rest of hellfire. He tried to be discreet. Well no, that wasn’t true. When you’d fainted, Eddie lost it.
He’d swooped you up in his arms, carrying you down stairs, a sobbing mess, looking anywhere for anyone, to help. He found Mike first, then Chrissy Cunningham. The party was over very quickly.
“Eddie.” Wayne said tiredly, wearing a puffed, flannel coat. “Why don’t you go home, bud? I’ll stay with her.”
“No.” He didn’t miss a beat. He was staring a hole right through you, eyes so tearful they looked to be made of glass. “I can’t leave her.”
Wayne knew he wouldn’t leave. It was four in the morning, and you hadn’t shown any signs of life. If it weren’t for the machines, Eddie was sure you would have been dead. You were so quiet, not a stir, not a twitch. Were you dreaming? Was it good or a nightmare?
“She’s alright, buddy. You know that.” Wayne could see the telltale signs of his panic attack coming on. “You heard what the doctor said.”
You had abrasions along your vaginal walls. Your nose was broken, now covered with gauze and medical tape. You had two broken ribs, bruises covering your entire body. The doctor had asked him questions he didn’t know the answer to. Eddie knew what had happened, but what had really happened?
You would be okay. He knew that. You were alive and you survived. But were you okay? What would you become when you woke up? You would be totally traumatized, or would you simply move on with life? He knew the answer and he hated himself for knowing it. He knew the pain you were going to suffer when you woke up. He saw it. He saw what it was you would have to endure. A part of him wished you would sleep peacefully forever.
It felt like every vital organ inside of him had been ripped apart, like his stomach had been cut and everything spilled out. He’d thrown up twice since they got to the hospital. It been hours since you both got there. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d saw. Your body being used, abused by a man who had beaten you up, raped you, split you open and left bloody.
“Oh, god, Wayne.” Eddie broke down in sobs, shoulders sinking and face hiding into his hands for a shield, a mask to hide from the world. “This is all my fault.”
The image of you had scared his brain, the mental image something he thought he’d never be able to erase. Through everything he had gone through, this moment here, was the worst moment he had ever lived through, and he himself, would make a deal with god if he could, just to take your place, to take it all away. The love of his life was in pain, and it caused him more hurt than he could have ever imagined.
His uncle looked at him, saddened and distraught for the both of you. “Don’t say that, Eddie. You know she’d hate to hear you say somethin’ like that.”
Eddie’s body shook with heavy, deep and broken cries. “It is. I was asleep. I was asleep and stoned out of my mind while she was being raped right above me!” He practically spat the words with a venomous hatred, throwing out his arm as he looked at you longingly. “I failed her. Her, of all people. I fuckin’ failed the one thing I care about most. How the hell am I supposed to live with this?”
Wayne watched him stare at you, stare at you and cry like he was mourning for the entire world, like you had been taken from him.
“How are we supposed to be okay after this, Wayne?” He looked like a little boy then, looking over to his uncle with big, brown eyes. “How can I…how can she ever forgive me?” Another sob, and another. Wayne was sat beside him now, holding his shoulders as Eddie cried.
“You two have been through hell together.” The old man said, on hand on his nephews new. “You’ll get through this. She will and you will. She stood by your side when you were dying, remember? She helped you through it. It did you both in, but you got through it, didn’t you?
He didn’t answer, but he heard his uncle loud and clear. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he’d help you in every way he could. He owed it to you. You’d patched him up, held him through nightmares and insecurities about his scars. You fed him, helped clothed him and helped him keep himself clean when he was still too sore to move around. You had put your own life on pause for him. He owed it to you to do the same. In his eyes, it was his own fault it happened, anyways.
“Yeah.” Eddie sniffled, wiping away his tears with his jacket. “Yeah, I- you’re right. You’re right. I can help her. I’ll help her. She’ll be okay.”
“She’ll be okay.” Wayne assured him.
He didn’t realize just how hard it was going to be, how a giant rift in your relationship would almost separate the two of you. That the both of you would be forever changed from that night.
Eddie gulped, blinking back tears as he looked at the steady beating of your heart in the vital screen. “She’ll be okay.”
#eddie munson#i will always take care of you#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x female character#female reader
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Only An Almost (V)
Chapter 5: Doubting
Hello!! Here comes a new chapter! There are mentions of sex in this chapter, so a little reminder that this series is not meant to be read by minors. Thank you!
I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!
*************************************
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU
Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!
Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.
Word Count : 2435
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
Three weeks passed. You had spent twelve nights together.
Now, Andrew knew every detail of your face as you reached orgasm, the beauty spot on your back he loved kissing, the perfect place across your neck to kiss and nip that made you squirm in his arms, the way the most intimate parts of you tasted, how your legs shook when his fingers touched that spot, how you smelled when he held you close after you were both content and happily floating above the room. He knew you liked to hold his hand right after sex, that you loved when he stroked your back or your cheek to help you ease down into the mortal world, that you took your showers way too hot, that you didn’t like when his beard brushed that part of your ribs because it tickled too much. He had mapped every inch of your body with his eyes, his fingers, his lips, his tongue. He knew how to pleasure you precisely by now, how to read through your breathing what you needed him to do to feel as good as possible, how to worship your body the way you deserved.
And judging by your gestures, you had spotted too that he adored when you kissed his collarbone and his chest. That he had a weak spot at the base of his neck, that he was ticklish right behind his knee, that he melted whenever you dragged your fingertips across his spine, and you tugged on his hair the perfect way nor too harsh nor too soft but the ideal strength that turned him on to no end. You had touched and kissed all of him too by now.
Despite this new intimacy, despite the tenderness with which you held him in your arms as he struggled to find back his breathing, the way you whispered his name in pleasure as if in a prayer, the way you showered him in gentle touches and kisses… you still acted the same as always outside the bedroom.
You talked the same, stood next to him at a perfectly respectable distance, asked him about his day and his mom and his bees the way you had always done, as if… as if there was nothing abnormal. As if he had not heard you shout his name in pleasure the night before. As if you could truly spend nights making love to him and act like nothing had changed, when… everything had changed.
Perhaps he just needed to be patient. You would come around. You would love him, eventually. Besides, he was probably not even the problem at all! You had told him that you didn’t want a relationship, with anyone. The fact that you were still sleeping with him showed that you liked him enough to blur that boundary, despite your decision. Yeah, it was an encouraging sign. If he just… if he just waited, and if he made efforts to make you happy and…
“Andy? You’re alright?”
“Hmmm?”
“You’re okay?”
He blinked back at you. You had put on an old t-shirt again to cover yourself, but he had nothing on. He felt naked, vulnerable, self-conscious. He drew the covers higher across his chest.
“You want some coffee before leaving? It’s pretty late,” you offered, and if there was kindness in the offer, it still broke his heart.
“I… I don’t know. I’m not sure I can drive,” he answered earnestly.
“You can sleep in the guest room, if you want.”
He looked away to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes.
He was inside you ten minutes ago, he had tasted you, touched you, made you unravel under him several times this evening… and all you could give him was the guest bedroom?
It wasn’t just heartbreak, he realized. It was more vicious than that. You made him feel terrible about himself. Did he not mean more to you than that? You could let him do all these things to you… but you couldn’t fall asleep in the same bed? Really?
“No, no, no… it’s okay, I can drive.”
“It’s late, stay the night. You’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s dangerous, Andy.”
“I said I’m fine.”
You frowned at the harshness of his tone.
“What’s wrong? Did I… Did I do something wrong while we were…”
You left your sentence suspended in mid-air, as if you couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say that you had just had sex with him. What the fuck was wrong with you?
“Sex was amazing, that’s not the problem.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
You seemed to truly have no clue. You seemed genuinely concerned, worried even. Like you cared. Like you cared so fucking much for him. And yet, he was worthy of a moment of pleasure, and the guest bedroom…
“Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m not tired enough to stay, don’t worry. I can drive home.”
“Can you text me, then, when you’re home?”
“Don’t worry…”
“It’s two in the morning, of course I worry.”
He didn’t argue, merely nodded.
He gathered his clothes, got dressed, left without trying to kiss you, he knew you wouldn’t let him.
No kissing without sex.
He was about to fall asleep after mere minutes behind the wheel, so he stopped on the first parking spot he saw. He waited for a plausible time, and texted you.
I’m home.
Your answer buzzed in his pocket right when he was about to fall asleep.
Good to hear. Sleep well, Andy. Xx
He couldn’t keep on doing this for long. Making love to you, and then feeling like shit about himself because you couldn’t bother letting him fall asleep in your bed. Or hold you close. Or kiss you before leaving.
He closed his eyes, unable to decide on what to do next. Should he just call it quits, already? Stop everything and save himself from suffering… but he would stop having you like this too…
His breathing deepened as he finally surrendered.
Sleep well, Andy…
Rugby night at the pub had turned into Sam freaking out about his wedding, and Andrew taking notes about things he needed to help planning.
Luckily, there was no touring planned, no album to be released before the wedding. He had some charity work to be done, Mavis had called for a concert and he couldn’t refuse the woman anything… all in all, there wasn’t to come. Workwise, Andrew was in a writing phase, shutting himself up into his house for hours was most of what would happen in the coming months. He could help to plan the wedding, he had time for it. And considering the level of stress Sam was under, Andrew’s help wouldn’t be too much…
“Daphne started to mention appetizers yesterday… there are like… so many of these… How am I supposed to choose that? I didn’t fucking know there could be so many appetizers?!”
“Sam, calm down, for Christ’s sake! You’re this far from having a stroke.”
“Easy for you to say, Andy! You’re not the one getting married!”
“You have five months, Sam… Five months. There is plenty of time for you to choose your appetizers.”
“Add it to the list. How many things do we have to plan?”
“Hmmm… I think I’m up to twenty…eight. Twenty-eight things.”
“God… why did I ask Daphne to marry me…”
Andrew opened his mouth to offer a joke, but Sam shushed him with a raised finger.
“Rhetorical question. Don’t.”
“Come on, relax, Sam. You’ll be perfectly fine. Everyone else manages to plan a wedding, you can too.”
“Not everyone else… don’t you remember the fiasco that my uncle’s wedding was?”
“I sang at that wedding!”
“That was the only decent part in the entire day.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“You were seventeen, don’t get ahead of yourself, you were still pretty shite.”
“Ha, there you go. I thought someone had replaced you with some weird doppelgänger stuff. Or a clone, even.”
“Android?”
“Or organic.”
“Did I grow in a tube?”
“Yeah… with the disgusting liquid.”
“Nice…”
The two friends exchanged a smile.
“Please, stop being so worried. Your wedding will be amazing. Besides… who cares about appetizers? The important part is you marrying the love of your life.”
“I know that this comes from a very romantic point of view, but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve met my mom. God, you’ve met Daphne’s mom… anything goes wrong, it’ll be the bloody apocalypse!”
“We’ll find your body somewhere in Wicklow…”
“In the bog.”
“Tragic. I can see the headlines already…”
“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely speech for my funerals, though.”
“Absolutely not. I’ll reveal my true feelings about you, gobshite.”
Sam couldn’t keep the act up any longer, and both him and Andrew exploded with laughter.
“I’m picturing your mother just… shouting at you about appetizers,” Andrew laughed, choking and tears pearling at the corners of his eyes as he doubled over.
Sam was barely breathing at this point, throwing his entire body backwards against the chair.
It took the two of them a moment to calm down. When he looked at his friend again, Sam’s gaze was full of fondness.
“I’m sorry to bother you about that while we could be watching rugby with the rest of the lads.”
“It’s alright. You’re stressed. Besides, I don’t have a real job, plenty of time on my hands to handle your nervous breakdowns.”
“True! You parasite.”
“Absolute junk of our society.”
“Nothing productive coming from you, that’s for sure.”
“I shout very loudly though, it ought to be worth something.”
“Well, apparently, it’s worth millions.”
“Do you want me to shout at your wedding?”
Sam’s lips curled into a smile.
“Aren’t you too expensive for a poor lad like me.”
“Undoubtedly. But if you promise to quit freaking out about appetizers, I might yield.”
“It would be amazing. Thank you, Andy. I’d love for you to sing. Actually, we’ve been talking about it with Daphne… could you do Work Song for our first dance?”
“It would be an honour. Of course, I can.”
“We were hesitating with Cherry Wine…”
“Don’t do this to me, Sam.”
They both exploded with laughter again.
“Don’t do this to me. I will never understand…”
“Don’t people just… listen to the lyrics?” nodded Sam.
“I don’t know, man…” Andrew heaved a sigh. “Sometimes they just kill me.”
His phone buzzed, and there was your name on it. Printed there in the pixels. He didn’t check your text, even though he wanted to.
“Andy?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on between you and Y/N?”
Andrew averted his gaze, drank some of his beer. On the screen at the back of the pub, Ireland was earning three points with penalty kick. People were shouting, and it was loud and merry.
“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” Andrew answered, a terrible liar.
“You’ve been weird.”
“I’m always weird.”
“True, but not the usual weird. You’re not on the ‘I love her and I’m too much of a fool to tell her’ kind of weird, you’re on a ‘I feel like shite’ kind of weird.”
“Both miserable situations…”
“True. But then, you’re a moron, it doesn’t help.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
Andrew heaved a sigh.
“I can’t tell you about it. She asked me not to tell you about it.”
“So… something did happen between you and Y/N.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“You can’t tell anyone about this, Sam. I’m serious.”
“Of course, I promise.”
“Not even Daphne.”
“Don’t push it. There are no secrets between us.”
“Sam… please… it’s not your secret, it’s mine.”
He heaved a sigh, but Sam nodded anyway.
“What’s wrong then?”
Andrew struggled to swallow when he lifted his glass of Guiness up to his lips.
“Y/N and I, we… we’ve slept together.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“What?! But… that’s amazing!”
“Is it?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” retorted Sam, taken-aback.
Andrew heaved a painful sigh and rubbed his eyes.
“Because she doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”
“Oh.”
“So, we’ve agreed on some kind of… friends with benefits situation. And I… I’m starting to regret it.”
“You bet. Damn… why the fuck would you agree to something like that, though? You’re crazy about the woman!”
“I know, I know… I thought… I thought that she would… I don’t know what I thought. It was that or nothing, and I guess I imagined that having a part of her was better than not having her at all. I was wrong. This is fucking killing me.”
Andrew buried his head in his hands.
“What the fuck did I do, Sam? What did I do? And what the fuck do I do now?”
“Do you want this to go on?”
Andrew shook his head no, face still in his palms.
“Then, tell her you want it to stop.”
“I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want… not to have her. I want to date her.”
“Tell her that then.”
“She explicitly told me that she didn’t want to date anyone. If I say that, she’ll just… leave. She won’t say yes.”
“You need to speak to her. It won’t end well for you, Andy. What if she feels the same?”
“I’ll wait for her,” Andrew answered without a hesitation. “I’ll wait as long as she needs.”
“Then tell her that.”
But Andrew blinked back some tears as he painfully rubbed at his palms.
“What if she doesn’t feel the same? What then?”
“Then… you’ll move on. It will only mean that she isn’t the one.”
Andrew slowly nodded, resting his chin in his palm and his elbow on the table, but he didn’t seem convinced, and indeed, he wasn’t. What if he lost you for good then? What if you never wanted to see him again? Was it worth it?
“You’re going to do something stupid, I can feel it,” Sam sighed with a shake of his head.
“No…”
“You’re going to ignore my advice.”
“No, I… I’m weighing the pros and the cons.”
“And?”
“And I agree that I can’t handle my relationship with Y/N being just about sex. But I am also terrified at the thought that she will reject me for good. Cause I… I don’t think I could still be her friend. Not after… knowing her that way.”
“Can I be brutally honest?”
“As if you aren’t always…”
“You’ve seriously fucked up accepting this situation with her…”
“Don’t I know it.”
Sam stared at his friend for a moment.
“You really do love her, don’t you?”
Andrew settled an empty stare on his beer.
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m afraid I do.”
#hozier#the hoziest#andrew hozier byrne#hozier x reader#hozier x y/n#hozier x you#hozier x fem!reader#hozier fanfiction#hozier fanfic#hozier series#series#fanfic#fanfiction#writing
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Stars Align: Part 8
Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Mentions of Abuse, Angry Bradley, Swearing, Alcohol, Sexual Themes, Soppy and Emotional Scenes.
-- Part 7 Here --
-----------------------
18+ Only
-----------------------
Past:
''Would you hurry up? We're never going to get a good spot.'' Bradley groaned as he stood outside the guest bedroom while you got ready for your beach day.
''Okay okay, I'm ready.'' you said as you shuffled out of the bedroom, an oversized t-shirt draping over you like a blanket.
Bradley scrunched up his nose, ''How are you gonna catch any sun with that thing on?''
''I'll take it off when we get there.'' you said as you grabbed your beach bag and made your way down the stairs.
You opted to walk the short distance to the beach as the weather was perfect. Carole had given you one of her big sunhats and Bradley had fished out his dads old aviators. Together the pair of you looked like an old married couple, squabbling about stupid things jokingly as you walked.
Bradley slung his arm over your shoulder as the sound of the sea and happy vacationers became audible, and he sighed.
''One day when we're older and earning money, you're gonna live with me.''
''Why would I want to live with a gross boy?'' you teased.
''Because I'll be like super ripped and you won't be able to keep your hands off of me.'' Bradley winked, and you shoved him away with a groan.
''Yeah you wish.''
Little did you know everything Bradley had said would come true, eventually.
You found a little spot on the beach and put your things down, scanning the water for somewhere to swim.
Bradley bent over to remove his shoes, and as he stood back up you were in the process of taking the huge t-shirt off.
Bradley gulped loudly, your body was incredible. He wasn't sure when you really became a woman, but there was nothing left of that dorky teenager he'd helped years ago.
Your bikini was figure hugging and complimented every curve. Gabby had taught you a thing or two about dressing for confidence, and boy was she right, you felt much less awkward in your own skin suddenly.
You began to walk towards the water, ''You coming, Bradshaw?''
Bradley closed his mouth and nodded, ''Yeah...yup. Coming.''
As he followed you to the sea, he tried to keep his eyes on the water ahead, instead of on his best friend, who was really beginning to give him confused feelings.
He watched as you stepped into the sea, the waves lapping at your soft skin. You gasped as the cold water splashed your chest and hopped around as you adjusted, and Bradley's jaw hit the ground.
He suddenly couldn't hear or see anything but you, and he felt himself losing control over himself.
''Shit.'' he mumbled as he quickly sat down under the cold water.
''Wow that's brave, the waters freezing.'' you said, as the cold waves splashed up against Bradleys lowered form.
''Mhmm.'' he mumbled through gritted teeth. Sure, the water was cold and it wasn't a pleasant feeling being submerged so quickly, but it was doing wonders subduing something else.
He breathed as his erection went down, and waded deeper out into the water, following you as you finally submerged yourself.
You swam around and floated in the water for a while, enjoying the happy sounds of people splashing around, the smell of the sea and sunscreen filling your nostrils.
''It's so nice to be back.'' you sighed happily, looking back at the shore.
''It's nice to have you back. You have no idea how lame it's been without you.'' Bradley chuckled.
''You're so soppy all of a sudden, who even are you?'' you teased, and splashed Bradley in the face.
He looked at you in shock, ''How dare you?'' and splashed you back.
You laughed and lunged at Bradley, gripping his shoulders and trying to push him under the water, but you'd forgotten how tall he was, and he didn't even budge under your weight, instead your body landed against his, and he steadied you with his hands on your hips, your faces inches apart.
You flushed red and pushed away, swimming backwards as you glared at him playfully.
''Alright, I'm cold. Let's go get a tan.'' you instructed as you swam back to shore, your heart racing at how desperately you wanted to prolong the awkward little moment you'd just had.
''Okay, I'll... I'll be out in a minute.'' Bradley mumbled awkwardly, waiting yet again for the water to subdue his excitement.
_____________________________
Present:
You blinked rapidly, desperately hoping you were having a horrible nightmare and you'd wake up in the bungalow tucked safely under Bradleys strong arm.
Nat moved to your side and gripped your arm to steady you. Bradley had told her briefly about a bad ex and Nat was smart enough to recognise trauma when she saw it.
“Is it him?” She mumbled in your ear.
You nodded, as you forced some air into your lungs.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Jacob chuckled, his dazzling smile almost nonchalant as he edged closer. Alice grinned from behind him.
“Hope you don’t mind, Y/N, but a quick scour of your Facebook showed so many happy pictures of you two. I just figured… well, it might be nice to find him and reunite two old flames.” She smirked, a glint of revenge in her blue eyes.
“When I heard you’d left Fall River, it really hurt me…” Jacob stepped forward and took your hand, cupping it in his other.
You still couldn’t speak, for fear the tears would begin to fall and you’d look weak. You tried to put on what you thought was a brave face, but to everyone around you, you looked terrified, like a ghost of bad times past stood before you.
“I really thought that one day, eventually, you’d forgive our squabbles, and you’d come back to me. I mean, I called, I called so many times. And I came to your door but you were never home, but I just thought our love was stronger than all of that and you’d eventually wake up and see that too.” He sighed, his blue eyes crinkled as he grinned down at you, black hair slicked back perfectly as it always had been. Nothing about Jacob had changed in the last few years.
He was still the same devilishly handsome, darkly dangerous man as before.
You had somehow, inexplicably, been able to avoid him for the past few years despite the small size of the town. Jacob had changed schools after the breakup, but it didn’t stop the ferocious slander from the other teachers who sided with him.
You managed to memorise his very particular pattern. He shopped on certain days, at certain times, in certain stores. On Saturdays he went to the library for most of the day, so you knew it was safe to run your errands, and you mostly stuck to shopping in the evening when you were sure he was at home, sipping wine and tucked into a good book.
You felt immense relief when you left town, finally feeling a sense of freedom you hadn’t had in a long time, but suddenly you felt all of the sneaking around and moving was for nothing, and your body began to shake.
“Please leave.” You managed to squeak out.
“Leave? Do you realise how far I’ve come just to see you? The least you could do is have a drink with me, beautiful.” He cupped your cheek and your body locked up. A single tear slid from your eye as your nostrils filled with his musky cologne, all of the bad memories rushing back.
“Jacob I think you need to go, if you know what’s best for you.” Nat stepped forward.
“You called?” Hangman sang as he walked back into the room, Bradley following and both none the wiser.
“Not you, Jake. Him. It’s Birdy’s ex.” Nat scowled at Jacob. Hangman eyed up the newcomer and moseyed forward with his own face plastered in a cocky grin.
Bradley’s eyes finally landing on you and your shaking form, and man with his hands on you, his eyes went dark and his body tensed up.
“Well well well, I’m sorry ‘Jacob’. I’m afraid there’s only room for one Jake in this building… in this city even, and that’s me. I’ll be happy to escort you out.” Hangman drawled, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it dramatically to the floor.
Jacob let go of you and focused his scowl on Hangman, walking cooly up to him. “This is none of your business, kid. Maybe just stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.”
Suddenly, from just behind Jacob, Bradley cleared his throat. The two men were about the same height, but when Jacob turned to face him, Bradley seemed at least a head taller than him as he stood tall and angry with his fists clenched at his side and his jaw set.
“You’re Jacob?” Bradley ground out.
“That’s me, buddy. My girls been talking about me, I take it?” Jacob smirked over at you. But just as soon as he looked back, Bradley’s hand was wrapping around Jacob’s neck as he pushed him up against the nearest wall.
Jacob struggled as his neat hair came loose from its slicked back hold, huffing against the wall as his eyes scanned the room.
“I’m only going to tell you once to get the fuck out of here, if I catch you anywhere near her again, it will be me and every naval officer in this room you’ll have to contend with. Got it?” Bradley growled, his face red and a scowl etched deep into his features as his huge hand wrapped tighter around Jacobs neck.
The Hard Deck was now silent as everyone, including Penny, stood with bated breaths. Even Alice looked surprised.
Hangman, Bob, Javy, Mickey and Reuben stood in a half circle around Bradley and Jacob, ready to pounce at any sign of struggle. Nat stood at your side, her arm hooked around your waist just in case, as you stood watching in horror.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” Jacob said, his shit eating grin still unfaltering as Bradley reluctantly let go of him.
Jacob smoothed his hair back and straightened his shirt and jacket, and Bradley followed him through the crowd towards the entrance.
The rest of the Daggers followed, and reluctantly your feet began to move too. You had to be sure he was really leaving.
Once out in the parking lot, a crowd beginning to gather at the door, Bradley stood with his huge arms crossed as he watched Jacob walk towards his rental car.
You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you thought it was all over, but Jacob suddenly stopped, chuckled to himself, and then turned around.
“Actually, I always knew it would end like this. With me kind enough to give my girl another chance, but naturally the little whore has surrounded herself with more men than she can satisfy.” He spat, and it was enough to release Bradley’s rage.
Bradley surged forward across the gravel, “You fucker!” He growled, and his fist connected with Jacobs face.
Jacob stumbled back in surprise, touching his split lip and smirking at the blood on his fingers as Bradley stood over him.
“Stay the fuck away from her. She’s not your girl.” Bradley spat.
“You don’t know who you’ve fucked with. I’ll see you around.” And with that Jacob turned and climbed into his car.
Alice stood in the crowd and crossed her arms. Her plan had seriously backfired. All she wanted was for Jacob to take you away so she’d have another shot with Bradley, she hadn’t realised the full extent of the situation. Before anyone could pick a bone with her, she slunk off into the crowd and disappeared.
Bradley took a moment to breathe, his hands on his hips as he collected himself.
You stood behind him, hands still clasped over your mouth, shaking like a leaf. Bradley turned around and his angry face softened as soon as his eyes landed on you. Wordlessly he pulled you into him and held you, kissing the top of your head.
“Are you okay, Birdy?” He whispered into your hair.
You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around him, “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I’m not... It’s nice to know so many people are fighting my corner, especially with you at the centre. I don’t feel so scared anymore.” You said as you looked up at him.
Bradley bent down and kissed you gently, his swollen hand threading through your hair.
You pulled back slightly, “What about the others? They’re gonna know.”
“I don’t care. I want them to know you’re all mine.” He said before his lips connected with yours again.
“I fucking knew it!” Nat chuckled from the entrance.
“Alright alright, let’s give them a moment.” Bob smiled, and everyone filtered back inside.
—————————
Past:
The summer had passed in a blur, and before you knew it, you were spending your final night in the Bradshaw household before you had to fly back the next morning.
The summer had been filled with perfect memories. Long days down at the beach, evening walks around the neighbourhood reminiscing about the good old days, lots of laughter at dinner times and movies in Bradley’s bed before you went to sleep.
Carole didn’t mind you spending time alone in each others rooms, provided you went to sleep in your own beds at night.
On the last night you finished watching The NeverEnding Story for the tenth time, a movie you and Bradley had loved when you were younger, and you said goodnight to him as you left for your bed.
Bradley sat in his bed for a long time after you left, contemplating how to sneak the letter he’d wrote you into your suitcase without you noticing. He’d been thinking about it all summer, and had decided he needed to tell you how he felt.
He wasn’t the best at using his words, so felt it better to write everything down, and hoped you’d be long gone by the time you read it, so that he wouldn’t implode into himself if you read it in front of him.
Once he was sure you must have fallen asleep, Bradley crawled out of bed and grabbed the letter from his desk drawer. His hands shook as he held it in his hands. Letting out a shaky breath, he snuck out of his room and padded quietly down the dark hallway.
He carefully opened your bedroom door, and he could hear your steady breathing. You were asleep. He snuck inside and crept towards your suitcase. He bent down and slowly unzipped the front pouch.
“Bradley?” Your soft voice hummed.
Bradley shot up and threw the letter on the floor, kicking it under the chest of drawers.
“Hey Birdy.” He whispered.
“What are you doing in here?”
He was quiet for a moment, but then he walked over to the bed and climbed in next to you.
“I just wanted sleep next to you one last time.” He whispered.
“Won’t your mom be mad?” You whispered back, turning on your side to face him, close enough to feel his breath on your face.
“She doesn’t need to know.” His heart was thudding against his chest.
“Okay, I’m glad you’re here. I always sleep better when you’re around.” You grinned.
You closed your eyes as Bradley stroked a strand of hair off of your face. You looked so beautiful, it would be so easy just to kiss you. But Bradley was terrified you’d reject him and he’d ruin the entire summer by making one wrong move.
Little did he know you were desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair and have your way with him too.
“Birdy?” Bradley’s hoarse voice mumbled.
“Hmmm?”
“I… uhm…” he trailed off, unsure of how to put what he wanted to say into actual words.
“What is it?” You hummed, your hand gently moving to lay flat against his chest. You could feel his heart thudding and you wiggled closer.
Bradley’s breathing caught in his throat, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the fear of losing you.
“Nothing.”
“Okay.” You sighed, slowly turning over so your back faced him. You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. You really thought he felt the same for a moment there, but you must have misread the room.
Bradley silently cursed himself. He knew the moment had passed to say anything, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t just enjoy having you there before you left again.
Edging closer, Bradley slipped a hand onto the dip of your waist, and lay his head on your pillow so he could rest his chin on your shoulder.
“Goodnight, Birdy.”
“Goodnight, Roo.”
—————————————
-- Final Part Here --
Note: I dunno about y'all, but this is who I imagine Jacob as:
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You have surgery | Han Jisung
ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend! Han Jisung x Reader
ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,
ᑉ³warnings; Wisdom tooth removal, dentist, Anesthesia, amnesia
ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon! Based on a true story (me!)
Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin| Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin
As the nurse administers the anesthesia, you squeeze the hand your holding tightly, drawing strength from their steady grip. You feel a cool sensation spreading through your veins as the anesthesia takes effect, gradually enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and tranquility.
A wave of anxiety washes over you, but it feels distant, muffled by the encroaching haze of unconsciousness. Your palms grow clammy, and your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. He reaches out, His touch is barely perceptible, a faint brush against your cheek. His whispered words of encouragement are like echoes from a far-off place, reaching you through layers of fog.
"Hey, you've got this," he murmurs softly, his voice fading into the recesses of your mind. "I know you're scared, but you're the bravest person I know. I'll be right here when you wake up, holding your hand okay?" His words cling to your consciousness like a passing dream.
With one final breath, you faintly hear the words "I love you" as you close your eyes, letting go of your fears and surrendering to the gentle embrace of unconsciousness.
-
As consciousness slowly returns, you find yourself floating in a hazy fog, your senses dulled by the lingering effects of anesthesia. Your eyelids flutter open, revealing a dimly lit room swirling with shadows and blurred shapes.
Confusion washes over you as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. The faces that hover at the edge of your vision are unfamiliar, their features distorted and indistinct.
Panic begins to rise within you, a knot of fear tightening in your chest as you search desperately for something familiar, something to anchor you. Your heart races in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as panic tightens its grip around your throat.
You try to push through the fog, to grasp onto fleeting fragments of memory that slip through your fingers like grains of sand. But the harder you try, the more elusive they become, slipping further and further beyond your reach.
Desperation claws at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to flee, to escape this nightmare world of shadows and uncertainty. But where can you run when you don't even know where you are?
And then, amidst the chaos of your mind, a voice breaks through the fog, a soft whisper that cuts through the darkness like a beacon of light.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," his voice trembles slightly, gentle yet filled with love. "It's me, Jisung. Do you remember?" he asks softly, his tone laced with a mixture of hope and fear.
"Who are you?" you manage to croak, your voice trembling with confusion and fear. The name 'Jisung' means nothing to you in this moment of disorientation.
A flicker of sadness passes through Jisung's eyes, but he quickly masks it with a reassuring smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm Jisung," he repeats gently, his voice tender yet tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Your boyfriend. We've been together for a few years now."
You blink, trying to process his words, but the fog in your mind refuses to dissipate. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your heart heavy with guilt. "I don't remember."
Jisung's expression softens, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes, but he remains silent, his concern evident in the gentle squeeze of your hand. As you slowly regain awareness, you find yourself in a dimly lit room, the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.
Your gaze sweeps the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Where am I?" you murmur, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
"In the hospital," Jisung replies, his tone gentle yet urgent, his words a beacon of reassurance amidst the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth removed, but you're all done now. Everything's going to be okay," he adds, his voice laced with a desperate plea for recognition, his eyes searching yours for any sign of comprehension.
"Maybe going for a walk might jog your memory," the nurse suggests as she walks into the room, her voice a gentle interruption in the stillness.
You try to sit up, only to realize you're cocooned in warmth, covered in two blankets and a coat. "What's all this?" you say, puzzled by the unexpected comfort.
"You got cold, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't see you tremble, so I tried to cover you as much as possible," Jisung explains, a slight tremor in his voice betraying his concern as he gestures to his coat draped over you.
With the help of Jisung and the nurse, you slowly stand and begin to shuffle around the hospital corridors, the steady rhythm of your footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. As you move, the motion seems to stir something within you, coaxing snippets of memories to resurface from the depths of your mind. With each step, the fog of confusion begins to lift, replaced by a growing sense of clarity.
And then, like a dam breaking, the first clear memory floods back, washing over you in a rush of recognition.
You pause mid-step, a look of realization dawning on your face.
"BBama," you murmur, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I remember BBama."
isung's expression flickers, a mix of surprise and mild disappointment crossing his features before he quickly masks it with a forced smile. "Yeah, BBama," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "He's a good boy."
You sense a shift in his demeanor, a subtle tension in the way he grips your hand a little tighter. Guilt washes over you as you realize the impact of your words, the inadvertent reminder of your forgotten memories hitting Jisung harder than you expected.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm in a silent gesture of apology. "I didn't mean to—"
But before you can finish, Jisung shakes his head, his forced smile softening into a genuine one. "It's okay," he reassures, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "It's just... funny how memories work sometimes."
As you walk, Jisung's disappointment hangs heavy in the air, his silence speaking volumes as you navigate the hospital corridors together. You can feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts, a palpable tension in the way he holds himself.
Guilt gnaws at your insides as you realize the depth of his disappointment, the fear that perhaps you'll never fully remember the moments you've shared together. You want to reach out, to erase the hurt etched into the lines of his face, but words fail you in the face of such uncertainty.
Lost in thought, you suddenly remember a fleeting moment, a snapshot of a memory that cuts through the fog.
"The ferris wheel," you say, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you recount the memory that has surfaced in your mind. "It was a sunny afternoon, and we went to the carnival. We got on rides, and we laughed and talked for hours."
Jisung's eyes light up with recognition, a spark of joy dancing in their depths as the memory comes flooding back to him. "I remember that day," he says softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "It was one of the best days of my life."
"You were afraid of heights and got scared at the top of the wheel. I kissed you to calm your nerves," you recall, a blush tinting your cheeks as you relive the tender moment. "And in that moment, everything felt... perfect," you add, your heart fluttering at the memory of Jisung's comforting embrace.
Jisung's gaze softens, his eyes shining with love and longing as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "It was perfect," he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.
After spending some time reminiscing in the hospital corridors, Jisung helps you gather your belongings and leads you out of the hospital. He takes your hand gently, guiding you with careful steps as you navigate through the corridors and out into the crisp evening air.
As you step outside, you're greeted by the cool breeze, a welcome relief after the sterile confines of the hospital. Jisung flags down a taxi and helps you into the backseat, ensuring you're comfortable before climbing in beside you.
During the ride home, you lean against Jisung's shoulder, the events of the day catching up with you as exhaustion washes over you. Jisung wraps his arm around you protectively, offering silent comfort as the taxi makes its way through the city streets.
When you arrive home, Jisung helps you out of the taxi and supports you as you make your way inside. Once indoors, he settles you onto the couch, fluffing up pillows to make you comfortable.
"Minho hyung dropped off some soup for us. Let me serve you some," he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the kitchen.
As you sink into the cushions, the sharp ache in your jaw intensifies, signaling to your senses that the anesthesia is wearing off. Every movement sends a jolt of agony through your body, and you clench your teeth to stifle a cry of pain.
Your eyes brim with tears. Talking feels like shards of glass scraping against your raw gums, and even breathing seems to exacerbate the throbbing ache in your jaw.
With Jisung in the kitchen, you try to compose yourself, not wanting to alarm him. You take slow, shallow breaths, trying to find a way to cope with the overwhelming pain that courses through your body.
But despite your best efforts, silent tears slip down your cheeks, betraying the torment you're enduring. You press a hand to your mouth, muffling the sobs that threaten to escape, not wanting to disturb Jisung as he prepares soup to ease your discomfort.
Minutes feel like hours as you wait for Jisung to return, each second punctuated by sharp pangs of agony that seem to intensify with every passing moment.
Finally, you hear the soft shuffle of footsteps as Jisung reenters the living room, a tray of steaming soup in his hands. He pauses as he sees you, his eyes widening in alarm at the sight of your tear-streaked face.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with concern as he rushes to your side, setting the tray down on the coffee table before gathering you into his arms.
You cling to him desperately, unable to hold back the flood of tears any longer. "It hurts," you manage to choke out between sobs, the words barely audible as you bury your face against his chest.
Jisung holds you close, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I'll make it better, I promise."
You cling to him desperately, your tears soaking into his shirt as you surrender to the overwhelming tide of agony. Each sob racks your body, a symphony of suffering that echoes through the silent night.
"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as he presses another kiss to the top of your head. "I wish I could take away your pain."
As Jisung holds you, he whispers soft words of comfort, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your suffering. You feel a flicker of relief in his arms, a fleeting respite from the relentless ache that grips your body.
Eventually, Jisung guides you to sit up, his hands gentle as he helps you into a more comfortable position on the couch. He retrieves the tray of soup he prepared earlier and sits beside you, offering you the spoon with a tender smile.
You try to eat, but the pain makes even the simplest of tasks feel like an immense effort. Each attempt to swallow is met with searing agony, and you can't help but feel a sense of incompetence wash over you.
"I'm sorry," you whisper, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to eat. "I can't do this."
Jisung's heart breaks at the sight of your distress, but he remains steadfast in his support. "It's okay, love," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm as he takes the spoon from your hand and gently feeds you, " Let me help you."
With each spoonful of soup, Jisung's movements are deliberate and gentle, his fingers cradling the spoon as if it were the most precious thing in the world. He watches you intently, his gaze soft and reassuring as he anticipates your needs.
As the warm broth passes your lips, you can feel the tenderness of his touch, his fingers brushing against your skin with a feather-light caress. It's as if he's not just feeding you soup, but pouring his love and care into every bite.
Despite the pain that still lingers in the corners of your mind, you find solace in the simple act of being cared for.
As Jisung continues to feed you spoonfuls of soup, he notices the heaviness in your expression and decides to lighten the mood. With a playful glint in his eyes, he brings the spoon closer to your mouth but then pulls it away with a mischievous smile.
"Here comes the plane!" he exclaims, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm as he mimics the sound of an airplane soaring through the air. He moves the spoon in a swooping motion, as if it's about to land in your mouth, his expression hopeful for a glimpse of your smile.
Despite the pain and discomfort, you can't help but chuckle at his antics. His determination to bring a smile to your face melts away some of the tension, and you find yourself playing along, opening your mouth wide as if ready to accept the imaginary "airplane" spoon.
Jisung grins triumphantly as he feeds you the soup
Once you've finished eating, Jisung takes care of everything, cleaning up the kitchen and washing the dishes with meticulous attention to detail. He returns to you, draping a soft blanket over your shoulders and ensuring you're comfortable on the couch.
Then, he gathers you into his arms, holding you close as you cling to him. He wipes away your tears, whispering words of love and comfort until your sobs subside.
"Shh, it's okay, my love," Jisung murmurs softly, his arms wrapped protectively around you. "You're safe. Just breathe," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Let me kiss the pain away," he murmurs, pressing another tender kiss against your temple.
"Shh, it's okay, my love," Jisung murmurs softly, his arms wrapped protectively around you. "You're safe. Just breathe," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "Let me kiss the pain away," he murmurs, pressing another tender kiss against your temple.
As your sobs gradually subside, Jisung holds you close, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting embrace. He brushes away your tears with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I hate seeing you in pain," he admits softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I wish I could take it all away."
You nestle closer to him, finding solace in his embrace. "It's not your fault," you reassure him, your voice muffled against his chest. "I know you'd do anything to make me feel better."
Jisung's arms tighten around you, his love evident in every gesture.
"I was so scared," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "When you didn't remember my name or my face," he begins, his words carrying the weight of vulnerability, "it felt like my world was falling apart. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of having you look at me as if I were a stranger."
Your heart aches at his confession, realizing the depth of his fears. "I could never forget you, Jisung," you assure him, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You mean everything to me."
A soft smile tugs at Jisung's lips, his eyes reflecting the love and adoration he holds for you. "Knowing that means more to me than you'll ever know," he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you more than words can express." he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I'm sorry you're in pain. I'd rather it be me than you."
You lean into his touch. "You're my everything, Jisung," you whisper, your face close to his. "And I wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else by my side."
As you lean into his embrace, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. And as he lulls you to sleep with soft murmurs and gentle caresses, you drift off into dreams, knowing that no matter what, you'll always have Jisung there to hold you and kiss the pain away.
·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024
#stray kids smau#skz smau#skz texts#stray kids#straykids x you#stray kids ff#straykids angst#skz imagines#straykids fluff#skz#skz x reader#bang chan#lee felix#lee know#minho#changbin#jeongin#seungmin#hyunjin#injury#lee min#skz stay#han jisung#han x reader#han jisung x reader#han jisung x you#han jisung x y/n
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Been a while since I offered a Bowuigi AU idea! Buckle up, this one is going to be rough 😈
It all starts with a typical, run of the mill battle of the Bros against another villain on the outskirts of the Mushroom Kingdom. For once Bowser is on their side. Well, sort of, he wants the same thing as the villain and won't take no for an answer. All in all, your usual boss battle.
Until it's not.
Something goes wrong wrong wrong, the villain triggers something, a huge explosion is about to happen, Mario grabs Luigi's hand and flings him away to safety right before everything goes KABOOM!!
All goes dark for Mario.
When he wakes up, he's stuck under rubble and it takes him hours to get out. Outside, everything is...different. The battlefield was barren and scorched when he last left, now it's lush and green in the bright sun. There is no one around.
Whatever, Mario thinks, the priority is to make it back to the MK castle. But it's easier said than done; the bridge he wanted to take is broken, the usual warp pipes don't work...
He comes across some Shy Guys at some point and instead of attacking him, they shriek and run. Mario follows them, and that leads him to one of Bowser's floating fortresses. On Mushroom Kingdom territory.
More and more worried about Peach or Luigi being prisonners,Mario manages to sneak inside and starts looking for his friends.
That's when he comes across Bowser.
Who looks a lot rougher than the last time he saw him. But what's surprising is how flabbergasted Bowser looks at his sight, before turning absolutely furious and charging, attacking Mario with a rage and desperation he's rarely witnessed, roaring "LEAVE US ALONE !!!".
Mario fights, and although he's not in top shape, manages to land some big blows on Bowser, and even gets him into a position where he can jump on him and deal a serious attack as Bowser is laying on the ground.
But right before his foot can connect, a blast of lightning intercepts Mario and sends him flying.
"Get away from my husband, bastardo!!!"
That voice...Mario looks up, and, standing defensively in front of Bowser, fists cracking with lightning...
"Luigi??"
"...Mario ??"
Bowser gets back up and immediately scoops up Luigi:
"You know it's not him! You know it's happened before! Stop falling for the tricks of that...thing !"
And before Mario can react, Koopa Troopas pile on him and manage to overcome him.
Once he's locked away and everyone has calmed down, he progressively learns the following facts:
It's been years since the battle.
He's been dead. Not missing : dead. His body, or what was left of it, was buried by Luigi and Peach in the aftermath of the battle.
Everyone in the Mushroom kingdom was heartbroken, of course, especially Luigi and Peach, but Bowser was more affected than everyone expected by his archnemesis' death. To the point he fell into a deep depression and started neglecting his kingdom.
King Boo saw an opportunity and turned on him, attacking the Darklands and capturing Bowser and his family. Luigi, initially looking for missing Toads, accidentally came to Bowser's rescue.
That was when the first impostor came along. Right after King Boo was defeated, something vaguely shaped like Mario with red eyes showed up and attacked them both. Bowser and Luigi, reacting on instinct, protected each other. Luigi was in a deep state of shock afterwards, to the point Bowser, himself deeply shaken, kept him and nursed him back to health.
Luigi stayed in the Darklands for some months after that. They started bonding. Luigi was angry at Bowser, of course, but he took being in their enemy's care as his punishment. He couldn't stay at the Mushroom castle, feeling guilty and ashamed whenever he was around Peach, and unable to talk about his brother with her. Bowser was the closest persn to Mario aside from Peach and himself, and they started having long discussions about his brother. Then it moved to other subjects. Then Bowser started showing a different side of him, one that gave Luigi the comfort he deeply needed. Then Junior grew attached to Luigi.
When they started dating, another Mario clone showed up. Still a poor imitation, but just a bit more similar to the original. They defeated him, but it burned away and they couldn't gather enough information to know where to look.
It showed up again. And again. Each time Luigi and Bowser grew closer, another Mario clone would show up out of nowhere to attack them. And each clone was closer to the original than the previous one.
The one who attacked when peace was signed before the Darklands and the MK had a normal human skin (instead of a dark metallic one).
The one who attacked when Luigi officially moved to the Darklands had blue eyes.
The one who attacked on their wedding day could speak.
Luigi was now scared of that new threat showing up. And yet he was sure this one wasn't just a clone, this was the real Mario! Somehow back from the dead!
...Right ?
That was what Mario learned.
But what he concludes is this : Bowser must be behind all this. He has magicians who dabbled in necromancy, he has cloning magic, he would be able to do this. Mario didn't understand why Bowser pretended to love Luigi instead of Peach, but he was convinced all of this relationship was some kind of ploy to get revenge on Mario and use Luigi. And Luigi had to be under some influence to love and trust Bowser. It had to be. It couldn't be otherwise!
....Right?
.
Is Bowser sincere in his sentiments for Luigi? Has he been using him since the beginning? Is Mario the real Mario or the most advanced version of these evil clones? Who is right? Who is wrong?
#super mario bros#bowuigi#miscellaneous mario madness#long post#Ista writes#taking the Bowserphobic Mario joke and running it through the angst grinder
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Gonna be a bummer for a bit! (CW fish illness)
Lucy started pineconing slightly a few hours ago and I feel really shitty about it because I don't know what I could have done for this to not have happened, but I'm sure there was something.
Her fin rot visibly and dramatically worsened over the weekend despite a second dose of the antibiotic treatment I was using, and I even had a second medication arrive today, but she was already lethargic and not really eating. She's just been floating in the front corner of the tank where I usually feed her with her belly somewhat swollen, not really moving except to take breaths every once in a while. And then as of the past couple of hours, her scales are popping up a bit, which, in combination with the belly swelling, pretty much guarantees end-stage renal failure resulting in fluid retention, which is a death sentence for a fish.
She's always been such a lively fish full of way more personality than you'd expect from, y'know, a little aquatic creature, and I have been so convinced that she'd live a good life of at least 4-5 years of chasing shrimp around, but here I am with her probably-dead barely a year and a half into her life. It just feels shitty, because this isn't, like, a random death - there's clearly a disease process happening - but I don't know how to fix it or what I should have done to prevent it, except maybe realize that it was happening earlier. I still don't know if the red splotches she developed months and months ago were signs of a latent bacterial infection or just her changing colors like bettas sometimes do.
I've done water changes. Her water parameters are pristine. There's a thriving and reproducing population of adult and baby shrimp in her tank, which are all notoriously bad at handling crappy water. There's no other fish in there to stress her. There are so many plants. I only feed the highest quality betta food I could find based on extensive reviews. I added shrimp for enrichment and snacks. The water is heated. Even a few hours ago, I was convinced that I could get her through this. What happened?
I guess now I just mostly feel bad because barring a miracle, I'm probably going to find her dead tomorrow and it's going to be fucking horrible. Her poor fins look so awful right now. At least she's in a comfortable and familiar place. She's moving around a little more, now, and the pineconing is less obvious in the new light...I'm going to at least hope that I'm wrong about this.
Swim in peace, Lucy, if you don't make it the night.
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happy 1 year of r&r :)
i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u
soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long
ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year
i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???
like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r
but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account
AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to
@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)
& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile
there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess
but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys
#r&r tease#ough i cannot believe r&r is a year old#happy birthday r&r you are my favorite child#gonna go post that fic now#or in like 10 minutes#idk i haven't edited anything#stay tuned
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A Haunted House with a Picket Fence to Float around and Ghost my Friends
Ghost x Reader (Platonic)
Ghost has been having a hard time lately. What can you do to help him?
Ao3 Link
~
Retirement was killing Ghost. It had been a year and a half now and the lack of routine, the loneliness, everything... he couldn't handle it. All he did lately was rot in bed, not getting up unless it was to use the bathroom and maybe grab a protein bar and water bottle. What was the point anymore? No friends, no job, what did he have to get out of bed for? What was there to live for?
He��was forced into retirement after the death of Soap and an injury he obtained in the mission after.
You were the newest member of the TF141, joining shortly before Ghost left. You two didn't get to know each other well, but you knew each other enough. Well, enough to get each other's cell phone numbers and keep in contact.
Well, until Ghost dropped off of the face of the earth. He stopped contacting anybody on his old team and stopped answering messages and calls. It worried everyone.
You didn't have the time to check in on him for a few months, occasionally sending a message to check on him in your free time, but he never answered you. It worried you to no end. But you were in another country on a mission; what could you do about it until you got back?
The first thing you did as soon as you got some approved leave time was head over to his place. You hesitantly knocked on his door. You weren't sure what you'd find. There was no answer and after a few minutes, you knocked again.
"Simon?" You called out. "You there?" You could see a small light on through the window. You tried the door. Unlocked. That worried you. Ghost was paranoid by nature, why would his door be unlocked? "I'm coming in, okay?" You yelled, opening the door.
You entered his flat, not sure what you'd see. There wasn't anything in the living room, no signs of Ghost or anything else.
You walked by the kitchen on your way to his bedroom and peeked in. Nobody there. You knocked on his bedroom door and listened. There was no answer, but you could hear a slight shifting. He was in there.
"Hey, I'm coming in there. You better be decent." You joked, trying to conceal your worry and panic about the whole situation. You pushed the door open and looked in.
Ghost was lying on his stomach under his pile of blankets on his bed, just looking at the wall. His eyes flittered to you for a moment and then he looked away. He didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about the situation. He just felt tired and numb.
You frowned, looking him over. He looked like hell. His hair was greasy and shaggy; he always kept his hair in shape. He was unshaven and he had dark bags under his eyes. You could tell that he had lost some weight. It was... kind of sad, honestly. You felt bad for him.
You kneeled beside his bed, looking at his face. "Hey... what's wrong?" You asked softly. His eyes darted in the other direction, avoiding looking at you. You sighed and set an arm on his arm. It was obvious what was wrong with him, he was depressed.
You stood, taking in the state of his room. There were protein bar wrappers all over his side table and a warm water bottle. At least he was eating and drinking, you supposed. Ghost tried to hide his disappointment when you left the room, but you swiftly returned with a glass of cold water and a sleeve of saltines.
You moved some of the stuff aside and set the stuff down, sitting on the side of the bed. You brushed some hair out of his face gently. "Why didn't you call me, Simon?" You asked quietly. "I would have asked Price for some time off earlier."
"Embarrassing." Ghost whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"You're sick, that's not something to be embarrassed about." You spoke.
"I shouldn't be." Ghost shook his head. "I'm better than this. I'm better than this... depression, this weakness." You smiled sadly.
"That isn't how it works, Simon... You got injured, you got put out of work, you lost someone really important to you. You're allowed to be struggling. It doesn't make you weak." You said softly. "But you'll get out of this. I'll help you, okay?"
Ghost didn't say anything, turning his head so he faced the other direction. You sighed and put a hand on his back. Ghost felt his heart drop at that and he wasn't even sure why. "Simon..."
"You can't fix this, okay? You can't fix me." Ghost said.
"I'm not trying to fix you. I'm trying to help you feel better. There's a difference." You explained. "Now come on. Sit up for me, okay? I got you some water and it's getting warm." He shook his head and you stared at him for a minute. Your heart hurt, seeing him like this.
You were stronger than you looked and you stood up, grabbing him under his arms and flipping him, dragging him to sit up against the back of the bed. He looked indignant at this, too surprised to really do anything about it. You sat back down on the bed, grabbing the water and holding it out to him. "I'm not letting you waste away anymore. Now drink. At least half of it, please." You asked.
He looked at you for a moment, like he was going to say something, but he eventually complied, grabbing the glass with shaky hands and taking a few sips until it was gone. He was thirstier than he thought, and the cold water felt good against his throat.
"Thank you." You smiled at him and took the glass back. "Do you feel up to eating something? I just brought crackers, nothing big. You didn't really have much anyways." You said. He nodded silently. You opened the pack for him and got a few saltines out for him, handing them to him. He ate a few. He was ashamed of himself, being taken care of like this, having let himself get this weak. He was better than this. The thoughts brought tears to his eyes and that made him feel worse.
He wiped at his face and sniffled. "This is pathetic. I don't cry. Why am I crying?"
You set the crackers aside, putting a hand on his leg. "You're allowed to cry. It's not pathetic. Crying is good. It's better than holding everything in." You assured him.
He looked away, the tears finally falling down his face. He didn't say anything else and neither did you as you pulled him in for a hug. He buried his face in your neck and just silently let the tears fall, his shoulders shaking. You held him gently, rubbing his back and rocking a little. You hated that he was so upset. You hated he got this bad and you weren't here to help him through it. You tried not to think about it; you were here now and that's what mattered.
He pulled away when he calmed away and he rubbed his face. "I'm sorry." He apologized, looking at the wet patch on the shoulder of your shirt.
"It's okay." You reassured. "It's a shirt, it will dry. You're more important, I promise."
He wasn't sure what to say. He didn't feel important.
"How long has it been since you showered?" You asked him. He shrugged, embarrassed at this answer.
"I don't know. It's been a while." He said. You nodded.
"Okay. How about this? You get in the shower for me; you don't even have to wash up if you don't feel like it, you can sit in there if you want. And I'll help you shave. And then I'll leave you alone for a while, okay?" You asked. You wanted him to at least feel a little better and showering and shaving helped with that a bit, you knew.
He hated that he let himself get this bad. He knew you wouldn't let this go, though. "Okay. I guess." He said quietly.
You were grateful that he didn't argue with you. "Thank you. I'll get you some clothes, you can go ahead and shower if you want." You said.
He nodded. He dragged himself out of bed and stretched, his bones cracking and his muscles stiff and sore from laying there for so long. He limped his way to the bathroom (a side effect of the energy that resulted in his retirement) and you went to his closet, trying to find some clothes for him. You ended up grabbing some sweatpants, a hoodie, and a towel for him.
You knocked on the door and opened it. Ghost had already gotten into the shower. You set the clothes and towel on the counter for him. "Come get me when you're done, okay?" You asked. He hummed in response and you left him to his own devices.
You cleaned up his bedroom a little while he showered, waiting for him to finish.
He eventually stepped out of the bathroom and spoke up, "Hey."
"Hey." You smiled at him. "Feeling any better?" You asked. He nodded.
"Yeah, kind of. Thank you." He said quietly.
"Of course, Simon. That's what I'm here for. It's what friends do." You said softly, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Now come on, let's go work on shaving." You led him back to the bathroom.
There was already a stool in there for when he had to sit to do things so you were glad for that. You sat him down and started digging through his cabinets for what you needed, pulling out a razor, a washcloth, and some shaving cream.
"Ready?" You asked. He nodded. You turned on the warm water and wet the washcloth, wiping his face with it gently. When his face was wet enough you got some of the shaving cream on your hands and rubbed it on his face, careful not to make too much of a mess with it.
You grabbed the razor and wet it under the running water. You started at the sides of his face, pressing down gently and dragging the razor along. You did your best not to nic him. You washed the razor off after each swipe and were just as gentle each time you went back.
Ghost watched your face as you focused. Your eyes were intense and the tip of your tongue stuck out a little. It was kind of cute.
When you were finished, you grabbed the washcloth and wiped his face again, getting rid of any extra shaving cream and blood from any small wounds he might have.
You helped him stand up and look in the mirror. He stared at himself for a minute. It was refreshing, seeing himself looking nice for on7ce. His hair wasn't a greasy mess and he was clean-shaven for the first time in months. It made him feel a little bit better about himself. It gave him a little hope, he realized. Maybe he could do this. Maybe things would be okay.
"Thank you." He said quietly, making eye contact with you in the mirror.
You smiled softly. "It's what friends are for."
#guys i had to google how to shave for this#i havent had to shave my face for the first time yet#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod mw2#cod mw3#tw suicidal thoughts#tw depression#title from i know the end by Phoebe Bridgers
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magical girls anime except they've already finished their magical mission as teenagers and now they're adults still grappling with physical and mental trauma from what they went through while they navigate a world that has commodified their identities as magical girls.
#this idea has been floating inside my head for years#and i dont really mean it as an edgy or 'deconstructive' story#i just feel like there's something interesting about the exploration#of the lives of 'magical girls' when they stop being 'magical' and 'girls'#also how does the world realistically react to real magical girls?#what does the government do?#how does social media react?#do other governments attempt to replicate them?#but most importantly how do the girls react in return and what kind of adults they become because of it#ahhh there's a lot of things i wanna poke around it#text post
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It’s my birthday <3
#repost cuz Tumblr hates me#Now i have three versions of this post floating around#Thanks Tumblr 💀 /lh#I wanted to make something nice this year haha#This year’s been a wild one and I wanted to share my thoughts#I think I did pretty well considering I have trouble articulating my big feelings sometimes haha#I hope you guys like it <3
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bisexual bobby. i'm right.
#ok so let me paint the scene: it's bobby's college years. he's been roommates with this guy idk lets call him derek for a few months now.#they INSTANTLY clicked yk? and bobby's been feeling weird around derek but he jots in down to the thrill of having a new friend (he#experienced this before w his middle school bsf but never figured out why) and anyway when derek comes out to him he's like 'woah why am i#literally about to float out of my skin with happiness???' and he ponders about that for a bit and THEN we get the classic#practice kissing trope where they're like 'hahab wouldn't be fun to see hahaba' and anyway so they do that and bobby's like 'OH' so he#kinda distances himself away from derek cause he's like 'if he liked me he would've said smth' while derek OBVIOUSLY likes him and he's#hurt and confused about bobby not talking to him so he's like 'listen i really didn't mean to make u uncomfortable and i think it's best#that i move out' and bobby is like too shocked to say anything so derek takes that as his cue to leave and then they see each other in#hallways and basically yearn for each other for the rest of college#damn bro wrote a whole lore and everything#sorry im really passionate about this for no reason at all u dont have to read all that#bobby nash#911 fox#911 show#911 headcanons#bisexual
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presenting one of my longest surviving mello headcanons just because:
he's not actually naturally blond.
hear me out.
naturally, his hair is more of a light brunet. linda and her friends introduced him to peroxide at wammy's, and ever since he's been religiously bleaching his hair (with matt's not-so-willing assistance).
when he left, his absolute least favourite thing to do was try to touch up his roots on his own - because he'd always had matt there to help. maybe he would sit & watch those 'how to bleach your own hair' tutorials on youtube from his mafia boss laptop, who knows. regardless, he hated doing it - he'd always miss a section, or process it for too long, or get way too frustrated by how much it made his arms ache to try & reach the back; it was pretty much just a pain in the ass.
and then, you know, when he met back up with matt during the kira case, one of his later requests was for matt to fix his roots - just like he always had done. it ultimately became a kind of unspoken peace activity between them; matt was less reluctant to do it this time around - mostly because he saw the traces of his childhood best friend in this hardened, super powerful mafia boss with really overgrown roots, sitting there asking for his help the same way he had done when they were fourteen.
and, naturally, matt kept doing it. every single time - sometimes without mello even needing to ask. he'd just set up in the bathroom and wait for him to come back home.
it's just. such a comforting headcanon to me - and in a way, it makes sense. maybe it's just me, but in the anime mello's hair desperately needs toning. even in the wammy's scenes, it's very orange (a similar kind of orange that bleaching brown hair gives). he might be of genius-level intellect, but it just feels on brand that he & matt don't know about toning his hair (or at least, they don't know how to do it right).
maybe in an alternate ending, halle would get so sick of seeing him never tone his hair properly that she'd put him onto T18 or whatever. who knows.
#death note#mihael keehl#mail jeevas#headcanons#this has literally been floating around inside my brain for years so. here you go#in reality i just have an incurable case of domesticity disease#it also just makes a lot of sense i feel like?? he really needs some toner
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.
#that army fan club questionnaire floating around today#not going to reblog it because#i’m kind of over getting blocked for having spicy tags#but#man it blows my mind the toxic shit that makes it into official content sometimes#it’s one thing to leave in some of their off hand comments#from behind the scene footage but#literally the FIRST question#‘your pants don’t fit but you’re hungry- just drink water instead right?’#like who is that for#who is feeling better about anything reading that#do you ever think about all the things they’ve been told by their teams over the years#if this is what is being put out on public display#i know i know Korea is different idols have different standards whatever#eat a fucking banana then a glass of water is not a meal#you can look hot and be fit and still consume food#hybe is well aware the fandom is made up of people#who hang on their every word#a lot of whom at least FIND bts whilst Going Through A Thing#do better man#shout out to jin for being the only one who chose food#he never gives into the not eating bullshit and I love that about him#anyway that’s my two cents#just a girl having thoughts#here on my own blog in my own lane
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Various images of things
#image commentary in tags once again since they don't allow captions anymore and I feel weird using the alt text for that --#1. PIBBINS.... cheering clapping hooting hollering glorious applause everytime I see a pigeon in public#2. Birthday card that I drew for someone. .. kittys...#3. 2023's annual haul of tiny white pumpkins.. i get at least one white pumpkin every year around fall when they have pumpkins in stores#because I just love the color and texture ... bright white and smooth and cold and round.. kind of like a volleyball or something#4. A brief adventure into watching big brother (only earlier seasons of course as I hate all reality shows post like 2013 or something when#they became overly focused on social media and overproduced memeable phrases more.. like even though ALL reality shows have always#been extremely fake and annoying and mindless it's like..... newer stuff seems A Different Kind Of Fake or something) since whenever#I'm sick sometimes I find weird mindless things like that to watch (that one time I had bronchitis I watched all of Flavor of Love in my#half awake illness stupor and now everytime I heat up canned minestrone soup (mostly all I ate that week) I think of flavor flav since#thats just a weird brain connection I have now lol) ANYWAY.. I was sick and watched like 2 seasons of this and then thought it was too#uninteresting and obnoxious to continue (more like 1 and a half since I skipped the rest of one once only boring people were left) BUT this#one guy had a very mischevious looking face and he also said a few things (like the above captioned speech) that sounded like dialogue#some fantasy character would say.. so I took a screencap of him and edited him into a mischevious wizard i guess.?? idk I was sick lol#~your little friend has a poisoned tongue~ is just a very unexpectedly serious sounding wording for some random normal#frat dude looking guy to say while casually chatting on a reality tv show in like 2008 or whenever that was filmed lol#5. FLUFFY CLOVERS!! I'd never seen them be furry and soft before?? inchresting..#6. Noodle sitting in bed with the cat figurines looming above him... the council of kittys...#7. McDonald's full breakfast platter + asparagus + strawberries & cream (also of course this is old and I am now boycotting mcdonalds etc)#i try to group the images somewhat consistently like.. winter stuff with winter stuff or summer stuff with summer stuff#but I have so many random pictrues floating around on my computer that I never post that sometimes some are not organized or just#thrown into a set because there's nowhere else for them. Like the pigeon picture is from like 3 years ago for example lol#8 & 9 - I think I've posted these before but I just find them very interesting looking flowers. whenever they happen to be blooming#I'll pick up a few when I'm out on walks or etc. ... poof ball looking things#photo diary
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