#if I didn’t start physical therapy (hell) I would barely be getting out

[cahootings]

anyway to continue my brand of being an annoying person generally im blasting Christmas music on November 1 but I truly feel like I missed all of October this year. Where did it go. I was inside. The trees outside my window just started turning but yesterday they had an inch of snow on them. The seasons went and changed without me ☹️

[lesservillain]

iv. someone like you and all you know and how you speak

summary: old friends and halloween shenanigans cw: we see peen. an: i love joyce byers. also pic of matthew lillard is implied to be reefer rick.

Eddie started having night terrors. 

They didn’t come every night, but their intensity had you concerned.

The first one had you flying over the back of the couch to get to him. His shrieks turned your blood cold, and watching him shake and convulse was terrifying to witness. In your panic, you wrapped your arms around him to try to ground him and ended up getting hit in the face. After that you asked your teacher for advice on what interventions to do when someone has an episode.

But you weren’t the only one to suffer with pain after getting clocked in the jaw. The days after an episode left Eddie’s body sore from the sudden jerking of his muscles in his sleep. It probably didn’t help that he had also started physical therapy twice a week either, leaving him sore even with his pain medication most of the time. 

Needless to say, Eddie was acting like his normal grumpy self most days, even when his friends would come over. Though, he did try and reel it back when he could catch himself or with a subtle nudge from you. By now you’d gotten used to his grumpy attitude and knew it was just coming from a place of hurting. In turn he’s been much more cooperative with you. Progress.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” You ask with a laugh, as you get out of your car. Eddie is sitting on the ground leaning back against his hands with his legs sprawled out. Will and Grant sit on either side of him as Dustin pushes Eddie’s wheelchair on its back wheels, Jeff sitting in it and squealing as Gareth and Mike laugh.

“They’re trying to break Jeff so him and Eddie can get matching chairs,” Grant called, eliciting a laugh from Eddie and Will.

“N’they’re gonna pay for his new one when they break that one,” Wayne calls from the porch, lit cigarette in hand. All around him are pumpkins of all different shapes and sizes, like a little pumpkin patch had grown around him.

“Ah, I see.” You nod.

Grabbing your bag, you walk into the Munson home to get your things settled. Glancing over into the dining room, you expected to see the table already set up for their game night, but were surprised to see it covered in newspaper and knives and spoons. 

“Are you guys carving these pumpkins?” You ask, stepping back out onto the porch and pointing at the Wayne’s posse.

“Yep,” Eddie called back. “My PT said it would be a “fun activity” to work on my hand strength," he said with stiff fingered air quotes.

“Yeah, Eddie’s gonna scoop out all the guts with his bare hands,” Dustin says, setting the wheelchair back down to wiggle his fingers.

“Ew gross,” Mike joins in with Dustin’s antics.

“It’s not gross,” you say with a roll of the eyes. “Save the seeds and I’ll bake them for later.”

“Mmm, some roasted pumpkin seeds sounds real good.” Wayne says, putting his cigarette out and standing from his seat. “Save me some a’them when you make em.”

“Of course!”

“Hey, should we show her what we found earlier?” Your ears twitch when you hear Will lean into Eddie’s side. He looks at you over his shoulder, then back to the group before nodding.

And that’s how you ended up following the boys through the woods around the Munson house. Grant pushed Eddie’s chair through the woods, which wasn’t as terrible of terrain as you had expected. If the slight bounce bothered him, Eddie didn’t say. You stayed steady next to him, only moving to let them go ahead of you when the mostly thinned out trees were too close in some areas. 

After a few minutes and a lot of loud conversation between the boys, you came to a small clearing that dropped off into a cliff. It made you nervous to see the boys get so close to the drop, especially when Grant pushed Eddie almost to the very edge.

“Hey, be careful, please,” you called from behind them. 

“Come on, come see how far down this is!” Jeff called, his toes right on the cliff’s edge. You take a couple steps forward, just enough that you can see the water sloshing at the bottom. 

To see it made you dizzy, so you tried to focus your eyes elsewhere, instead taking in the breathtaking view of the lake below. You could see boats, houses, and even a man fishing off of a dock behind his house. If there was a railing or something to hold on to out here, you could see yourself coming out here to sit with Eddie on a nice day.

“Woah, shit!” Your heart stops beating as you watch Will pull Mike’s stumbling body back from the ledge, and you’re instantly done with this whole adventure.

“Alright, I get the idea. Field trips over,” you say, walking over to Eddie’s chair and pulling him back. “We better go carve those pumpkins before it gets too late and the kids have to go home.”

There’s some groans of protest, but they all follow your lead back to through the woods.

“You have to admit it was pretty cool, though, right?” Eddie says, his head tilting back just a bit to look at you. He was smiling. It was something he started doing more and you couldn’t help the way it made your stomach flip every time he did it.

“Yeah, it was definitely a nice view,” you agreed with a sigh. 

“Maybe when it gets warm out we can try jumping from it.” You hear Gareth say to one of the other boys. You recall the large drop from where you all stood at the top and a shiver went down your spine.

“I wouldn’t...unless you really want to get your own wheelchair to match Eddie's,” you say back. Gareth doesn’t let out another peep for the duration of the walk back.

“Okay, since Eddie is on scooping duty make sure you give him your pumpkins once you’ve got the tops off.”

The boys are sitting in their normal gaming formation, except for where Eddie and Gareth have swapped sides so Eddie can sit next to you. The pumpkin that the boys picked out for Eddie sits in front of you since you offered to carve it for him.

“What are you going to draw on it?” You ask him as you cut into the top of the thick pumpkin with force.

“I’m not sure yet,” he says indecisively. “Something scary for sure.”

“How about Mrs. O’Donnell?” Gareth nudges Eddie’s side, and the boys at the table all grimace.

“Fuck no. As terrifying as she is, I’d rather carve a demoba--”

Eddie catches himself mid sentence, horror written all over his face as he looks directly at Dustin. Mike and Will share similar pale faced expressions as Dustin. The tension at the table could be cut with a knife and you weren’t sure how to defuse the situation.

“Well,” Grant is the first to break the silence, “I think that, whatever we all decide to do, that we could make it into a competition. Let the newbie decide who has the best design.” He was looking straight at you and you were caught off guard by the new label. 

“Oh, come on, that’s not fair,” Gareth chimes in before you can say anything, “Will is like, one of the best artists in the whole town. He’s definitely gonna win.” Will sat up straight in his chair, before shrinking down with a smile.

“Hey, now, let’s not forget who designed these bad ass tee shirts,” Eddie says, gesturing at himself.

“You made those designs?” You ask surprised. Eddie nods with pride.

“Yep, when Hellfire was founded in ‘82. We scrounged up enough money to go to a print shop and have these bad boys made at the beginning of the school year. Wasn’t cheap, so we’ve always tried to be extra careful with them.”

“Awe, that’s so cute,” you giggle.

The table erupts in a defensive roar about how it is apparently not cute that their club has tee shirts that they take very good care of. No one was convincing you otherwise. 

You blew them off and distracted them by having them give Eddie their pumpkins. They all watched with amusement as Eddie reached down into each pumpkin and pulled the slimy, seedy guts out of them. Eddie’s button nose scrunched up with disgust, contrasted by the wide grin that touched his eyes. His tongue poked out in concentration as he swirled around the inside of the pumpkin, plopping the guts into bowls and pots with each one.

By the time he had gutted each pumpkin of their contents, Eddie looked like he was done for the rest of the night. 

“Eddie, do you want to save your pumpkin for another night?” You ask quietly, leaning in so only he could hear. He looks at you, brown orbs darting back and forth between your eyes carefully before smiling at you.

“Yeah, please?”

“Of course.”

“See, I told you that Will was going to win!” Gareth shouted, his hands falling at his side with a huff as the rest of the group laughed at his bitching.

“I’m sorry, it’s really good! That’s the most detailed pumpkin carving of a vampire’s face I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” Will said bashfully. 

“Gareth, I don’t know why you’re bitching. Your jack-o-lanturn’s eyes aren’t even the same size.” Eddie razzed, goading Gareth until he flipped him off.

“Awe, I thought the mismatched eyes were cute,” you said teasingly, and Gareth froze, turning away from your eyes to stand by Will, who gave him a pat on the back.

As you all stood around admiring the hard work of everyone’s carved pumpkins, the sound of loud music playing grabbed all of your attention. It progressively got louder, sounding like it was coming from down the driveway.

“What the hell?” Jeff said with a tilt of his head.

Everyone seemed more confused than anything, but you clocked the look on Eddie’s face as he looked between the trees of the winding driveway. There was a fear there that you’d only seen in his face during his night terrors, and everything in your body was telling you that you needed to get him and everyone else inside.

“Come on guys, lets go—”

The loud revving of the engine drowned out the sound of whatever song the driver was playing. The car came over the bump at an alarming pace before slamming on its breaks once it got up to the clearing. Headlights blinded all of you, and your body moved on its own accord to stand directly in front of Eddie.

The engine cut off abruptly, the lights dimming enough to reveal fire engine red sports car with a black stripe down the middle. You could barely see the fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror through the heavily tinted windows.

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie say behind you. The fear had left his features, replaced with an elated shock that left you wanting to ask several questions. But before you could question him, Eddie maneuvered around you and the rest of the guys heading straight toward the mysterious car.

Just as Eddie approached the car, the driver side door swung open. A man  only a few years older than you with blond, spiked hair stepped out. The man had to be at least 6’5, his face covered in piercings and he had an over all aura of trouble.

“How the hell did he get this address?” You hear Jeff question Grant and Gareth.

“Rick!” Eddie shouts excitedly.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Rick says, pushing up his sunglasses and slamming his car door shut. He runs up to Eddie and embraces him tightly, bending down to be at his level. Rick pulled back, looking Eddie up and down before bringing his hand down on his shoulder a few times.

“Damn, that dude really did a number on you, huh?”

Eddie visibly shrinks, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Who the hell is that?” You ask Jeff quietly, taking a few steps back to be standing next to him.

“That’s Reefer Rick,” he says with an annoyed tone. “He’s Eddie’s friend. Got Eddie into dealing in school.” Your neck almost breaks with how quickly you look at Jeff.

“Dealing? Like, drug dealing?”

Jeff looks at you and nods. “Uh, yeah? You didn’t know about that?”

“Um, no. I didn’t.” 

“It was just weed,” Jeff as an attempt to save face, “Aaaaaand sometimes random pills that Rick would give him to sell. But nothing serious.”

“Oh, okay. Just weed and pills. Which are both totally illegal to sell but it’s cool right?” Your blood was starting to boil with this new information. You don’t know why you’re even upset, it’s not like you really cared if people smoked weed or whatever.

Really it’s the idea of Eddie getting in trouble after everything he’s been through. Drug dealers are notorious for being sneaky and conniving, right? What if this guy thinks Eddie got money in the settlement and is here looking for a handout.

“Hi," you say in a clipped tone to the man as you approach him and Eddie. You give him just your first name, extending a hand out to him with faux pleasantry as you settle next to Eddie in his chair. “Who are you?”

“Oh, hey, this is Rick,” Eddie says to you with excitement. “Rick, this is my…caregiver.”

Rick takes your hand, looking you up and down before giving you a loose handshake. “Well, hello nurse,” Rick smiles, maintains eye contact with you as he continues to hold your hand.. 

After a beat Eddie clears his throat, and Rick retracts his hand from yours. You don’t miss the subtle shift in Eddie’s chair, making him close enough you can feel his arm against yours. You took the hint, and stepped back until you were behind his chair. Rick laughed lowly before looking back to Eddie. 

“Well, I’m glad you have someone who can take care of you,” Rick says with a cheshire smile. “Especially since I’m sure Wayne is back at work. Must be expensive to live all the way out here.”

“Eh, we had it built out here as part of the settlement, so it’s paid for. He still has to pay the bills, though.” Eddie’s voice trails off at the end. “Wish I could do something to help…”

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya,” Rick says as he scans the land, nodding his head to the guys as he does. “I’m sure you’re not interested in getting back into the business with me given…well, everything.”

“Ah, yeah…I owe you an apology…” Eddie looks up to Rick with a guilty expression.

“For what? Oh, you mean my house?” Eddie nods and Rick waves him off. “Nah, don’t sweat it man. I took everything with me when I went to Vegas so if anyone went in there snooping they wouldn’t have found anything anyway. It looked like they had sent someone in to clean though. Looked nicer than the day my parents—I mean, the day I bought it.” Eddie nods, letting out a breath that he was holding as Rick talked.

“Well that’s nice that your house that you bought is all clean,” you say, grabbing onto the handles of Eddie’s wheelchair, “And since he’s isn’t interested in your business endeavors, I guess that means you don’t need anything from Eddie then, right?”

Rick looks down at Eddie, then back up to you with a curious look. His tongue rings peaks out from between his lips as he plays with it, before popping it back in his mouth to speak. 

“Well, I was just coming out here to see a dear old friend of mine. But, there is one thing that I want to speak with him about. In private.” He leans down to eye level, eyes squinting with how tightly he smiles at you.

You open your mouth to protest immediately, but you feel Eddie push against the wheels, his chair moving away from you as he motioned Rick to follow him. 

“Give us just a second.”

You stand in the same spot, speechless as they move far enough away that you can’t hear the conversation between them. A hand on your shoulder pulls your attention, and Dustin motions you back over to where the guys are huddled together.

“He’s an idiot,” Grant whisper yells into the huddle.

“Yeah, but he’s obviously lost his best salesmen for the high school territory,” Mike argues. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he was asking if one of us would want to start dealing for him.”

“He better not. You guys better not,” you say with a pointed finger at the boys who were still in high school.

“Trust us, we won’t,” Dustin said with a firm tone.

“Well, whatever he wants, it’s probably not good.”

“Well…”

“Jeff, no.”

“Hey, he’s the whole reason Eddie even stayed in high school. He probably would have dropped out if Rick hadn’t convinced him to keep trying.”

“He only wanted Eddie to keep trying so he could keep selling drugs to high schoolers!”

“That’s a pretty good point.”

“What’s a good point?”

All heads turned to Eddie, who was just behind you with an amused smile on his face. Rick wasn’t with him, still standing back by his car with a lit cigarette in his hand, eyes watching you carefully.

“Oh, we were just…”

“We were saying that you two should decorate her car for the Trunk r Treat festival. And the point was…that you could wear a mask and no one would know it was you?”

Everyone looks at Dustin like he has two heads. Where he even came up with that…you had no idea.

Eddie’s curls bounce as he shakes his head. “What? Trunk r Treat? What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, the Trunk r Treat is what the town is doing instead of regular trick r treating since the roads are still pretty messed up. Everyone is gonna pull their cars into the fairgrounds and let the kids trick r treat there.”

“That sounds like fun,” you say, looking at Eddie with a hopeful smile. “It would be nice to get out of the house for a little bit. You said Halloween is your favorite holiday, right? I think it would be fun!”

“You guys are serious, aren’t you?” The mood shifts when Eddie speaks. “You seriously think it would be a good idea for me to go out into public? On Halloween night?”

“That’s why I said you could wear a mask!” Dustin seems to be the only one who isn’t affected by Eddie’s tone. “And no one knows you’re missing part of your leg. It would be perfect.” Dustin gestures to you, “And you’ll have your guardian angel with you. If anyone does give you shit she can pack you up in the car real quick and you can say ‘I told you so’ to us at the next Hellfire meeting.’”

Eddie’s jaw rolls in frustration, a heavy sigh leaving him as he leans forward in his chair.

“Hopper will be there,” Will chimes in. “Him and my mom are going to decorate the back of his old police cruiser. I-I could tell him you’re going and I’m sure he’d keep an eye out on you.” The boys look from Will to Eddie as they wait for his response. 

“I…I…Let—let me think about it. Okay? No promises.”

The boys all perk up at Eddie’s potential compliance. Chatter about costumes and getting together at Mike’s parents house has everyone forgetting about the concerns of Rick’s arrival.

You remember though. You hear Rick laugh to himself from where he’s leaning against his car. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he flicks his cigarette away and opens the door. Stopping about halfway in, he looks at Eddie then to you. He sends you a wink, then gets in without another word.

After about a week of convincing from all the Hellfire boys, you, and even Wayne, Eddie finally caved in and agreed to go to the Hawkins Trunk r Treat. Wayne talked with Hopper about trying to get your cars parked next to each other during the whole event just in case. And Wayne also promised that him and his friend Ben would stay close by in town if anything happened. Eddie didn’t really have much of a reason to say no.

You on the other hand had to come up with an excuse as to why you wouldn’t be spending Halloween with your best friend.

“We ALWAYS have movie night! You can’t just call in sick or something?” Tonya pleads with you as the two of you split each others Chinese take out. You shrug your shoulders, the feeling of guilt creeping up like bile in your throat. 

“I’m sorry Tonnie, I can’t. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t made plans with Charles for the night.”

“He probably would have asked but he knows that we always spend Halloween together.”

“I’m sorry, Tonya, but we’re big girls now. Sometimes things need to change…”

Her lower lip pouts at you, and you can tell by the way her eyes are glassy that she’s genuinely upset. If it were anyone else, you would be spending time with her in a heart beat. Ever since the two of you became friends, Halloween has been your thing. 

You’d always been scared of the holiday after when happened with your parents, but over the years Tonya has been able to slowly tear down your fears and make the holiday enjoyable again. Now that you’ve gotten the chance to potentially to the same with Eddie and his fear of going in public again, you feel obligated to follow in her image. 

“I’m really proud of you, you know?” She miles as you as she dabs the wetness from her eyes. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed. Your parents, your grandparents…they’d be really happy to see you working so hard. With school, work, and still helping me out here…Oh, come here!”

She stands from her seat and rushed to hug you, which you return with equal adoration. For a split moment you want to tell her everything. About Eddie and everything he’s been through. About how you’re starting to prefer being at the Munson house over anywhere else. About how if anyone has come out of their shell, it’ Eddie. About how you’re not really sure about Sam, and how you don’t want to admit that there might be a reason why you’re feeling that way…

“Weren’t kiddin’ about your trunk being big, huh?” Eddie and Wayne peer into the trunk of your car as you pop it open. “I’m sure you won’t have any issue gettin’ it in and outta here. Want me t’help ya get in, son?”

“Can I try first?”

Wayne nods and Eddie maneuvers himself to the passenger side of your car. You’re already standing there waiting with the door open for him, holding it in place. 

The Trunk r Treat was this coming weekend and the Hellfire boys were going to help decorate your trunk before Friday’s game. All you and Eddie had to do was get the materials and the candy. You saw Wayne hand Eddie some cash thinking that you weren’t looking, but you had no intention of letting Eddie pay for anything. This was for him, so why stress him out when you know that money is a touchy subject for him?

Eddie gets his chair in position and locks the wheels. Grabbing the “oh shit” handle and the side of the door, he lifts himself up from his chair and pauses for a moment. His face is scrunched up from pain after already having physical therapy this morning. It was hard not to get him to over do it now that his mobility has started to improve, but you would rather him learn his limits than go back to being bedridden.

A few deep breaths and a quick shift of his foot puts his ass on the edge of the seat of your car. There’s a loud thump where his head bumps the low slope of your cars door, but he just rolls his eyes and laughs it off, much to your joy. You think about how two months ago when you started caring for him that he probably would have thrown a fit and fell in it if he were to go through this exact scenario now.

“Good job, Eddie,” you praise. He looks away from you bashfully, muttering a small thanks under his breath. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you know deep down Eddie likes to be told he’s doing good. You’ve noticed it in the ways he reacts to you commenting on all of his achievements; the coy smiles and the way he starts to fidget with his rings when you sing his praises. 

Wayne grabs Eddie’s chair and puts it in the trunk. “You gonna be able to get this thing out when ya get there?” 

“Yep! I’m used to lugging wheelchairs around by now. No biggie!”

Wayne nods and rounds the car to Eddie’s side. As the two men talk, you hop into the passenger seat and start the car.

“Now don’t go and give her any trouble, Eds.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “If anything she’s gonna give me trouble. I just know she’s gonna be having me dress up in every costume they have there.”

“That’s not true,” you say defensively. “I actually already know what I want you to go as, so if you don’t fight me on it then you’ll only have to try one costume on.”

“Why does that not make me feel any better?”

Wayne barks out a laugh before closing the car door. He waves the two of you off as you make your way down the driveway until he’s no longer in site.

“Okay, let me make sure I’m understanding you right.” Eddie holds up the large, white, round costume that you handed to him, eyeing it skeptically. “You want me to dress up as…an egg?”

You laugh through your nose involuntarily, trying and failing to keep your composure. In your hand you hold what can only be describe as a “sexy devil” costume that consists of a short red dress, a pair of devil horns, and devil’s spear.

“Yeah, and I’ll be the devil, see? We’d—” you snort again, “We’d be deviled eggs!”

A smile cracks on Eddie’s face, more amused at your inability to contain your own laughter rather than at your poor excuse for a Halloween costume idea. He give you a half serious look as he hands you back the egg costume without another comment.

“Awe, come on,” you say as you take the costume from him, “you have to at least admit it was funny.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What’s the real idea that you have?”

You swap the costumes out from the rack for the ones you really wanted to do. Handing Eddie the long nightgown, you hold up what would be your costume; a long red cape and a plaid blue dress with a ruffle under the skirt. 

“Okay, so obviously that’s red riding hood,” Eddie says pointing to your outfit. “But what exactly is—” You hand him a wolf mask, which he takes from you and examines carefully.

“You’ll be the Big Bad Wolf, disguised as the grandmother,” you explain after a long moment of silence.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he sasses. He takes a few more moments to think it over, and you watch the way he looks at your costume, then to you. There’s a shift in his demeanor that you can’t quite interpret, and before you can think too much into it he finally speaks.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” he says, placing the costume pieces in his lap. “Better than the deviled egg idea.”

“Well, maybe next year I can sway you into the deviled egg. But I guess this works, too.” Eddie straightens in his chair, and you swear you could see a small blush on his cheeks. 

After you gathered everything for your costumes, you and Eddie did a little more shopping around for some stuff to decorate your trunk with. Streamers, hanging bats, fake spider webs, and enough candy to feed a small village fill your arms and Eddie’s lap all the way to the check out counter.

As the girl behind the counter rings out your items, you notice she keeps taking glances at Eddie. He’s too busy looking at the check out candle to notice, but you keep an eye on her just in case.

“Is that all for you?” She asks with a pop of her gum. You nod and she give you your total. As you reach for your wallet in your purse, Eddie shift in his chair, pulling out his own wallet.

“I got it,” he says, taking a $20 bill from the billfold.

“Nope,” you say, pulling out your own money and handing it to the cashier.

“No, please. I want to pay--”

“It’s okay, Eddie. Save it and buy us a pizza or something sometime when I don’t feel like cooking your dinner.”

The girl behind the counter’s gum popped loudly as she held your change in her hand. Eddie shrank back in his chair, stuffing the $20 back into his wallet. You took your bags from the counter and plopped them in Eddie’s lap, much to his surprise.

“Here, if you want to help, you can carry these.”

As you push his him out of the shop, Eddie asks you to stop before going off the curb.

“What’s up?”

“Can we go into the Goodwill over there?” He nods down the strip of stores where the sign to the second hand shop is displayed in the window.

“Sure,” you say without a second thought, “Lets put these bags in my car and then we can go in there.”

The store is a little busier than you expected. Everyone from kids to adults were checking out the shelves for their last minute home made costumes and accessories to wear this weekend. It made you happy to see so many people excited about the event.

The boys told you that Halloween can be a big deal in Hawkins. But after the earthquake, those who still remained wondered if there would even be a Halloween this year. Apparently the mother of one of their friends, Lucas, joined the city counsel and pitched the idea in a city meeting and most everyone was on board.

“The only person who protested was Mary Cunningham,” Dustin told you in a hushed tone. “She said it wasn’t safe to have all of the towns kids in one spot for ‘easy pickings.’” Mary Cunningham was the mother of Chrissy Cunningham, the girl that was murdered by Victor Creel in Eddie’s trailer before he attempted to kill Eddie himself. Wayne never told you this, but, according to the boys, Mary Cunningham is still convinced Eddie was the one who tried to kill Eddie, despite the evidence that supports that it was Creel. You hoped that she wouldn’t show up to the event this weekend.

“No way!” Eddie pulls a tee shirt from one of the racks. You’re standing next to his chair rather than behind it to make room for people to go around you in the tight, over stuffed isles. You turn your body, hand on his shoulder as you try to let a lady and he kid move behind you.

“What is it?”

“It’s a Black Sabbath tour shirt! This one’s from a tour they did in the 70’s though. Like a tour they did in Europe. I wonder how it ended up in this dump of a Goodwill?”

“Sounds like it ended up here so that you could buy it.”

Eddie looked at the shirt solemnly. Most of his attire that he had consisted of plain tee shirts and pajama pants that had come from packs at the store. All of his clothes and other personal belongings had been swallowed up by the earthquake and destroyed. 

“Well…” he said after a few moments, “It is only 50 cents…”

“Perfect!” You pluck the shirt from his hands and fold it over your arm. “Keep looking. Maybe someone’s metal loving uncle passed away and his family brought his clothes here. I’m gonna go look at some pants for you.”

“There’s that beautiful smile that I love to see,” Sam says as you push the door of his office open. You gave him a small smile, setting his coffee down on his desk. He stood up, rounding the desk to embrace you in a tight hug, his lips meeting the top of your head to leave a kiss there. 

“Morning,” you say, taking a step back from him when he loosens his grip. “Sorry I couldn’t bring you one of these before today. Hopefully you made it through the week without.”

“Barely,” he said with a sarcastic huff. “Have to admit I missed seeing you more, though. Been busy with midterms?”

You give him an exhausted nod. Between getting everything together for this weekend, helping Tonya deep clean the house before her trip with Charles, and dealing with your midterms, you’d been properly worn down to a barely functioning human.

“Awe, poor thing,” Sam cooes at you, his hand cupping your face to rub his thumb against your cheek. “Sounds like you deserve a little fun weekend. My buddy is having a get together at his house weekend and I’d really love for you to come.”

“This weekend?” You ask. Sam nods. “Oh, no I-I can’t. It’s Halloween weekend and…I spend it with Tonya every year. It’s been our tradition since we were kids. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been wanting to meet her and this Charles guy you hate so much. We can do a double date. Maybe some haunted houses or something?”

“No! No—I, um, I don’t do haunted houses.” That wasn’t a lie.

“That’s fine, maybe a movie at the drive in?”

“Sam, I’m sorry. It’s not exactly a tradition where we let other people take part in. Charles wont be there either.”

Sam’s shoulders slump as he sighs, his lips tightening into a straight line. 

“Okay, I get it. I’m not going to step on any toes. But…” Sam looks up at you through his lashes, “make it up to me next weekend?”

You breathe in, then out. It suddenly hits you that…you don’t really want to make it up to him net weekend.

“Sure.”

The Munson household is a busy one this cool, autumn Saturday. Eddie and the guys are in his room getting ready for the night. Their collective laughter and talking over each other is the only thing louder than the volume of the music that they have blaring. Even with the door closed you find it hard to think over the noise.

Wayne and Ben are in the kitchen prepping dinner for everyone before the nights festivities. They were joined by the infamous Hopper and Joyce Byers who brought the food by when they dropped off Will and Jane. The same Jane who was occupying the hall bathroom with you right now.

“They were trying to get you to dress up as one of the guys from Devo?”

Jane nods with an annoyed look. “Yes. They wanted me to wear a stupid red hat. I told them no, and said I wanted to go as Pat Benatar instead. She is my favorite singer.”

“Great choice,” your head bobs in agreement. You take a little more of the blue eye shadow on the tip of your finger and smudge it over her eyelids. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Heartbreaker,” she whispers shyly with a smile. 

“That’s a good one! I think We Belong is mine.”

“That one is a good song, too. It’s a love song.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say I’m a sucker for a good love ballad,” you shrug, washing your hands of the make up that stained your fingers. “Now, where is the wig you said you got?”

Jane helped you zip up the back of your dress just as there was a knock on the bathroom door. You pulled the red cloak over your shoulders as she opened it, her dad standing just on the other side of the doorway.

“Jesus, kid, is that enough make up?” He says, his voice raising a distraught octave. 

“Oh, look at you!” Joyce pushes past the disgruntled Hopper and into the bathroom. She looks Jane up and down, her excitement a clear contrast to Hoppers. 

“You look just like her in those pictures! I’m glad we were able to find this fabric to make this jumper.”

“Joyce, she looks like a—“

“Woah, Pat Benatar!”

Will and Gareth poke their heads around the corner of the door frame, both of them dressed like characters from Star Wars whose names you can’t quite remember. 

“Oh, you boys look adorable!” Joyce squeezes Will's cheeks, much to his dismay. Gareth lets out a snicker at will’s expense, only stopping once he’s caught your eye. Then, like usual, he slinks back out of sight. 

In his place Mike and Dustin pop up. Dustin is dressed like Darth Vader, his helmet in his hand as they barge into the bathroom. “Are you two ladies ready to go yet?”

“I think so,” you say, quickly clearing up the mess that you’ve made in the Munson bathroom. 

“Wow, El, you look badass!” Mike says, putting an arm around her for a side hug. 

“Thank you, Mike. She helped.” Jane says, pointing in your direction. 

“Oooh, I get it,” Dustin suddenly says as if he’s had an epiphany, eyes narrowing as he looks you up and down. 

“Get what?”

“Your’s and Eddie’s couple’s costumes.”

The eye shadow pallet drops from your hands with a loud clutter. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about?’ You and Eddie are going as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, right?” 

“Well, yeah, but…”

“That’s, like, a classic couples costume!” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Joyce says, her hand on her heart as she looks up at Hopper. “Didn’t you and Margaret Sanders go as the wolf and Red Riding Hood to John Collins’ Halloween party one year?”

Jim nods with a big, mustached grin. “Yep.” 

“I feel like an asshole.”

Eddie’s voice in the hallway catches your attention. Jim moves out of view, making room for Eddie’s chair as Jeff and Grant follow behind him. 

“You sound like one, too,” Jeff laughs from behind him. 

Eddie was being his normal grumpy self today. Enough that you were worried that he might call the whole thing off and not go. But, he seemed to manage to push through. Although you worried that the amount of people occupying his house was stressing him out a bit. 

As Jeff pushed him past the door, Eddie turned to look inside the overcrowded bathroom. Even with all of the bodies in the way, his eyes were on you in an instant. He didn’t say anything, more so looking at you like a deer caught in headlights until he was completely out of view. 

“Foods ready!” Ben calls from the kitchen. Doesn’t take much more convincing than that for everyone to file out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. You take the opportunity to finish putting everything away before joining in the chaos. 

Loud chattering fills the kitchen as everyone moves around the table to get their food. When you do come out of the bathroom, you see someone’s already put Eddie in the recliner, his tv tray set up in front of him as he patiently waited for everyone to finish getting their plates. 

“Hey stranger,” you say, stealing his attention from whatever daydream he was having.

“Hey,” he said with a tight smile. You eyed him suspiciously. 

“What hurts?”

He’s still for a moment, before he sighs and gives you a more genuine smile. 

“I’m just having those ghost pains or whatever.” His hand rubs over the clothed end of his thigh where his leg was severed.

Ever since he started physical therapy two weeks ago he’s been complaining of pains in his leg where it's not there anymore. You asked your professor about it, and she said it's not uncommon for amputees to have phantom pains. There’s not much you can do about it other than try to distract the person having them. 

“I see. Well, maybe eating something might help. Is anyone getting you a plate?”

Eddie shook his head with a shit eating grin. “I told them that you’d wanna do it.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right.

There was still a weird feeling that resided in you about being there for anything other than being Eddie’s caretaker. Even after two months of Wayne’s warm hospitality, a month of being taken in by the Hellfire boys, and being treated as if you’ve always been around by Joyce and Hopper, you still felt like an outsider looking in.

People on foot walked by as the cars loaded in through the entry gate of the Hawkins fairgrounds. You were sure that just about everyone in this town was showing up tonight. It made you buzz with excitement to see all the costumes and decked out cars. 

“Excited?” Eddie asks you, his eyes darting around at the crowds. There was an indecipherable tone to his voice. 

“Of course,” you say, the car moving up a bit to keep up with Hopper's cruiser in line. “Are you?”

“Is Eddie excited about Halloween?” Dustin’s head pops between yours and Eddie’s from the back seat. He slaps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and gives him a little shake. “Eddie is probably the biggest fan of Halloween I know. He made a whole one shot campaign based on our party trying to escape from Michael Meyers.”

“What? No way, that sounds awesome. Halloween is probably my favorite Halloween movie.”

“It is a classic,” Eddie says with a grin. “Although, I will say that Friday the Thirteenth did freak me out for a while after I saw it for the first time. Still can’t believe that it was his mom the whole time—”

“His mom the whole time?” The two of you say it in unison. You look at each other for a moment before laughing. Dustin makes an audible gagging sound from the back seat and Eddie wastes no time reaching back to swat at him. You shush the both of them as Hopper pulls ahead, making your car next in line.

“Hi, folks,” the older gentleman says, shining a flashlight into the car and almost blinding you. “Hop took care of your cover charge and told me to make sure you guys get the spot next to him.” The man hands you a paper with the number 66 printed on it. It looks like it’s cut in a way that lets it hang from your rear view mirror, most likely to keep track of the amount of cars coming in to participate in the event.

As the man gives you instructions on how to find your spot inside, you cant help but you notice the subtle way he glances to Eddie in the passenger seat. You’re not sure if the man recognizes Eddie or if he’s trying to, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out. Eddie slips on his wolf mask once you take off inside of the fair grounds. 

It doesn’t take you long to find your spot. The Hopper-Byers group is all helping out to set everything up for Joyce and Hopper to pass out candy. The back of the cruiser is set up to look like a tent, with a fake fire, a stuffed bear, and a blue blanket meant to be a lake side view. 

Dustin pulls Eddie’s chair out from the back seat of your car, helping him out as you pop open your trunk. The effort they put into their theme almost makes you feel self conscious of your trunk, the ‘theme’ looking more like a Halloween store exploded rather than anything cohesive. But then you remember it was put together by Eddie and his friends, and you decide you love it just the way it is.

 “All right!” Joyce calls out once your cars are all set up. She sets a plastic bowl in Eddie’s lap and starts pouring candy into it. “Let’s get this party started!”

“Joyce don’t start getting to crazy before the kids get here,” Hops says teasingly as he pulls on his trapper hat. To go with their theme Hop and Joyce are dressed up like campers, which, in hind site, was probably a good call considering how cold the nights have been getting in Hawkins. You were already starting to regret your costume choice as the breeze hit your legs where your dress didn’t cover.

“Isn’t that the point?” Jane asks. “Is she not supposed to scare the kids?”

“Not enough that they wont come around to get candy,” Will retorts.

He’s half paying attention to the conversation as he looks around. Suddenly his hand shoots up, waving and shouting to the Hellfire guys as they walk through the cars. They all gather together and migrate to stand around Eddie, bags and pillowcases out towards him.

“Trick r treat!” They say in a sing song unison, laughter breaking out among them. Eddie’s head drops in the mask, his body shaking as he joins in with the guffaws of his friends.

As you watch them interact, you wonder what faces Eddie is making under the mask. Recently, you’ve felt like you’ve been able to see the real Eddie slip through the cracks. By now you can tell when one of his smiles is fake or genuine, as well as when his anger is real or just out of pain. But, with the plastic mask to hide behind, will he still feel the need to keep himself so reserved tonight?

It didn’t take long for the night to get going. Spirits were high as children, teens, and adults all made their ways between the cars to fill their bags with candy and other goodies being passed around. 

You could admit you were a little nervous when Joyce gave the bowl of candy to Eddie earlier. But, either no one could tell it was him under the wolf mask, or no one cared enough to say anything.

Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself, too. After a while he started to compliment the different costumes in a scary wolf voice, which the kids that came by loved. He even went out of the way to put candy into the trick r treater’s bags, not caring about the scars on his hands being seen.

“Gonna need another refill,” he says to you as the last group of kids move on down the line.

“Roger that,” you say, jumping up to grab another bag of candy from your trunk, pushing the fake spider webs to the side. 

Some of the bags slid to the back, so you have to really reach in to get your hands on it. Just as you get a grip on the plastic bag, you feel something pulling on the skirt of your dress. You pinch the plastic of the bag, dragging it out with you as you stand up straight. 

Looking over your shoulder, you see that Eddie’s hand is holding on to the hem, pulling it taut over your ass. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when the chuckling from a group of passing boys reaches your ears.

“Thanks,” you say to Eddie, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. His mask looks up at you, and his hand quickly retracts from where it was holding on to you. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” he says, voice muffled by the mask.

As you pour more candy into his bowl, a group of three young girls approaches Eddie.

“Trick r treat,” the girls say, holding their bags out for Eddie.

Eddie is still for a moment, grabbing the candy wordlessly and placing it into the girls candy bags. When he gets to the last girl, he hesitates before letting the candy drop inside.

“Where’s your brother, Lady Applejack?” Eddie suddenly says, still using his wolf voice.

The girl's eyes go wide, shifting between her two confused friends before nodding to the side. The two girls move on to Joyce and Hoppers truck, leaving Lady Applejack behind.

“Munson?” She whispers with bemusement. “Is that you under that creepy mask?”

“The one and only,” he says, his hands gesturing wildly to himself.

The girl looks up and down at you, then back to Eddie. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

You shuffle in your spot awkwardly. You’d gone the whole night with no one saying anything besides Dustin, and you were hoping that it would stay that way.

“We’re not dating,” Eddie says neutrally. “She’s my caregiver.”

“Caregiver? Is that not the same thing as a girlfriend?”

“Basically.” The words spill out of you like vomit. “It’s all the non fun parts of being a girlfriend without any of the perks.” The girl laughs, but Eddie remains still.

“I like her, Munson. You should keep her around.”

“You know, you never answered my question,” Eddie says, clearly desperate to change the subject.

“Huh? Oh, you mean about Lucas?”

Lucas. That was the friend that the boys bring up a lot. He’s a member of Hellfire but hasn’t been to any of the meetings.

“He’s probably still at the hospital with Max. Our parents tried to get him to come out tonight since my mom was the one who put this whole thing together. But…” The girl trails off, looking down at the ground as her attitude fades away. “You know, he still feels guilty. About…what happened.”

Eddie nods slowly. Max was another victim who got out alive like Eddie, but she’s been in a coma since March. Eddie doesn’t talk about her, even if the boys bring her up when talking about Lucas. 

“Erica, come on!” One of the girls friend’s call, motioning her to join them.

Erica shifts back into her previous demeanor, looking at you and Eddie once again. “I gotta go. Nice seeing you, Munson and Munson’s girlfriend.” Before Eddie could correct her, she was taking off with her friends.

“Sorry,” Eddie says to you, but refusing to look your way.

“It’s fine. If anything I should be apologizing.” You plop back down in your folding chair with a huff. “Dustin said something earlier about our costumes being a couple’s costume and I’ve been cursing myself for over looking that.” 

“Dustin would say something like that,” Eddie grumbles under his breath.

“They’re over here!” Dustin’s voice calls out from a few yards away, his Vader mask in his hand as he motions two people behind him. A guy and a girl dressed as Wham! follow an excited Dustin to your car. 

“Speak of the devil,” Eddie says, slumping down in his chair. “And he’s brought his mommy.” You look at Eddie confused. The pair were definitely not old enough to be Dustin’s parents, maybe older siblings at best.

“Dustin, are you sure we’re at the right car?” The girl asks, shooting you a nervous smile.

“Yes, this is the right car. I literally came here in it,” Dustin shook his head and reached into his bag. After fumbling around a bit, he pulled out a full size milky way and presented it to Eddie. 

“Snagged this for ya from the Martin’s car,” he said with a toothy grin. Eddie grabbed the candy and examined it and you could feel the smile he had from under his mask. 

“Good work, Henderson,” Eddie says, looking up at the boy. Dustin salutes him before standing to the side, looking at the couple behind him with an I told you so expression.

“Holy shit,” the guy says, his law slack.

“Is that really you, M—” The girl cuts herself off before she can finish. The two move closer to Eddie, speaking in hushed tones.

“How’re you doing? Dustin told us that him and Mike have been over to your new place,” the girl asks. You don’t know why, but the way her hand rests on his shoulder irritates you.

“Yeah, he told us the lab set you up with a really nice house. Still not enough after what we all went through in my opinion..”

“Steve,” the girl cuts him off sharply. 

“What? We haven’t seen the guy in six months! Am I not supposed to talk about it?”

“It’s fine, Robin,” Eddie says.

“It’s not fine,” you interject. All eyes are on you now, stunned as if they just noticed you were there.

“S-sorry, we didn’t mean to leave you out,” the girl stutters.

“Yeah, uh…” Steve looks you up and down before straightening his posture. “You must be the caretaker that Dustin’s told us about. Name’s Steve. Steve Harrington.” 

Steve Harrington stands in front of you, offering his hand for you to shake. You take his hand and introduce yourself. Steve Harrington is handsome in a similar way to Sam you think. 

The feeling of eyes on you makes you turn your head. The light catches just right you can sort of make out Eddie’s eyes through the holes of the mask.

“What did you say?” You ask, looking back up to Steve after zoning his question out.

“I just asked if you were free sometime. Maybe we could get a bite to eat before you go over to Eddie’s some time?”

“Oh, sorry,” the words poured out of you again. “But I’m seeing someone.”

You’re not sure if it’s just you, but it suddenly felt like the air got thicker. You could feel Eddie’s eyes bore holes into you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Shit, my bad,” Steve says, taking a step back. “I thought Dustin said you two weren’t together.”

“We’re not,” Eddie says in a clipped tone.

“Yeah, we’re not, Eddie and I. I’m, uh, I’m seeing a guy from my school. Sam…”

“Ohhhh, okay,” Steve nods, “Gotcha. Well, if things don’t work out—OW!”

“Take a hint, dingus!” Robin whisper yells at Steve. She looks back to Eddie with an apologetic look. “We should probably go, but call one of us some time and we’ll sneak some movies to you, okay?”

Eddie wordlessly nods, his focus on the bowl of candy in his lap now. Steve and Robin give their goodbyes and move along, bickering between themselves as they go. Dustin lingers with you and Eddie for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Do, uh…"Dustin clears his throat, attempting to lighten the mood. "Do you guys want to go check out the fair at all?” Dustin points with his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s some pretty cool stuff at the back. A haunted house, some games…you know, fun stuff. I’ll, uh, sit and watch the candy.”

You look over to Eddie waiting for his response. After several moments Eddie finally nods, lifting the plastic bowl and handing it to Dustin. You rise from your seat, moving out of the way so Dustin to take your spot.

When you turn to see if Eddie is ready to go, you find that he’s not there. Instant panic sets in, as you look out to the crowd to find him. For a split second, you can see the furry hair on the back of his mask a few cars away. Bobbing and weaving through the clusters of people, you grab the handles of his chair and stop him, making him jerk forward.

He looks back, body tense until he realizes it’s you, his shoulders slumping forward.

“Where did you think you were going?” Anger evident in your tone.

“What do you mean? I thought you were right behind me.” The cutting tone of his voice hits a nerve.

“Eddie, I…” You can feel a whole lecture on the tip of your tongue. But the more you think about it, the more you realize that Eddie is his own person. As much as you’ve grown to want to protect him, he probably knows more about these fairgrounds and all of these people than you’ll ever know. He was a fully functioning person seven months ago, not needing anyone’s assistance just to get through a crowd of people. 

“Do…do you want me to leave you alone?”

The two of you stand in the middle of the moving bodies without a word. It feels like the two of you are in slow motion as people move past you.

Eddie sits up, shaking his head. “No.”

That’s all you needed to hear. Grabbing onto the handles of his chair, you push him through the crowd at a leisurely pace. It takes a few minutes for hm to say something, but the paper mache ghost from Ghost Busters hanging off of a cars trunk catches his attention.

“Woah, that’s awesome!” Eddie points it out to you.

“Do you think they made that?”

“I bet they got it at a Halloween store.”

Conversation flowed like that between you as you both rated the cars out of 10 as you passed. There were more cars like yours that decorated just enough to be passable, but a good majority of the citizens of Hawkins really do mean business when it comes to Halloween. 

“They made their car look like a dragon!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder to you. “How is that not the best car?!”

“It’s totally an awesome car, but, I’m sorry, the literal hearse with a guy dressed as Dracula in a coffin was hands down the best.”

Eddie slumps back in his chair in frustration, his mask looking up at you dramatically while you push him. You smile down at him, happy to see him having so much fun. He jerks forward and clears his throat, mask moving quickly as if he’s looking for something.

“Oh, look they’re selling popcorn,” Eddie nods to a booth set up off to the side of the cars. It looks like a girl scouts group of some kind, all the girls at the booth wearing patch covered sashes over their costumes. The sign on the booth read “Twenty-five cent popcorn. Proceeds go to Hawkins Rebuild Fund.”

“Hmmm,” you hum curiously. “We should get some. I could use something salty to cleanse my palate from all the candy.”

“Yeah, I think I might puke if I even think about a Reese’s Cup right now.”

You grab a bottle of water and a bag of popcorn to split between the two of you. Not wanting to stop your perusing of the cars, you continued on with Eddie popping a piece under his mask for him and then lifting a few pieces up to your mouth for you to much on.

Continuing on, you finally reach the back end of the fairgrounds. A few fires were going with groups of people gathered around. They talked over cider or roasted marshmallows to shove between graham crackers, adding their favorite candy pieces to complete their sweet treats. 

A few games were set up. Kids and tipsy grown men bobbed for apples in a big trough of water. A partially enclosed area was set up for smaller kids and their exhausted parents to take a break away from the older kids. 

But in the very back was a make shift haunted house, it’s entrance painted to look as if you were walking into a large jack o lantern. Around it were several tarps meant to cover whatever the haunted house was put together with, various paper decorations taped to it to make it look more festive.

“We should go in there,” Eddie says excitedly. “Wonder if it’s dark enough I can take this mask off for a bit.”

“I don’t know Eddie…” you say hesitantly. You weren’t the biggest fan of haunted houses. Being scared from a movie is one thing, but the lack of control you could have in a haunted house made you uncomfortable. 

You also never knew what was going to set you off. The last haunted house you went to with Tonya and some friends in high school was set up to look like an actual house. It didn’t really bother you until one of the actors snuck up behind you, whispering in your ear. It immediately took you back to…

“Awe, come on. Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Eddie teases. “I doubt that Hawkins could make an actually scary haunted house. I bet they have one of those rooms where they make you feel peeled grapes and tell you that it’s eyeballs.”

“I’m not scared,” you say with a level tone, “I’m more worried about you. What if you have a night terror and end up needing me to sit at the end while you sleep tonight?”

Eddie freezes, his eyes wide and looking into yours through the holes in the mask. You feel like you said something wrong, but you’re not sure what.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Eddie starts to laugh, clearly trying to get a rise out of you. It both relieves and pisses you off. 

“Eddie, you’re such an asshole! I thought I hurt your feelings!”

“You did, little red,” he feigns offense, his hands resting over his heart. “I can’t believe you would make fun of me. I’m wounded. How will you ever make it up to me?”

“Oh my god,” you say with exasperation. “I’m so sorry Mr.Wolf. I guess I can be brave and take you through the haunted house if that will suffice.”

Eddie fake sniffled and nods. “Yes, I think I may be able to forgive and forget your offense if you lend me your company inside this estate.”

The two of you get in line, chatting for the few minutes it takes to get to the front. When it’s finally your turn, the lanky teen at the door looked down at Eddie. 

“Uh, be careful with your chair, man. Should be good, but, uh, there might be some bumps between the rooms. That alright?”

Eddie nods and the boy ushers the two of you inside. It looks like the haunted house might be made of several sheds or storage units placed together to make a long string of rooms. A lot of the rooms were more silly than scary, but a few people dressed in costumes were able to get some scares out of you and Eddie.

Well, you more than Eddie.

You hadn’t even realized that you were leaning so close to him. It was a reflex to bury your face against him when you got scared, laughing the whole time as you pushed on to the next room. He didn’t seem to mind, probably too busy laughing at your reactions to care. 

You wondered if the actors were talking with each other, because it felt like more people were trying to scare you the further into the haunt you went. By the end you were practically strangling Eddie, your arms wrapped around his shoulders  with your face against the back of his neck as he guided you both through the exit that exited to the other side of the fairground lot. 

“They were so mean!” The words came out in strained huffs as you tried to catch your breath, still laughing from all the nerves. Eddie probably would have been keeled over with how hard he was cackling. He lifted his mask briefly to wipe the tears from his eyes, his hair sticking to his forehead with how much he was sweating under the plastic.

“Holy shit,” he barks out. “That was sooooo worth it. I want to see how bad you get scared in a haunted house that’s actually scary.”

“I can’t believe you’d want to put me through that after everything I’ve done for you,” you say with faux offense. 

“Can’t help it,” he says with a shrug, “I guess I’m a bit of a sadist.”

“Hmmm why does that not at all surprise me.”

The rest of the night went on without a hitch. The guys showed up again eventually, making base between yours and Hopper’s car to trade candy. Jane told you that she got lots of compliments on her costume and thanked you over and over for helping her with her make up. Joyce took the opportunity to get everyone together to take pictures. Apparently Will’s older brother, Jonathan, left one of his cameras with them to take pictures while he’s off at college and Joyce took that task very seriously. 

“Let me get one with the two of you!” She says to you and Eddie. Eddie looks at you and you shrug.

“Do you want to lean on me?” You ask him.

“What do you mean?”

“So you can have a picture not in your chair. I can hold you up--oh we can make it look like you’re trying to eat me?”

Eddie stands, leaning against you as you have your arms around him in a tight hug. Joyce takes a few steps forward to get his chair out of frame, giving you both the go ahead to make a pose. Eddie lets go of you, posing with his hands as if he was about to grab you, the mouth of his mask about an inch from your face. You hold on to him with one arm, letting him lean into you as you let your other hand fly back with fake terror. 

The bright flash from the camera has you grabbing Eddie fully once again. You were able to feel his leg wobbling, still not used to holding up his whole weight. Eddie plopped back into his chair, letting out the breath he had been holding.

After a while the festivities began to wind down as cars started making their exit. When Eddie’s back started to hurt from being in his chair for so long, you decided to join the rest of the crowd and leave. Dustin helped load Eddie up in the car as you cleaned up any mess that had been made.

“Dustin, why don’t you ride with us?” Joyce calls over from their car. “Eddie’s probably tired and ready to get home. You’re staying at the Wheeler’s anyway, right?”

Dustin looks at Eddie, whose mask was up enough to let his face breathe, to you, who looked like you were ready to climb into bed and pass out. Gears turned under those tight curls. A vision of the two of you “accidentally” falling asleep in each others arms on the couch and waking up all embarrassed, until you inevitably confess your feelings for each other and get married and grow old together was clear as day in his mind. 

“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks Mrs.B.”

“Do you even want to attempt a shower?” You ask Eddie with a yawn, eyeing his devil faced pumpkin that the two of you carved that sits next to the front door.

“I feel gross after sweating in that mask,” he yawns in reaction to your yawn, fumbling to get his keys in the lock. “But, honestly, I’ll probably fall asleep sitting in there.”

Eddie pushed the door open, and wheels inside. You can barely get a foot in the front door when Eddie stops abruptly. You follow his gaze to the couch, and are surprised to see Ben leaning against Wayne. His head rests on Wayne’s shoulder, Wayne’s bald head lays against Ben’s head as the two of them snore intermittently. 

Eddie turns slowly back towards you with wide eyes. You place your finger against your lips, giving him a silent shush as you slowly maneuver his chair to his room. Eddie doesn’t say a word, even after you close the door to his room. He’s as pale as a ghost, still looking as you as if he was waiting for you do to…something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him, and he flinches. He finally blinks when he realizes that you’re not going to say anything, tension leaving his body until he’s visibly exhausted.

“Nothing, I just…ugh I really need to shower. But I’m so tired.” He sprawls out in his chair, hands running over his face and through his matter hair. The icky feeling of being outside and around people begins to make your skin crawl, too, as you feel a shower calling your name.

“Well, the longer we wait, the more tired you’re going to be. Let’s get you in there so I can go home and take one, too.” Eddie perks up, looking at you with knitted brows.

“You’re not staying the night?” 

“Well, my sleeping spot is currently being occupied,” you say with a cheeky grin, nodding toward the living room. 

Eddie presses his lips together, deep in thought as he tries to come up with an solution so you don’t have to make the 30 minute trek home.

“You could…sleep in my bed? I could sleep in Wayne’s room. If the love birds wake up, they’ll just have to deal with it.”

Thinking about sleeping in Eddie’s bed makes your chest flutter in a way that you hate. Well, rather, you want to hate it. But you really don’t. The idea of being in his bed with him penetrates your mind, and you think of anything else to push it away. Like how you’d finally told him about Sam earlier in the night. You still needed to psycho analyze his reaction to the news, which was how you usually passed the time in the car.

“I’ll think about it.” Eddie nods, accepting that as your answer for now.

You set up the shower for Eddie, hardly a word between the two of you with the combined low energy. You quietly snuck Eddie’s dirty clothes into the laundry room as he showered, taking a few minutes to pick up the kitchen in hopes to lessen the work load for Wayne tomorrow.

When you returned to the shower, Eddie had just turned off the water. He was humming a song to himself, probably to keep himself awake as he went through the motions of his shower. 

He pulled the curtain open, and slowly blinked at you. You understood his message, taking the few steps to stand beside him. You went through your drying routine, getting his back and gently squeezing and scrunching his curls in a towel to dry them. There was no way he would be able to blow dry them tonight so you just took your time getting them as dry as possible. Eddie would start to doze off until the resistance of his hair pulling would wake him again.

The two of you got into position for Eddie to stand and pivot into the chair. You held on to him, and he held onto his towel, waiting for your count to stand. A quiet one, two, three had him pushing off of the shower seat with his leg.

But he was still tired, and he began to lose his balance. One hand shot to hold your arm, and the other grabbed the bar attached to the wall. You felt his body starting to go down and reflexively turned him towards his chair. His grip on the wall threw you off, causing you to fall into him when he finally let go and landed in his chair. 

You braced yourself against the arm rests as the floor was slick under you. The top half of your body was pressed into his, mimicking the closeness of an hug. When you went to pull away, you felt his grip on your arm tighten.

“Don’t move.” He says next to your ear.

“What?”

“My towel fell.”

You snort, resting your forehead against his shoulder, wet curls pressing into your skin. “Why do you have such a hard time keeping a towel on?” 

Ever since the first shower where he almost lost his towel, at least once a week his towel seems to find its way out of Eddie’s hands and onto the floor. 

To Eddie’s defense, it was hard for him to maintain his grip, and you couldn’t hold him up and keep his towel in place, so it was something you’d become accustomed to. If he could feel his towel slipping Eddie would usually give you a heads up so you could keep your eyes above belt level.

After a beat you can feel Eddie’s smile against your cheek. “Only around you,” he says with a sarcastic tone. You suck in a breath, and hope he can’t feel the heat that rises to your cheeks at his playful comment. 

“I’m starting to think you do it on purpose.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “If you close your eyes and move, I can reach the towel myself.”

“Okay,” you say, positioning your feet so you can stand up straight.

As you move your foot back, it bumps against something and catches you off guard. Reflexively, you open your eyes to look back and move your foot accordingly. Once you find your footing again, you shift to face forward once again. But, in your sleepy haze, you forget a crucial move; closing your eyes again.

Still looking down, your eyes manage to land directly where they’re not supposed to. 

It was like a car crash. You knew you shouldn’t gawk, but the site of Eddie’s dick as it lay against his leg had you frozen in place. It was long, reaching half way down his hairy thigh, and thick. What made it worse was that he looked half hard; whether on it’s way to full mast or starting to soften you couldn’t be certain.

Suddenly you became very aware at how revealing your costume was and how close your body had just been against his. Hell, you’d been touching and leaning against each other all night. Was he like this because of you? Surely not. You scold yourself for even thinking about it.

Regaining your composure, you push away from his chair and get your footing. You snap your eyes closed so quickly, hoping that he didn’t notice that you were looking. It felt like you had been staring for an eternity, the image of it seemingly tattooed into your corneas even as your eyes were closed, but in reality it was no more than a second. 

Even if you had seen it, you’d assured him plenty of times before that it wouldn’t be the first dick you’ve ever seen and it wouldn’t be the last with the field of work you were going into. But you also respected his privacy, maybe understanding a little more as to why he didn’t want you to see. If he said anything, you wouldn't make a big deal about it.

“Okay, you’re in the clear,” he says, his voice not giving any hint to if he knows what you saw. You open your eyes as he’s backing away and back into his room to get dressed, leaving you to clean up. Which you do quietly, willing Eddie’s dick out of your mind but failing as you pick up.

By the time you joined him in his bedroom, he was still in his chair, fully dressed and his head nodding forward as he tried to fight off sleep.

“Ready to get in bed?” You ask him in a low voice so not to startle him. 

He looks up at you drowsily, “Are you gonna stay the night?” You shake your head and his pouts up at you. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I’ll be okay getting home. I’m…feeling very awake now.”

And you head plenty to think about on the drive home. It didn’t feel long enough to analyze everything, your thoughts spilling over as you stare up at your ceiling fan in bed. 

thank you for reading.

[morganbritton132]

I remember a while ago Steve wasn’t letting go of hope for his Mom showing up because he said she’s always late. Does he hit a point after that where he starts to admit maybe she isn’t coming? How does Eddie handle it?

@mcneen asked: Was there ever any further discussion between Steve and Eddie when Steve’s Mom didn’t show up, and Steve was like “oh she’s going to be late, she’s always been late”? I love love this series and check for more updates every day, thank you so much for writing it!

I’m going to kill two birds with one stone here since these two are asking for similar things

—

He always knew that she wasn’t coming.

He has known it every time he’s extended an olive branch just to watch it wilt and rot, and he knows that his friends and family think that he’s in denial about it. He knows that they have worriedly whispered conversations about him, but they don’t get it.

Yeah, it would be less heartbreaking to just give up but it wouldn’t be easier.

The Buckley’s are amazing parents that still send care packages to their daughter and call her every day for a month leading up to her birthday. Wayne took in his nephew when he didn’t have to and stood in defense of him against an entire town. Joyce – Jesus, Joyce Byers went to hell and back for her son. Hopper, Claudia, Sue, Karen… they’re all amazing parents, and you know what?

His mom was amazing once too.

And he knows. He knows. He knows. He knows how untrue that statement really is. He’s been in therapy long enough to know that he had a bad childhood and his parents were neglectful, but he cannot rectify that with the little boy inside him that loves his mom to pieces.

In the same way that he will always be sixteen years old and scared of the dead girl in his pool, he will always be small, waiting by the door for a mother that always eventually came home. Though, he knows.

He knows that seasons change and old injuries never heal quite right, and it never really mattered if his mother came home because she was always leaving but… But she was never outright cruel.

His father was a mean man that demanded perfection and belittled anything less than that. He was a unhappy man that fostered an atmosphere so hostile that his only son barely dared to breathe in his presence, and his mom. Well, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how to be a mother.

But she was there. Sometimes as the silent observer, sometimes disinterested, but always the one to say, “Enough.”

“Enough,” she said after Barb’s disappearance, after the phone call from the police, after the lecture that turned physical. She stood between them with her hand pressed against her father’s chest and said, “That’s enough. Steven, go to your room.”

“Enough,” she said after the final rejection letter, after the job at his dad’s company was rescinded, after he was told to get a job or get out. “Enough, James. What is all this yelling going to do? It will not get him into college.”

“Enough,” she said after Steve stood his ground and took back nothing when he told them that Eddie was not just a friend, that he loved him and for the first time ever, it felt like someone loved him back. After the fighting, and the yelling, and being kicked out, she finally uttered, “Enough.”

About insurance.

His father stripped him line by line of everything he has always known, but insurance was where his mother drew the line. They all new that he would never be able to afford his medication without it and, “God forbid, he have a seizure and get another kid killed, Jay.”

The last conversation Steve had with his mother was at his father’s funeral. He said she looked well given the circumstances and she said that he should really do something about all that gray hair.

So, no. He’s not expecting her to show up. He never really is, but he wants it. He wants it so bad and it all kinda comes crashing down around him one evening after Eddie casually mentions that Wayne called earlier, “He said you’re getting better at speaking on camera.”

“What?”

Eddie explains that Wayne caught Steve’s interview about his YouTube math tutorials going viral. Steve asks how a man living in Florida manages to watch a local news broadcast from Illinois, and Eddie says that he looked it up online. Steve asks, “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s proud of you,” Eddie says simply.

Something just cracks and the next thing either of them knows, Steve is crying. It’s kinda funny how wide Eddie’s eyes go, but Steve can’t even laugh about it because he feels like he’s going to drown inside himself.

It takes time and a lot of coaxing for Steve to get to a point where he tell Eddie that he’s sad. He just doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do to make her want to see him. He doesn’t know what he did that was so wrong that she can’t forgive him and why – “Why can’t she just love me?”

Eddie tells him firmly, “Stevie, baby. I want you to listen very carefully to me, okay? I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, okay?”

Steve nods.

“You did nothing wrong,” He says, and Steve just – he can’t believe it. He can’t believe that because then there’s nothing he can do to fix it and he – “Tell me this, Steve. Tell me what Erica Sinclair – Lady Applejack herself. Tell me what she has to do to make you consider cutting contact with her? What’s the least she’d have to do? Think about it an give me an answer, sweetheart.”

Steve things about it and eventually settles on, “Open the Upside Down on purpose.”

“Have you even opened a portal to a hell dimension on purpose then, babe?”

“Ed-“

“No, I want an answer,” Eddie says. “Have you ever purposely ripped a hole in the space-time continuum to an alternate reality?”

“No.”

“You ever do something worse than that?”

“I- no? Eddie-“

“Then it sounds like the problem is with your mom and not you,” He answers. “It sounds like she needs to get over her own fucking issues, and I know. I know that fucking sucks, Steve, but you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for her unwillingness to grow as a person.”

Eddie wipes the tears from his face and kiss the tip of his nose, and Steve admits, “I’m still sad.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie tells him. “That’s okay.”

Steve doesn’t know how much time lingers between them in silence, just that he’s tired the way he always is after he cries a lot. He’s about to tell him that he’s going to go to bed when Eddie states, “Joyce still lives in Hawkins, right? I’m gonna call her and see if she’ll beat your mom up.”  

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Final Part

John Price X F!Reader

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

A/N: ahhhh! here we are! the final installment to this little fic series! I hope everyone that loved and read this, also loves this lol, as always feedback is highly appreciated WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of past injuries, trauma, John being soft(i love that old man so much)

“Simon…”

Your heart was racing, it had been so long that you’d had to face him, hell you could see Johnny standing just a few feet behind him as if he was a scolded child. It sickened you in a way, they weren’t respecting your wishes to meet on your terms. Why were things turning out like this? You were doing just fine, physical therapy was starting to fix the damage done to your leg, and yes, while you knew it would never go back to 100% use, you were fine with that. This though, this was something you’d wanted to avoid for the rest of your life. Simon and Johnny had ruined your life for months, had made you feel so miniscule and small. You were nothing more than a nuisance to them until you’d been captured by the enemy. John had been the only person to pick up the pieces, to help rebuild you as a person.

“We wanted to talk with you about everything.” Simon’s voice didn’t hide his emotions, they were laid bare in front of you.

“Simon, you can’t be serious right now, I asked for you to give me more time, this is the exact opposite of that.” Anger was simmering in your veins, a pot slowly beginning to boil over.

“I understand that, but it’s been over a year and you won’t even look at either of us.” Simon’s brow furrowed, lips pulled into a harsh line.

Your teeth gnashed together as you tried to swallow the hurtful remark that laid on the tip of your tongue. If only he knew exactly how you’d felt about the entire situation, maybe he would begin to see the real you. John placed a palm on your lower back, hoping to help not only steady you, but also calm you if he could. He’d been against you speaking to Simon or Johnny until you felt truly ready, and right now he was ready to reprimand both men.

“I think it’s best if you two leave. Now.” John wasn’t going to take no for an answer, if push came to shove he would do whatever it took to protect you. You’d suffered enough.

“Sir, you can’t be serious.” Simon was astounded, was he really about to send the two of them away because you were upset?

“I am, I have to protect my fiance, and if that means the two of you leaving, then so be it.” John’s gaze hardened as he stared them down.

Simon opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort before thinking better and deciding to grab Johnny and leave. Tears slipped down your cheeks, ruining the light makeup you’d put on before you’d left to go to lunch. It didn’t matter, you could always do yourself up for a new date night with John, but knowing it was because Simon had ruined such a special day for you? You were angry.

No, you were downright livid.

“Can we go home? I’d like to lay down.” You huffed softly, loosening the tight grip you had on his coat.

“Of course, do you want any help? Or are you alright to head to the car?” John didn’t want to rush you, even though he wanted nothing more than to be home with you as well.

“I’m all right, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” Your steps were slower, your body still tense after seeing Simon and Johnny so suddenly.

You had thought you were passed all of this, that you could face them without the terror locking your muscles to the point you were a statue. Apparently that wasn’t the case, and now you weren’t even sure you’d ever be able to talk with them again. PTSD had plagued you for so long that you weren’t even sure therapy was helping anymore. You knew the people who’d taken you hostage were dead, John accidentally let it slip during a casual dinner. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he’d been on a personal rampage to find you, and damn anyone who stood in his way.

Of course you knew deep down you would do the same thing had John been stuck in the same situation. It was a need to protect one of the people you were the closest too, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t walk without a cane, or that your hip locked up most mornings. You would do whatever it took to make sure both yourself, and John were happy.

“How did they even know we would be here?” There was no reason for them to have shown up, not if John had only called Alex and Farah for the surprise.

“I’m not sure, the only thing I can think is Simon saw my calendar down at the station.” It was the only explanation you had at the moment.

“Probably, better keep a better hold on it in the future.” You waited until John opened the door, turning your body slowly as you got into the car.

John waited until you’d situated yourself, tucking your legs in before grabbing your cane and laying it on the back seat. He was always afraid something would happen if the two of you were to ever get into a car accident so he never risked your safety. It was another thing that had made you fall further in love with him. Neither of you were perfect people, there was no doubt in your mind that any normal person would think you were a monster. You’d killed people to make sure more didn’t die, went to defend innocent civilians from the war path of an angry person.

Your heart was racing as you watched the other man knock both John and Johnny down, muttering how this would be their final moments. Johnny threw himself off the ground, the knife he’d had strapped to his thigh plunged deep into the other man’s shoulder. His scream of agony echoed throughout the train station. The Scot wasted no time in pressing his gun to the man’s head, the single gunshot was deafening as you watched with bated breath. John threw himself up and off the ground, grabbing Johnny’s vest and all but throwing him to the bombs that were still counting down. It had only taken him mere seconds before the timer stopped, Simon and Kyle finally making their way down to where you were.

The two accomplices had fled, leaving behind their leader who now lay lifeless on the shockingly bright concrete. You stood up slowly, hands shaking as you swallowed the thick bile that creeped up in your throat. Had Johnny not gotten the shot off, who knows what could’ve happened? Would the five of you have been standing together, or would someone else have lost their life at that moment?

“You doing alright, soldier?” John laid a hand against your shoulder, noticing the way you seemed to flinch.

“Yes sir, just shaken up a bit.” You didn’t want to lie, not to someone that was mere seconds away from death again. 

John nodded his head before radioing to Laswell, letting her know the threat had been neutralized as well as the bombs.

“Sweetheart?” John pinched your chin softly, turning your gaze to face his.

“Hmm?” Your eyes focused on the way his lips pulled into a soft frown.

“You alright? Seemed a little dazed.” John knew things like this could happen, it had happened to him plenty of times before.

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

“Just thinking about the past, got lost.” That mission wasn’t even the worst you’d been on, but it was a reminder that everything could be gone within the blink of an eye.

“I know, I’m always here if you want to talk about anything.” John’s fingers released your chin, wrapping around your much softer fingers as he brought them to his lips.

Your smile was radiant as he pressed a kiss to each finger before pressing one final one to the ring he’d slid onto your finger just an hour prior. Everything in that moment, the two of you in your own little bubble, felt almost perfect. It began to sink in that, even though you didn’t want to, you would need to confront Simon and Johnny. They were people that meant a lot to John, and you at one point, and even after everything you’d want to invite them to the wedding.

“You’re thinking too hard, why don’t we go inside so you can get changed, and then we’ll discuss everything.” John raised a brow, waiting to see if you would be comfortable moving after what had happened.

“That sounds perfect, though you’ll need to get my cane for me.” You gestured with your free hand towards the cane that sat comfortably in the back seat.

John’s smirk raised sudden suspicion as he quickly got out of the car, slamming his door before rushing over to your side. John was careful not to swing the door open too quickly, lest your body get jerked and cause any unnecessary pain for you. He reached over, unhooking your seatbelt and pulling it away from your body.

“John, what-”

Your words were cut off as he scooped you up into his hold, not even a grunt slipping through his lips as he shut the door with his foot. Your laugh echoed as he walked up to the front door, stealthily slipping the keys from his pocket to get the front door opened. It was no secret you’d gained weight after the whole abduction, having to do physical therapy and not being as active had a hand in it. 

“You are one cheeky bastard, you know that?” Even though your words would sound harsh to anyone else, the smile on your face told John an entirely different story.

“Only the best for you, my love.” John quickly got the door open, shutting the door with his foot, again, once you were safely inside. 

You rested your head against his chest as he made his way down to your shared bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed before searching for comfortable clothes. He tossed over one of his shirts that you’d stolen in the past, laughing as it smacked you in the face. His own laughter followed suit as he’d realized what had happened before finding his own clothes. 

His hands were gentle as he helped you undress, slipping your shoes off before sliding off your pants, shirt, and lastly your bra before helping you into the much softer clothing. You ran your hand along the fabric of his shirt, smiling at the faded color. It had been one of his favorites to sleep in until you’d stolen it one night, he only ever wore it when he wanted you to smell like him.

“John?” You looked up at him nervously, your smile disappearing suddenly.

“What’s wrong dove?” John sat down beside you, taking your hands into his lap.

“I want to talk with Simon and Johnny. I know what they did earlier was completely out of line, but they’re our friends, I want them to be there when we get married.” It wasn’t a decision that had come lightly, even before John had proposed you always knew you wanted the task force there.

John was quiet for a few moments, soaking in the information and deciding on what would be the best thing to say to you in that moment. You deserved to be the one to initiate the conversation, and he was happy that right now it was your choice.

“I can call him, make some tea for when they arrive.” John’s voice was soft, even though he would always be slightly angry at what they’d done, he wouldn’t shun them out forever.

“That sounds perfect.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, you’d need time to prepare before they arrived.

John helped you down to the living room, offering assistance only if you needed it. He knew how annoying it could be when someone offered to help out because they assumed you were too weak. It was one of the reasons you worked so well together, he knew when to push you harder, and when to be the person you fell back on. 

Once you were comfortably seated with one of the books you’d been reading, did John call Simon, telling the other man that you wanted to speak with him and Johnny. The call was short, Simon stated they would be over within the next fifteen minutes, which gave John plenty of time to make some tea. He’d all but stopped drinking after finding out that most of the pain meds you had been taking couldn’t be mixed with alcohol. He only ever smoked on base, never when you would be around to smell any of the smoke.

Knock knock!

Your heart kicked up a beat before settling down once more. John walked over to the door, greeting them both quietly as they walked into your home. Johnny took his boots off quickly, not wanting to track mud inside. Simon followed suit, making sure their shoes stayed together so they could get them back on quickly if needed.

“Come on, let’s talk.” John headed into the living room, sitting down beside you as he pulled your feet into his lap.

Simon swallowed nervously. Funny how someone who could stare death in the face was suddenly afraid of upsetting you again. Johnny stayed close to Simon’s side, plopping down in one of the arm chairs as he waited for someone, anyone to break the silence.

“You can sit down, Simon, I’m not going to bite.” You tried to smile, but it felt almost wrong.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. Johnny even told me that I shouldn’t have intruded but I was so afraid things were going to get worse.” Simon wrung his hands together, coffee colored eyes flicking down to the scarred skin.

You wanted to comfort him in that moment, to tell him that everything was perfectly fine, that he didn’t need to worry. Except it wasn’t fine, nothing would be perfectly fine anymore. You sighed softly, taking in a deep breath as you waited for Johnny to say something as well.

“I…had I known what was going on, I would’ve done more to help you feel included. I felt like such an arse for being such a piece of shite towards you.” Johnny didn’t like to mince his words, he spoke his mind to whoever was willing to listen.

“That’s in the past now, there’s nothing we can do to change that.” Yes, you were angry and upset that the people you had thought were your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

John squeezed your calf softly, it was his way of comforting you when he didn’t want to say anything out loud.

“But, I want you to understand that I am still hurt by what has happened. I had always thought that we were some sort of friends, and getting kidnapped really put everything into perspective for me.” You twirled the ring on your hand absentmindedly, almost like it was a fidget toy.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve your friendship. What we did is something that you should never forgive, we left you to die and yet you’re acting like it’s water under the bridge.” Simon was angry, not at you, but at himself and the way he’d handled everything.

“Simon, I-”

Johnny stood up from his chair, the sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood.

“We were afraid you were going to pick one of us over the other and our friendships would be ruined. It was a childish and petty thing to do and every single night I have nightmares about hearing your screams from that fucking videotape. I’ll never forgive myself for letting someone like yourself get hurt because I was scared that the one person I’d seen as a friend would lose interest when they found out more about me.” Johnny’s chest heaved as his hands balled into fists.

Your eyes widened, he was afraid you wouldn’t want to continue being friends with him because of how he acted at times?

“Johnny, is that true?” You reached down for John’s hand, squeezing his fingers lightly as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aye. I’d always been the weird kid, the loud one, so when you came along being so friendly I was afraid I’d make you run off by being me.” Johnny’s words broke your heart, it didn’t excuse any of his actions but knowing deep down he was a scared little boy? You couldn’t even imagine.

Simon cleared his throat, wiping his palms onto his jeans as he stood up slowly. It never ceased to amaze you how much taller Simon was than everyone else on the task force.

“He’s not wrong. When you’ve been scared of making connections with people, you tend to push away people without thinking about their feelings. I truly am deeply sorry.” Simon would never be able to deserve your forgiveness, let alone your friendship, but he was willing to try.

“You two are going to make me cry.” You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

Johnny smiled softly as he walked around your coffee table, pulling you into a gentle hug so as not to cause any pain. You pulled him in tighter, laughing softly as he knelt down onto his knees.

“Thank you, truly I’ll never deserve your kindness.” Johnny whispered into your shoulder, arms tightening around your middle.

“You deserve nice things, both of you do.” You patted Johnny’s back, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning your gaze to Simon.

The poor man looked ready to flee the situation entirely. He’d never done well with physical touch, not after dealing with so much death over the years, but a hug couldn’t hurt. He followed suit that Johnny had, dropping down to his knees beside the couch and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was wheezy as you tried to squeeze him back just as hard.

“Guess I forgot how strong you were.” Simon shrugged sheepishly as he pushed himself up and off the floor.

“Forgot you don’t spend more time in the gym, not like that one over here.” Simon jerked his thumb over at Johnny who stared back offended.

“Hey, no fighting in the house you two.” You raised a finger, like a mother scolding her two children.

They both stopped any arguing, staring away from one another as you and John laughed at their ridiculous antics. It felt good knowing that your friendship would start anew. John helped you off the couch, leading the two men out and saying their goodbyes.

It was nice knowing that even though they had their reasons for acting so foolishly, they knew it was wrong and apologized. Now the only thing you would need to worry about was planning your wedding.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with John.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[romanarose]

For the Longest Time: Chapter 9

William Miller x Fem!OC (Lorelei Giang)

Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist :Playlist

Join my taglist!

Summary: A happy gathering devolves.

Warnings: Domestic violence, homophobia, transphobia, fighting, physical violence, blood, pregnancy talk, choking, PIV sex, talk of OCD, meds, orgasm struggles, fingering, JUST LOTS OF ANGST OKAY

AN/ here we gooooooo

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

Will had Lorelei on her hands and knees, naked on his bed as he fucked into her, his hand splayed on her butt and thumb fucking into her asshole. He was rough like she liked it, but always careful with her, knowing her limits. Will was conscious not to hurt her or the baby. At 8 months this was about the only comfortable position left. Will had assured her time and time again that they didn’t have to have sex… but he said it one too many times, making the woman who used to never cry break down in tears thinking that meant he thought she was ugly. Lorelei was very emotional these days. And incredibly horny.

It was fairly often Will woke up in the middle of the night (or day, depending if they were napping. Lorelei still worked and occasionally had to stay late still) to the buzzzzzzzz of her vibrator as she lay in bed with him.

That’s how today started. Several people had called in, and Lorelei didn’t want to leave the hospital understaffed so she stayed overnight, with the stipulation that she got to leave early on Thursday. Laci and Santi wanted to gather everyone, probably something to do with the wedding plans, and although Laci assured her it was okay she missed this, Lorelei wanted to be there. Lorelei wondered if they were going to postpone the wedding while they figure out whatever their issues are.

Lorelei and Will were taking a nap the afternoon before everyone was getting together at their bar, but Lorelei woke up from a sex dream, needy as all hell. She looked over to her loving boyfriend, sleeping so soundly and could not bare to wake him. The gentle giant, all 6’2 of him, was curled up under a fluffy white blanket looking downright angelic. Lorelei absolutely adored this, being able to watch him sleep… He worked so hard, he deserved it. He did so much for his family. It was nice to watch him rest.

But right now she needed a dick inside her, so she grabbed a dildo and vibrator from her bedside drawer, avoiding the gun she still kept inside, and tried her best not to wake Will.

That did not work, and neither did the attempt at an orgasm with her giant belly in the way.

When she groans in frustration, she hears Will chuckle next to her, and she turns to see a shirtless Will smiling at her.

 Over the last 2 months, Will had become comfortable being shirtless around Lorelei, but she noticed he still avoided situations where his bare back was to her if he could help it. In respect, Lorelei turned away whenever it was unavoidable, and she never touched him there. Will had explained what happened, how his dad would whip him so badly he’d have to miss school, bedridden while his mom tended to his wounds. Talking about the beatings he endured were hard, but he spoke almost mechanically, relaying the details. What was hard for him, where he choked up, was talking about his mom. Will loved him mom, he never blamed her outwardly… but there was a layer of betrayal in his voice at the idea that she never took him and Ben away, that Will was left to be the sole protector of his brother he was only 2 years older than. His mom was a victim of his dads abuse too, and with therapy he understands why she couldn’t leave… but that doesn’t change the scared boy inside him wondering why he wasn’t enough for his mom to protect.

Lorelei sighed, dropping her arms to the bed with the vibrator rumbling against the mattress and a dildo sticking out of her cunt.

“Is this funny to you?”

He chuckles. “A little bit.”

“You're laughing.” Lore pouts dramatically. “I can’t get off with two sex toys and you’re laughing?”

“I’m laughing,” William begins caressing her brown skin, trailing fingers over her swelling breasts and over her large stomach. “Because you can’t go more than a few hours without needing to get filled.” His voice dropped low, reaching for the dildo and sliding it backside. Lorelei moaned, her head dropping back as he slowly fucked her with it.

“Fuck, William…” Lorelei sucks in a deep breath, letting Will take over for her. Before, if she wanted to cum constantly she usually had to take matters into her own hands, but with Will, Lore could just allow him to handle it. Usually, Lorelei preferred to be on top, she liked control in one way or another and Will had been happy to give it to her, still keeping his bits of control in ways like guiding her hips rocking over him. Sex with William was akin to a dance, both of them working together for mutual pleasure. However, lately Lorelei has had less and less energy to be on top or in any sort of control, and has acquiesced to letting Will take care of her.

“Why didn’t you wake me, baby?” Will coo’s in her ear.

Lorelei whines. “You work so hard…”

Will chuckles a little bit. “Princess, you work 40+ hours a week 8 months pregnant. I volunteer part time. You can wake me if you wanna feel something other than cheap plastic in you.”

Lorelei mutters something about it not being cheap, panting as she lays there getting fucked. “You volunteer, you help the farm, you’re dealing with Ben and have been driving Laci around-”

 Santi was doing some consulting lately. With Laci and Frankie working and Ben and Will having their own personal lives busy, he’d confessed to being lonely, and was trying to keep busy. Not that he’d ever tell Laci that, god no. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to stay home. The 30 hour weeks were working for her. Laci can’t drive, so Will had been helping her out here and there. 

As for the farm, they had some hired help but Will was out there for long hours while Lorelei worked. He had wanted to sell the damn place, it was barely functional as it was and Mrs. Miller was getting ready to move off the property, but no buyers just yet. It was looking like harvest season was going to need to be manned by them. Ben wanted nothing to do with the farm, so he was no help. He existed in a stand of a constant buzz of alcohol anyway, and refused rehab.

Will cut her off with a kiss. “None of that matters more than my princess needing me.”

She melted into him, all her barriers were coming down with every day he continued to prove himself. She couldn’t wait to see him with Chloe… the idea of Will with a tiny baby made her think about getting pregnant intentionally. 

He’ll be a good dad. She just knew it.

That’s how she ended up on her hands and knees, coming on his cock 3 times and he was still going. 

“Fuck!” He grumbled, pulling out of her and sighing, but no orgasm. Will was suddenly avoidant, scooching off the side of the bed to get dressed.

“Will?” Lorelei asked, initially reaching for him, but remembering not to touch his back. She excited the other side of the bed to walk around in full view of him so no moved were sudden. There was no part of Lorelei that thought Will would hurt her. He hadn’t had flashbacks for years. But, she still was conscious of things that may trigger or discomfort him.

“Okay if I wrap us up?” She asked, stark naked but holding a blanket. Will nods, and she joins him at the end of the bed where she wraps and blanket around them both. “You okay?”

Will nods, eyes closed as he’s doing his breathing. His dick was softening, and it made Lorelei sad to know he was struggling. After the ball, Lorelei went with Will to his therapy appointment. Will only went once a month now. He signed up after the fated mission that lead them to rescuing Laci. Ben had been shot, leading to some poor behavior on Will’s part in his treatment towards Laci in the beginning, residual feelings about protecting his baby brother despite Ben’s capabilities as a soldier. He didn’t like how he was acting, so he was the first to go to therapy. Frankie came later after some encouragement from Laci, who is still in weekly therapy. 

Will addressed his issues quickly being the efficient and intuitive person he was. Straight to the point. He was going once a month, but had bumped it up to twice and was seeing a psych at Lorelei’s request. Part of it was because of his new diagnosis, but also because of the continued stress of Ben. Ben refused to get help for his eating, insisting there wasn’t a problem and just became more secretive. He wasn’t himself. Over the last few months, in addition to Laci’s mood swings, Ben had become far from the man who knew before Will. Gone was the ray of sunshine that beamed at her even beaten and bloodied from a bar fight. Ben wasn’t himself. 

He didn’t smile much anymore, barely laughed… she missed him loud, booming laughter. He never sang. She used to always know when he was in her hospital because he would sing as nurses wheeled him down halls or while trying to hit on them, respectfully, of course. He so clearly avoided Laci and sometimes straight up ignored her when she talked to him. This was because Alice hated her and accused Ben of cheating with his former best friend. It broke Loreilei’s heart to see Ben and Laci so sad and so distant. He was still her best man, Laci refused to back down from that, even when Santi suggested he be a bride’s man and Jana take over as maid of honor. They weren’t doing bachelorettes or anything like that, but Santi thought she might want someone next to her that-

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, Laci cut him off and it ended in a fight. Laci refused to give up on him, even if he abandoned her.

So, all this was naturally putting a lot of stress on Will. Only reprieve he had was when Frankie came over to watch sports. Frankie and Jana were thriving.

Will was diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive disorder, and was placed on a high dosage of prozac that was being tapered up. It wasn’t easy on him at all, but he took it with stride, know the adjustment period was the hardest, saying Laci had mentioned last year struggling to find the right medications.

Right now, however, what drove him crazy was that sometimes, the medicine prohibited orgasms.

“You feeling okay?” Lorelei asked when he calmed down and opened his eyes. 

Will sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.” He kisses her head. “Let’s get dressed.”

Lorelei watches as he gets up averting her eyes from his back and instead admiring his ass and the way it’s plumped just a bit.

“It’s fucking annoying.” He muttered, turned away from her. He talks better about his feelings when looking away. Even in therapy, she noticed he doesn’t look at his therapist.

She knew he was referring to being unable to orgasm. “I know, but it’s gotten better, hasn’t it? It’s only once in a while now. I don’t mean that to invalidate-”

Will turns around with a soft smile. “I know, Lore. You mean it’s better than it was when I started.”

She nods, relieved. She’s not used to comforting, but she’s doing her best for him. After he dresses, and he sees her still watching him with a hungry gaze, he throws an old shirt at her, knowing damn well she won’t be caught outside their home in that. “Get dressed, baby. We can go for round 4 after drinks.”

*

Laci was glowing. Her wedding only 2 weeks away, both her and Santi were laughing and smiling at the table looking ever-in love. Lorelei liked seeing them like this. Will and Lorelei walked in the same time as Jana and Frankie, and Will held the door open for all three of them (Frankie did a little curtsy and thanked Will in his ‘playing barbies with Rosie’ voice).

Jana was already begging Laci to tell her what the big meeting was, an edge of anxiety to her voice Will recognized and he locked eyes with Frankie. They were worried about the same thing he and Lorelei were, thinking the wedding was postponed. 

But Laci just smiled brightly, saying it was a good surprise, but she wanted Ben there. Santi locked eyes with everyone, and everyone locked eyes with everyone except Laci, knowing Laci was setting herself up for disappointment. Whatever reaction she wanted from Ben, she wouldn’t get.

“Well, he needs to hurry up, because we have an announcement too.” Jana turned to Laci and smiled.

Ben was an hour late, walking in with Alice and already looked drunk. He had bags under his eyes, his normally golden skin was pale despite the summer sun. He had gained weight, which wasn’t a bad thing but it was an sig he wasn’t going outside or to the gym. Bulimia tends to cause weight gain. This was not the Benjamin the girls knew. This Ben had been seen by Frank and Santi a few times over the years, but this was something Will was deeply and terrifyingly familiar with. This is the Benjamin their dad beat into him, the Benjamin after Cameron left, the Benjamin that was bullied so severely by people like Alice Will constantly worried for his brother’s safety. This was bad. 

Alice was with him. She was never invited, but somehow always tagged along. 

Will whispered to Frankie. “I think he’s on something, keep an eye out.”

Frankie passed it to Jana, and Jana nodded at Will. Jana and Frankie weren’t experimental with drugs, mostly weed and coke, but back in their party days they knew people on everything and were equipped, along with Lorelei, to recognize it. Laci too, having been an addict of all sorts of drugs and vices, but she had enough on her plate.

“Okay!” Laci said excitedly, bouncing in her seat as she held Santi’s hand. “Jana first!” 

Jana tried to hold off. “No, no Laci you gathered us, you go first.”

After some back and forth, Jana acquiesced and took her boyfriends hand, looking at him with a bright smile as Frankie looked at her adoringly. 

“We’re having a baby.”

The table erupted with congratulations, Laci and Santi jumping out of their chairs to hug their friends, Will and Lorelei following suit. As a shocked Laci teared up talking to Jana, Will observed Santi holding Frankie close, his hands so wrapped up and entangled in his hair that Frankie’s cap fell down. Frankie and Santi were never afraid to show each other affection, and Santi’s eyes even teared up, whispering how proud he was of his friend. 

Will joined in, hugging them both. “I’m so fucking happy for you.” Rosie’s pregnancy was an accident, a miracle that happened in a bad time and gave Will his little niece he loved so much, but this was something happening that showed how far both of them had come. Frankie and Jana were sober and the leather cusp Frankie wore on his wrist, a gift from Laci, hid the scars of how close Frankie came to not making it to this point. Look how much he had to live for.

Ben congratulated them sincerely, even Alice smiled and said congratulations, but Ben’s eyes were not bright and excited like when they announced Jana was pregnant with Rosie. The light was gone. Ben knew as well as the others how hard Frankie worked to get sober for his family, and it made Will want to cry to see him this dead inside. The Benny he knew would be whooping and cheering and announcing to the entire bar.

When everyone settled, Jana turned to Laci. “Okay sweets, what's your announcement?”

Laci and Santi immediately turned to each other, hesitating, then to the group

“Um… we can tell you guys another time, we don’t wanna hijack your announcement.

Frankie told them it was nonsense, that this was their get together and they were happy to share excitement with their friends. 

After some deliberation, Laci took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.” She says softly, but the giddiness radiating off her body. 

Jana whipped towards her, mouth agape. “What?!?!”

Santi pulls Laci’s whole chair closer so he can cuddle Laci up next to him. He looked as happy as someone can possibly be, like he was floating on air. He turned to Laci, placing a hand on her stomach. “Mi chica perfecta, having baby…” He kissed her forehead and held her as Will, Lorelei, Jana and Frankie got up to hug the couple. The whole time, being flooded with kind words, Laci’s eyes were locked on Ben’s who was stared at her, sad and blank faced.

Alice elbowed him. “Say something, you fucking asshole.”

Ben jumped, but mumbled a congratulations.

Jana was so excited to be pregnant at the same time as her friend. She expressed how amazing it was to have three of them pregnant at once, how the kids would all be friends.

As everyone settled again, Santi spoke again. “There’s one more thing, we um… we know what we’re having…” He said, smiling widely. Will had never seen Santi like this before Laci. Everyone likes to talk about what Santi’s done for Laci, taking a physically, sexually, and emotionally broken down woman and loving her for all her broken pieces, building her up to the person she is now, a woman who still has hardships but is joyful, strong, and empathetic. Thing is, the change in Santi is evident. He’s no longer a ball of anger and anxiety, no longer alone and depressed after his sister and mothers death. He’s content, excited for his future with his girl by his side and now a baby. Laci brought him peace he never knew he could have.

Lorelei spoke. “How… how is that possible?” She glanced at Laci’s stomach. She’d gained weight the last few months, but everyone just assumed it was the weight she was supposed to be putting on to be healthy anyway. They planned to try for a baby as soon as they were married, so Laci wanted to be at a healthy weight… it seemed her heavier eating had a different cause.

Laci explained. “We just had the appointment two days ago, we’re” She looked up to Santiago, eyes sparkling. “We’re having a boy.”

“Holy shit, Lace…” Frankie mutters, smiling. “That’s amazing guys. You got a name picked out yet?”

“Not totally.” Laci sighs. “We had one for a girl. We liked Juliette Josephina”

"Juliette is French,  Josephina is Spanish.” Santi adds.

“But we can’t figure out a boy's name.”

Santiago explains that the middle name is going to Antonio, after Laci’s late brother, Antoni. “So we just need a first name. Something, Antonio, Garcia.”

The shift in Laci’s body language and facial expression was clear. She looked confused, and Will heard Lore whisper, “Oh no.”

Santi was obvious to the shift until Laci turned to look up at him. “Garcia?”

He paused at that, looking at his fiance. “Yeah… Garcia. That’s my last name, munequita.” He jokes and gently nudges her, but Laci looks irritated, scooting away. Will caught Frankie’s eyes.

“I’m the last of my family’s name, baby. I don’t want it to die with me.”

Santi looked more confused, but also there was a slight edge to his voice. “Well, if you remember, I’m the last of my family too.” That was a mistake. Laci always remembered Santi’s dead family the same she did hers. The glare on Laci’s face showed she took that personal, but Santi didn’t stop. “They won’t even let us put a different last name than ours on his birth certificate, so I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

Laci looked confused again, but when Lorelei sucked in a breath, Will turned to her for clarification while the couple had a stare-down.

Lorelei whispered. “I think Santi thought she was taking his last name…”

Oh fucking hell.

When the realization hit Laci, it showed on her face like all her emotions did. “I’m not taking your last name, Santiago...”

Everyone heard Jana groan and flop her head on the table. “Man, I wish I could drink.”

This time, Lorelei turned to Will, confused. Will clarifies. “She only calls him by his full name if she’s mad, or really um… frisky. So unless they are about to go to the unisex bathroom, it’s gonna be a long night.”

Ben stood up. “I’m getting drinks. Anyone else here suddenly pregnant or do you guys want a round?”

“The last thing you need is another drink” Alice chastizes, making Laci turn away from her brewing fight.

Laci. “Another? Ben, are you already drunk?”

Alice. “Mind your business.”

Santi. “Hey! Don’t talk to her like that!”

Ben. “Oh my god, shut the hell up, Garcia. Go figure why your fiance doesn’t want to marry you so badly she doesn’t want you last name.”

Frankie. “Ben!” But Ben was already walking to flag down a bartender, stumbling. Will began to stand, but Lorelei pulled him back. 

Santi turned to Laci, a sad, dejected look on his face. “You don’t want to marry me?”

Jana. “Don’t listen to Ben, Santito, he doesn’t know shit.”

Alice huffs.

Laci. “Of course I want to marry you! You’re the love of my life and the father of my son, I adore you, but Santiago, how could you just assume I’d take your name?”

Santi. “Because! Well… uh- well because-”

Laci. “Because I’m a woman and you’re a man? Santiago, you’ve never forced me into gender rolls-”

Santi. “Please stop calling me that.”

Laci. “You don’t listen to me!”

Santi took her hands, pulling her close with a desperate look in his eyes. He speaks quietly. “Lace, baby, I know you’re going through something right now, and the pregnancy has a lot of hormones-”

For the third time, Will and Frankie looked at each other. Rookie mistake.

Laci was not thrilled, called out Santi’s invalidating words and the couple continued going back and forth. Alice got up and joined Ben at the bar doing shots while the two couples left sat and relative quiet and drank their water and ate their food.

When Ben came back, him and Alice were drunk, handing out shots to Will, Frankie and Santi.

Frankie frowned. “Ben, you know I don’t drink.”

“Oh, right.” The blonde boy laughed, as if alcoholism didn’t nearly kill both of them. Ben grabbed the shot and took it before Frankie could stop him. Santi took his shot, and Will slid his to Santi.

Ben turned to Will, defensive. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m just not drinking is all.”

“Got something to do with the fact you have the same pills as Laci in your bathroom?”

A hush fell over the room, everyone turning to Will. They weren’t supposed to find out about that. 

“Will?” Laci’s small voice spoke through the surrounding voices of the bar. “Are you on prozac?”

Will sighs, but he feels Lorelei’s hand on his, and she whispers that he doesn’t have to talk about it. He knows if he doesn’t want to, she’d help change the subject or make an exit. But he decides he wants to. Laci, Jana and Frankie are so open about their struggles, he could open up just a little.

“I was diagnosed with Obsssive Compulsive Disorder recently and I started medication for it, and I’m back in therapy more regularly.” He spoke calmly, smooth. “It’s really not a big deal, I’m managing it, and Lore.” Will smiles at her fondly. “Is helping me.”

Ben watched him as he talked, still very drunk. “Well I guess this explains a lot.”

“Yeah, it really does. And it’s been nice getting help.”

“Why are you on prozac though? Isn’t it an anti-depressant” He asks.

“Prozac helps with OCD too”

“Doesn’t it, like... Kill your sex drive.”

Frankie smacks his palm to his face and Will sighs again.

“I’m not talking about this with you, especially not here.”

“Hey!” Ben raised his hands defensively. “Don’t get mad at me because you need pills”

Will rolls his eyes. “You literally are supposed to be on adderall”

Lorelei claps her hands together, attempting to change the subject. “Jana, Laci, how many weeks are you two then?”

Jana took the opportunity to distract the brothers. “I’m 10 weeks.” She turned to Laci. “Did you guys did the blood test to find out the sex earlier?”

Laci shook her head, smiling a bit again although avoidant of Santi’s touch. “Um… no, I’m actually 20 weeks.”

Everyone turned to gape at her. “Lace! Shit, how the hell did you hide it?” Jana looked at her stomach. She had a little bit of a stomach, but nothing that screamed pregnant.

Laci’s face fell. “Um… Well he’s um… we think he’s kinda small…” The pink in her cheeks deepens.

Alice speaks. “Are you not eating?”

“No! Of course I am! It’s just hard-”

“How is it hard, just eat-”

Santi sits up at that, defending his fiance. “Laci is doing everything possible to take care of our son. We got plenty of medical professionals, so we don’t need your input.”

Laci smiles at him again, then she gets more serious as she speaks quietly. “We wanted to keep it a secret as long as we could. I was cleared to try for a baby medically, but um… well…” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Santi whispers that she doesn’t have to explain anything, but Laci wants to. “I miscarried… before.” She emphasized the before, and Will understood it was in captivity. Santi extended a hand, and Laci took it this time. “So we wanted to wait. But everything looked good at the last ultrasound, just small. But the doctor said there was no need to worry.”

Will saw Santi squeeze Laci’s hand, and smiled. No matter the what, Santi had her back. “How long have you known?”

She looked fondly at the man who’d become like an older brother to her, someone who reminded her so much of Antoni. Antoni was tall, blond and broad too. They looked nothing alike, save for the blonde hair, but Laci liked how safe she felt with her brother. She was always shy and sensitive, even as a child. Making friends was hard for her, and she was always a little strange. Antoni was her defense. No one wanted to mess with his little sister, no matter her awkwardness and occasional meltdowns.

 “A few days after the beach trip, but before the funeral. That’s why I wasn’t feeling good and left early. I was a little worried I’d played too hard at the beach.” Laci laughed a little. “Like when I fell off your shoulders.”

“I’ll be honest.” Ben said, still avoiding looking at Laci. “Until I saw Lore swimming that day, I thought pregnant women couldn’t swim.”

Will laughed as she saw Jana close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him with a smile. “Pardon me, Benny boy?” She giggled.

Benny raised his hands in defense, laughing. “Hey don’t blame me! I got 2000’s bible belt sex ed!”

Lorelei poked her boyfriend. “So did Will, but he certainly knows his way around a vagina.” Oh boy, did he.

“Oh trust me.” Ben chuckles. “So do I.”

Jana looks at Ben. “Benjamin, baby, are you registered to vote?”

“Sure am!”

She turned to the girls, laughing. “This is why we gotta vote, ladies! Men will know absolutely nothing about women’s bodies and then make choices on our reproductive rights!”

“Don’t look at me! I voted blue!”

But Will saw right away this was not something Alice knew. She turned to him. “You vote democrat?”

Ben’s face fell. Instantly he looked panicked. “Well… I mean the last election… 2020 was a weird time…” He seemed to try to backtrack. Will watched carefully, trying to focus on Lorelei’s hand squeezing him in time. He counted the squeezes of her hand to calm himself, trying to not butt in right away. Part of Will’s therapy was learning he didn’t have to carry everything on his shoulders, and he didn’t have to step in for every little squabble within his family. 

However, if Jana had one flaw, and she had very few, it would be an inability to backdown. She spoke to Alice, serious now. “Are you telling me you vote republican?”

Alice scoffed. “Yeah, me and most of the state of Florida. What, you thought I was some blue haired liberal? Unlike you, I got a real degree and didn’t walk out of college brainwashed.” She glared at Jana, and Frankie sat up. He wouldn’t insert himself where Jana didn’t want him, but if Alice disrespected her, he’d stand by his woman.

Jana laughed out loud, a short, clipped laugh that made Santi cringe. He’d been on the other end of that laugh before, and it was never good. “A real degree?”

“Yeah.” Jana challenged. “A real degree. Not some gender studies bullshit.”

“OOOHH! That’s what it is! You’re mad I have a bachelors in Women and Gender studies. Well, even if it wasn’t a real degree, which it is, I have a masters and am working on a doctorate.”

“Yeah, a doctorate program you flunked out of because you’re a crackhead!”

“HEY!” Frankie barked. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that!”

But Alice ignored him. “Where’s your daughter, Jana? How often do you see her?” She continued to talk despite Frankie and Santi telling her to shut the fuck up. Santi wouldn’t stand by anyone talking shit about Jana, especially her mothering of his goddaughter. “You’re perfectly happy to leave your child all day to work and leave her at a fucking day or have her father babysit him while you try to girlboss your way through the corporate ladder.”

“Corporate ladder?” Jana gawks. “I work at a non-profit! Don’t fucking dare act like I’m some cold hearted corporate woman in a hallmark movie spending hours in an office over time with my family when I am trying to help homeless youth-”

“You're spreading an agenda!”

There was silence, a deadly calm as Jana processed what she said, eyebrows raised. “An… agenda… are you saying what I think you’re saying…”

Will took more breaths. Lorelei asked him if he needed to step out but he said no. He was being quiet for now, but he loved Jana with his whole heart and would stand by her too. He looked to Ben, hoping he’d fucking say something, hoping he’d choose Jana who he’s know for years, whose daughter he’s helped raise, who’d do fucking anything for him above Alice, but he knew it was futile. If he let Alice pull him away from Laci, from him, she had him completely.

Alice didn’t look at anyone other than Jana. “Yeah, the gay agenda. Homeless gay teens don’t need a shelter and hormones, they need to be sent home!”

“TO PARENTS THAT KICKED THEM OUT!”

“Parents have rights! I know the left likes to force being gay and trans on kids-”

“HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT WHEN YOU’RE DATING BEN!”

Everything was quiet, and Will felt like the life had been sucked out of the room. His chest tightened when the look on Alice’s face revealed what Will had wondered. 

Alice doesn’t know.

She looked confused. “Ben… isn’t gay…”

Jana, caught up in her anger didn’t catch up, even as Frankie whispered her name. “Yeah, okay, he’s bi, same difference but-”

Jana was irrelevant now, turning to face a wide-eyed Ben. “Benny, what the fuck is she talking about.”

Will didn’t know what was going on, what was happening, but he recognized something in Ben. Fear. “Ben, hey, let’s step out-” He stood, wanting to separate Ben from what was happening, but Ben shrugged him off.

“Fuck off! I’m not gay! Or bi, or- or any of that!”

A tiny voice whispered sadly. “Benny…” Laci’s eyes filled with sadness, a sadness Will felt in his own chest as he watched his brother crawl back into the closet after only just being out.

Then, Jana realized what she did, gasping and covering her mouth. Frankie put a reassuring hand on her thigh, but watched the scene unfold in front of him. Jana didn’t mean to out Ben, she had assumed Alice knew.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ben?” Alice spat, disgust in her voice as she looked him over.

“Baby, no, it’s not like that! It was, I went through a phase...”

Laci looked desperately at the man who used to be her best friend, not understand how he could want to be with someone who didn’t love him as he was… but somehow, she also got it. Before Santi, Lacina was so desperate for love, for affection, she took it wherever she could find it, even if that came with drugs and abuse and living on streets sometimes. It didn’t matter to her. She took the love she thought she deserved. Now, now she knows she deserves nothing less than Santi, in all his adoration. How could Ben not understand he deserved so much more than Alice? He deserved to be loved wholly and completely

“Benny, stop” She said, tearing up.

But Ben snapped at her. “Stay the fuck out of this!” He yelled with a glare, and winced as Santiago stood up quickly out of his chair. 

“Apoligize to her, you fucking dickhe-”

“Santi STOP!” Laci yelled, crying, then turning back to Benny even as her body was shaking with anxiety. She was going to get her words out, even if she had to sign them. Benny was the one who taught her and Santi, after all. “Benny, don’t do this-”

“Laci, just stop talking-”

“I don’t understand! I don’t understand why you let her talk to you like this, why you let her do this to you! You used to be my best friend and now you don’t even talk you me! How are you supposed to be my best man when we havn’t spoken in months!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be in your fucking wedding!”

Around them every person in her group had something to say to Ben: Will, Lorelei, Santi, Jana, Frankie, but Laci only saw Ben, the anger in him as her broke her heart.

“I WANTED YOU TO BE MY SON’S GODFATHER, BEN! I WANTED YOU TO BE THERE AS HE GOT BAPTIZED!”

Santi was momentarily distracted, looking at her confused. “Baptized?”

But Laci and Ben ignored him. “Well I don’t! And I don’t want to fucking talk to you!” Ben got up, nearly falling over as he stormed away. Will tried to follow after him, but Ben shouted at him to go away. Alice followed after.

Laci was shaking. Jana looked guilt stricken as she covered her face with her hands, taking deep breaths as Frankie soothed her, telling her she’s an amazing mom and doing amazing work. Lorelei stood by Will, holding his hands and guiding him through breathing exercises. Santi was knelt at Laci’s side, holding her as she cried. 

“You did amazing, munequita, I’m so proud of you.”

After a few moments, her body tensed, moving away from him. When Santi sensed she didn’t want her touch, he let go.

“I want our baby baptized, Santi. We’re baptizing him.” She mutters, sounding angry.

Santi blinked at her. “I- baby, can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about? We were both raised catholic.” She was avoidant, not looking at him or anyone, just staring at the floor, frowning. It was so strange for Will to see her like this, for her to be so closed off and angry as Santi attempted to communicate calmly. Santi is not known to be level headed in these situations. 

Santi took a breath, considering his words carefully as he tried to open up dialoge. “Lacina, you know, you know I would do anything for you-”

“So let me have this!”

He blinked at her yelling, clearly hurt, but he and Laci had always communicated before and he didn’t want to stop now. “But you can’t just make these choices for our son without asking me. We don’t go to church, Lace. I’m not saying we can’t baptize him, if it’s important to you of course we can but… But Lace, that’s something we need to decide together.”

Suddenly, she turned to her fiance, glaring at him. “I don’t need to ask your permission about my baby, Santiago!” She spat as she stood up, and Santiago stood with her.

Despite his hurt, he spoke calmly towards her. Santi never raised his voice to her. “Our baby, Laci. Our baby.”

“Whatever.” Laci shook her head, walking away. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Santi began to walk after her, knowing she can’t be alone in public, but to his surprise she shouted at him to leave her alone.

*

Laci’s face burned with embarrassment and tears as she tried to avoid eye contact with people in the bar. She was radiating anger, and right now it was directed at Santi but she knew that’s just because he was the easier target. It’s easier than admitting how badly Benny hurt her. He was her best friend, he was the first person she spoke to when the others rescued her and the first person to treat her normal. While the others talked to her like a scared wet cat, he would come over and put on Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Santi tried to put on the show recently, knowing how much she missed watching it with him, but it just made Laci cry.

She missed him, and she hated the person she’d become recently. She was angry, all the time and she took it out on Santi… her loving, wonderful fiance. Maybe she was wrong, maybe she didn’t deserve him. Maybe she deserved what she had gotten before, the love that hit her, got her addicted, sold her. Santi deserved better.

As she passed a hallway, she heard Ben’s voice and couldn’t help but look up. What she saw… it made a lot of things clear. 

Alice and Ben were arguing, but that wasn’t unusual. What struck her, what compelled her to keep watching was how scared he looked. And then it happened.

Alice threw a punch, and right away Laci knew it wasn’t the first time. He barely reacted. Instead, Ben just stood there, letting him hit her. Despite everything she endured, despite her PTSD, her fear, despite the height Alice had on her and the violence she wasn’t afraid to enact on someone over a foot taller than Laci was, Laci did not hesitate. She ran up to them, placing herself in front of Ben to block him from Alice’s blows.

Alice looked enraged, and Laci felt Ben’s arm on her trying to move her away. “Lace, please, go.”

“No!” She turned slightly to bed to see his saddened and worried face, desperate to get her away from Alice, but she didn’t budge.

Alice glared at the small woman. “Mind your business!”

“He is my business! I don’t care how much he hates me, he’s still my friend and you don’t get to hurt him!”

“Oh yeah, your friend.” Alice said, disbelievingly. 

“Yes, Alice, my friend! I don’t want him! He and I had a whole year before you showed up, months before I was dating Santi for us to date if we wanted to but we don’t! I don’t want him like that! I’m engaged to a wonderful man and I had hoped that Ben would find someone to be happy with but instead it’s YOU.”

Alice crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s not you I need to be worried about, maybe it’s Santi.”

Laci felt more confused than ever. “You are so insecure! Santi is his friend!”

Ben saw it coming before Laci did and tried to move her out of the way. It wasn’t fast enough, and between Ben moving her and Alice’s swing, Laci was knocked to the ground.

*

Santi went to follow her after a few minutes, just in case she ran into trouble again in the halls. She was angry, and she hurt his feelings, but he worried she’d calm down and become afraid. He never wanted her to feel afraid, never again. He just wanted to talk to her, he wanted to sit down and talk without it becoming a fight. The baptism wasn’t the issue. Of course he’d agree to that. Hell, they could go to mass every week and begin practicing if that’s what she wanted. He knew she still prayed sometimes. Whatever she wanted was hers, he always said that… and maybe that’s where he should have communicated.

 It wasn’t that his priorities changed when she told him she was pregnant, it was that they grew. Laci had been his number one for a year and half, everything was for her. Next came Frankie, then the rest of his family: Jana, Ben, Will, Rosie, in no order. Now, however, he had his son to think of, and Laci and him couldn’t make choices on their own, not regarding him. It had to be a family choice.

Santi didn’t see it happen very clearly. He barely saw it at all. All he knew was Ben moved, and now Laci was on the floor with a bloody lip. Santi was triggered back to that day so long ago the day he found her tied up in a basement with that cut on her forehead, bleeding. Now she was bleeding again, because he didn’t protect her. He saw red.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING DEADMAN, MILLER!”

*

Lorelei was just behind him. She told Will to sit there with Frankie and Jana and she’d check in on everyone else, knowing Will needed to calm down. When she heard Santi’s threat, it didn’t matter what had happened, she knew she had to get between Santi and the man who she knew was her future brother-in-law.

Before Santiago could swing, all 5’3 of Lorelei stood between the two men, Santi’s fist pulled back.

“Lorelei, move, now.” He said, fury in his voice indicating he was just barely holding on to his restraint. 

“No! You need to cool down, Garcia!” She’d faced down Santi once before, stared at the barrel of his gun. She wasn’t afraid of his fist. She didn’t think Santi would hurt her, but she’d heard and seen what he had done to people who’ve harmed Laci before. She wasn’t sure if she was enough to stop that explosion.

“MOVE!”

“Or what!? You’ll hit a pregnant woman?” Lorelei challenged.

Santi scoffed at that in disgust. “No! I’m not Ben”

That took Lorelei by surprise and she looked to Laci. The girl was frozen, clearly compartmentalizing as she sat on the floor, her pink dress staining with blood dripping from her mouth. If Ben did that to the poor girl half his size, Lorelei was going to beat his ass herself. But she’d broken up enough ER fights to know that one cannot simply go off the word of one person. Ben, however, was not denying anything as Alice stood behind him.

“I’m not moving until you calm the fuck-”

Before she had a chance to stop it, she heard Jana yell a warning to Santi but it was too late. Will yanked Santi back and threw him against the wall, wrapping his hands around his neck. He wasn’t choking him, but he easily could.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!” He bellowed, loud and angry.

Santi didn’t back down, even knowing what Will was capable of and that he used to have blackouts.

“Ben hit Laci!”

Will turned to see Laci, Jana knelt beside her, holding her comfortably while Frankie stayed close to them both in the chaos, and anger at his brother surged, but that wasn’t the point. Santi was not the arbitrator of justice, not to Ben and certainly not to Lorelei.

“How FUCKING DARE YOU raise your hand to her!” His fist tightened, just a bit. 

“I WASN’T GOING TO HIT LORELEI! Jesus! I’m gonna beat Ben’s ass, and yours if you don’t move!”

Frankie walked to them, trying to pull Will away. He recognized that white-hot anger, and he sympathized with both of them. If someone put their hands on or raised a fist to Jana, he’d feel the same. But someone needed to be the voice of reason before they killed each other.

“You’re not beating anyone’s ass, Pope, and you fucking know it.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Will could fucking fold you.”

“HE HIT HER!” 

“William.” Lorelei spoke softly, her hands sliding over Will’s. The backs of her fingers were on Santi’s neck and she could feel his rapid pulse. “William, baby, you need to let him go.”

Will took a breath. “But he-”

“I know, baby. I know. But he didn’t touch me, and you know damn well he wasn’t going too.”

Loosening his gasp, Santi started to say something but Lorelei shushed him. “You understand where he’s coming from, right? His pregnant fiance is bleeding, you understand why he’s so angry.”

He did. He got it. It’s the ame anger he felt when he saw Santi’s fist raised to Lore, but she was right. He was never going to hit her, and certainly not 8 months pregnant. Santi wasn’t like that. He let go, still fuming, but also confused. Benny had been a prick lately, a fucking dumbass, but he’d never been the type to hit a woman. Every bar fight he was in was with men. 

Ben protected women. Benny loved Laci, he knew he did. Why would he hurt her? Laci was scared silent, going nonverbal from the shock and barely looked like she was mentally here. She looked at the floor, eyes glassy as she sat on Jana’s lap. Jana held her tightly, giving her the pressure she needed to hopefully prevent a panic attack. Hell, Will might kill Ben himself. 

When he let go and stepped back, he saw Santi make a move to go at Ben again who ws stand silently to the side, but Frankie’s hand on his chest held him in place.

“You got nothing to say, Ben?!” He shouted, the words echoing off the walls of the short hall. “You fucking coward! So miserable in your own life you take it out on someone whose loved you un-fucking-conditionally despite everything! FUCK YOU!”

Jana spoke from where she held Laci tightly. The blonde girl was in shock, no even crying like she normally does. “Santi!” She called him to look down. “Your girl needs you.” 

When Santi turned and saw his precious fiance on the floor, bleeding, his heart broke. He needed to take her to the hospital, he needed to take care of her. Laci didn’t want Benny hurt. Laci’s defended Ben to him before, she loves him. That’s not what she wants. Right now, he recognized the look in her eyes… She needed him to be present.

Santi pushed past Frankie’s hold and knelt down beside her, his touch careful on her hands and his soft. “Hey, Miss Lacina.” He said with a gentle smile. “It’s just me, Santi. I’m gonna take you to the hospital, okay?”

She gave the tiniest nod, so he continued. “I’m gonna pick you up, and I’m gonna be very, very careful. Does anything hurt?”

She signed ‘my face’

He nodded. “Yeah, I Bet it does, princess.”

Santi scoops her up in his strong arms, Jana rescinding her responsibly into capable hands. Laci wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his middle, dissociating but knowing him. She trusted in his voice, his smell, his touch even when she knew nothing else. Next, Frankie bent down and slung an arm around Jana’s middle to help her up. 

Santi turned to give one final word to Ben, holding Laci up under her bottom and pointing his non dominant hand at Ben. “Don’t come to the wedding, and don’t you ever come near my wife and child again.”

“Santi.” Frankie nudged Santi along, arm still around Jana. Frankie shot one last look back to Ben, worried, and left with the others. Now, Lorelei couldn’t understand sign language outside of some basics she’d learned, but she could recognize it. It was subtle, like she was whispering to Ben. Lorelei saw Ben nod, and then she was gone.

The two couples were left, Lorelei kept holding Will’s hand, knowing he needed it as he turned around to face Ben, angry. He’d protect Ben from Santiago, but she knew he was damn pissed about him hurting Laci.

“What. The fuck. Was that.” Will seethed at his younger brother.

Alice looked up at Ben and mouthed something to him that Will and Lorelei couldn’t read. 

Ben hesitated, but looked rapidly between Lorelei and Will before becoming avoidant. “Nothing.” He muttered and tried to walk away.

“No!” Will held out a hand, stopping him. “Did you hit her?! Did you actually knock a pregrant women, Laci of all fucking people, to the fucking floor? Jesus Ben! We thought you were better than that!”

Grabbing Alice’s hand, he shoved past Will. “Fuck off.”

“THIS WHAT YOU WANT, BEN? TO HURT WOMEN?” Will shouted, starting after him, but Lorelei held him back. “YOU WANNA BE DAD, NOW?”

Lorelei watched Ben and Alice leave, but somehow, she couldn’t believe this was the full story. Ben was not like that. Her intuition said something was wrong.

*

It was a few hours later. Lorelei and Will were up watching I love Lucy, Lore between Will’s legs on the couch. Despite being horny as hell, Lorelei could read a room and did not initiate. So, she simply laid with him and tried not to squirm. It was, frankly, hot seeing Will defend her like that, knowing that he’d do anything for her and Chloe. Seeing his throw Santi up against the wall for even looking like he might hurt her… goddamn…

“You're horny, aren’t you?” His voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Goddamn it. Am I that predictable?”

He chuckles. It was nice to hear him laugh after tonight. “A little. But mostly, it was kinda hot watching you stand up to Santi like that. Remember the day you first met him?” 

“How could I forget.” She can feel him laugh, then he sighs.

“I’m supposed to be in his wedding in two weeks. I don’t know how we get past that.”

“He told Ben to stay away, not you.”

“But I almost choked him out Lore…” Will groaned, feeling ashamed of his actions. 

“You did it to protect me and Ben, Santi will understand. And he was doing what he did to defend Laci. I think you both can understand each other.”

A brief pause. “I just can’t believe he did that… To Laci of all people, christ, that girls been through enough.”

“Yeah… and god damn, that whole part before?” She shook her head. “Shit show. Bet Jana feels awful.”

“She didn’t mean to. Ben’s been out for a while, a last to everyone except our family. She just assumed his long term girlfriend would know.”

Lorelei flopped her head back on Will’s chest. “Watching him walk himself back into the closet… that was hard to watch.”

“Don’t I know it…”

She turned to look up at him. “You doing okay, baby? As good as you can?”

He sighed “Yeah… looks like the meds are working, at least a little.” Will kissed her temple, his hands slowly started to caress her sensitive breasts.

“Mmmmmmm” She moaned, but made her best attempt at making him not feel like has too. “We don’t gotta do nothing just because I’m horny, babe. You had a bad night.”

Will kissed her neck. “Just wanna give you one on my fingers. Get my mind off things.”

Lorelei smiled. She wasn’t going to protest if he really wanted too. “Okay.” She relaxed into him as he slid his hands into her pj pants.

It was just started to get good when his phone rang, and she groaned.

“I’m gonna ignore it.” He promised, but the strain in his voice told her he wanted to answer.

“Go ahead, answer it. We can pick up later.” She pulled his hands out of his pants. It could be a number of people, including but not limited to the girl who took a fall in her second trimester and had to go to the ER. Lorelei remembered how scary that was for her when she fell.

Will pulled his hand out of her pants, still wet with her slick and grabbed his phone.

It was Santi. He sighed. He wanted to start with ‘what the fuck do you want’ but there was a more important issue. “How’s Laci and the baby?”

‘Their fine. Laci’s um… startled. Isn’t talking yet. But they are fine. She’s sleeping right now. She was… she was able to sign, though and… well she explained what happened. Ben tell you anything?’

Will looked to Lorelei who was listening in. “No, he just um… walked away.”

They could both hear him sigh loudly over the phone. ‘Listen man, we gotta talk.’

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

:((((((((((((((((( BENNNYYYYYYYYYY

Tell me all your thoughts! Santi and laci fighting, jana and alice, etc etc etc

Laci is largely meant to be in the wrong here, but she’s spent a lot of chapters of several series being “perfect” and now she’s going through this plus pregnancy, Alice’s bullying and losing Ben, she’s not acting like herself.

And Ben…. Oh Ben.

I started cry writing Ben and laci fighting, Ben putting himself back in the closet broke my queer heart

@pimosworld @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @milkymoon2483 @poeedameronn @itspdameronthings @miraclesabound @babymills16 @rayslittlekitten @kirsteng42

[topguncortez]

Day 24: Fight or Flight ➢prompt: Catatonic ➢character: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw ➢warnings: Catatonia, PTSD, violence, mentions of choking (non-sexual), dehydration, mentions of torture, mentions of the Uranium Mission, therapy, arguing, denial. Based on the episode of Grey's Anatomy where Teddy goes catatonic. ➢word count: 2.2k ➢A/N: can be read as a part 2 to Day 16 Masterlist || whumptober || library page ||

Bradley was near his wits end as he leaned against the doorway of his bedroom. She hadn’t left the bed, in the same position she was in since she laid down three days ago. He was starting to get both concerned and annoyed at her behavior. He knew that she was probably going through hell, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the forced silent treatment. He sighed and pushed himself away from the doorway not being able to watch her anymore, and walked back into the living room. 

“How is she?” Natasha asked as Bradley walked back in. Bradley just shrugged and sat down on the couch, turning his focus on the football game that Jake and Bob were watching, “Bradley, how is she?” 

“Not talking, not eating, not drinking. Same as yesterday,” Bradley mumbled. Natasha sighed and pushed herself up from her spot on the couch and began to walk down the hall, “Where are you going?” 

“To check on her,” Natasha said, turning around. 

“Why bother? She hasn’t moved from her spot in three days. She’s not going to suddenly start talking to you. She hasn’t said a word in over three months.” 

“And that’s not concerning you, Bradshaw?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, “Look, she needs help. It’s not healthy that she’s gone this long without at least water. I called Fanboy to bring an IV. I didn’t think you would want to take her to the hospital to be committed.” 

“No,” Bradley muttered. Natasha didn’t say anything else as she walked down the hallway towards the bedroom. 

Bradley had seen people go through this before, he had heard the screams and the cries at night of military personnel who had gone through hell overseas. His first couple nights after being rescued had been full of nightmares, but it was always Y/N who woke Bradley up and held on to him. She had survived all the torture the enemy had put her through. She remained resilient, even when she had to stay at the VA hospital for an extra month, getting mental health therapy and some physical therapy.

 The biggest issue they were trying to overcome was getting her to start talking. She would do anything but talk to her therapist, she would draw them pictures or write things down, but would never become verbal. Her therapist said she was okay to come home, that the refusal to speak was a personal choice, a way of letting herself heal. Bradley had learned to momentarily live with it, his own therapist giving him ways to help her. He thought he was doing the right thing by talking about his day, but when he mentioned something about an award for their service during the Uranium Mission, she shut down and crawled into bed. 

“You think this has to do with the award thing?” Bob asked, softly. 

“No fucking clue,” Bradley sighed, “I barely even mentioned it but she lifted her head up and had this look in her eye. . . like she was going to say something, but instead she just kept cleaning the kitchen and then went to bed, and never got out.” 

Bob opened his mouth to say something back when the front door rang. Bradley got up to let Fanboy, and not surprisingly, Payback in as well. Fanboy gave everyone a brief greeting before Bradley showed him down to the bedroom. Fanboy was the only one on the dagger squad who had his combat lifesaver certification, and could give IVs to patients. Bradley was suddenly very grateful for the WSOs skills as he walked into the room. Natasha had pulled up a chair and sat by the side of the bed. Y/N’s eyes were open and it was like she was staring right through you. Natasha had tears in her eyes as she ran a hand through Y/N’s matted hair. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s Fanboy,” Mickey said as he set down his bag of supplies. 

“She’s not going to say anything to you,” Rooster answered. 

“I worked with patients like her before I became a pilot,” Mickey said, setting everything out on the dresser, “I know she might not answer me, but she can still hear everything that’s going on. Studies show that talking to comatose patients can help them come out of their comas.” 

“She’s not in a fucking coma.” 

“She pretty much is,” Fanboy said, looking over at her, “Let’s roll her on her back, and set her arm on the pillow. I’m going to put the IV in her hand and then wrap it, so hopefully she won’t pull it out.” 

Natasha nodded and stood up. Her and Fanboy rolled Y/N’s body over as Bradley watched from the doorway. He stayed out of the way as Fanboy brought over his supplies to insert the IV. He was glad that Natasha was here and held Y/N’s hand, and whispered sweet things to her. For growing up with such an affectionate mother, Bradley didn’t do well in these situations. When his old wingman had gotten hurt, Bradley didn’t even visit him, simply because he didn’t know what to do. 

“Alright, Y/N,” Fanboy said and checked the tubing to the IV, “You should start feeling better, now.” 

“Thank you, Mickey,” Natasha said. Fanboy nodded and cleaned up his stuff before leaving the room. Bradley stared at the  IV leaving Y/N’s arm, “If she doesn’t get better, we might need to have her committed.” 

“I’m not doing that,” Bradley shook her head, “She’s fine.” 

“She’s not! Bradley, she’s not, okay,” Natasha said shaking her head, “I’m not having this argument with you in front of her.” 

Bradley rolled his eyes and walked back down the hall towards the living room. He sat back in his spot, and tried to pay attention to the sports game on the TV, but he couldn’t. His mind kept replaying those hours of him and Y/N being trapped in that basement. Her cries and whimpers as she tried to keep herself alive. They never touched Bradley, and that was the worst thing. He didn’t have anything physically wrong with him, he didn’t have scars like Y/N did, just the emotional scarring. 

In a way, it was easier for Bradley to bounce back after the mission. He only spent the mandated time at the VA, and was sent back home after it. He didn’t have to go through months of physical and behavior therapy like Y/N did. Yes, he occasionally saw his therapist when the Navy told him, but it was once every two weeks or so. Even though they had both survived, it was as if a part of Y/N had died in that basement. 

She wasn’t sure why the Navy thought they had to give her an award for what happened during the Uranium Mission. Yes, they had completed it successfully and that was probably the only good thing that happened. Everything went to hell as soon as they hit coffin corner. Y/N could still hear the sounds of her fellow aviators trying to avoid the SAMs as they came right for them. Every time she closed her eyes she could see Rooster sacrificing himself for Mav and calling out to her. She knew it was stupid to go back and try to find him in the middle of enemy territory, but she had to. Every single person in the sky that day yelled at her and tried calling her back, but she wasn’t going to let the love of her life die in the middle of enemy territory. Y/N was still unsure how Bradley managed to get to her, she didn’t remember much about the ejection, other than her plane breaking apart from the impact of the SAM. 

Y/N always thought military awards were stupid, unless you were getting something like the Purple Heart. But Y/N didn’t need another Navy Commendation Medal for what happened in the basement of the enemy’s house. She didn’t need any more reminders of the worst hours of her life. The hours that she wished she could block out from memory, but they played every single time Y/N closed her eyes. She remembered everything about that night even though the doctors and nurses said she didn’t.

After sitting by Y/N’s side for nearly an hour, Phoenix walked angrily down the hall to the living room where the guys were. 

“This can’t go on for any longer,” Phoenix said, “I’m taking her to the hospital.” 

“No, you’re not, Trace,” Bradley said, rolling her eyes. 

“She needs help!” 

“She’s fine!” Bradley yelled, standing up from the couch. 

“Oh and you were fine when you choked her in your sleep?!” Natasha yelled at him. Bradley felt himself falter as he looked around at the living room. 

“How do you know about that?” He mumbled out, looking down at his sock covered feet. 

“She called me after it happened. She didn’t say what happened but she was in uncontrollable tears, I thought she was going to pass out,” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, “She texted me afterwards and told me what happened.” 

“I was asleep, I had no idea what was going on until Bob pulled me off of her,” Bradley said honestly. He had no idea what he was doing until he felt Bob’s strong arms circle around his waist and tackle him off of her. When Bradley’s body hit the ground, he came to, watching as Y/N heaved through tears, standing up from the bed and quickly rushing to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Bob explained several hours later what happened and Bradley was so ashamed of himself. 

“You struggle with PTSD from the mission, and so is she. You acted out in violence, and she shut down. You got help after that night. And now she needs it,” Natasha’s voice cracked, “Please, Bradley. I can’t watch this any longer.” 

“Nix is right, Bradshaw,” Hangman said, “She’s wasting away in there. She needs help. She needs you.” Bradley felt tears running down his cheeks and he nodded. He looked up at Phoenix, who stepped out of the doorway for him to go down to his bedroom. Phoenix let out a cry and Hangman stood up from the couch, and took her into his arms. She cried into his chest and he placed his chin on top of her head, trying to soothe her. 

Bradley let out a shaky breath as he stood outside of their shared bedroom door. He hadn’t been sleeping in there since the catatonia started, choosing instead to sleep on the couch. He opened the door to the dark room softly, and very carefully walked over to the chair by the side of the bed. Her eyes were still open as they watched the rain hit the window. It hardly ever rained in California, and when it did, Y/N was usually pulling Bradley outside to dance in it. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her for several moments, but turned his brown eyes to her frame. Her eyes looked exhausted, dark circles underneath them. She hadn’t moved from when Fanboy and Phoenix rolled her to place the IV in. She was on her second bag of fluids, which was probably a good thing. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been. . . I haven’t been in here a whole lot,” Bradley said, and cleared his throat, “I just. . . I don’t know what to do,” Bradley sobbed out and held his head in his hands, “I just keep fucking this up. If it wasn’t for me trying to save the damn day, you would’ve never been captured and ended up in that fucking basement with me. I will never, ever, forgive myself for what they did to you.” Bradley moved closer to her, and grabbed her hand. Her eyes still hadn’t moved from the window, but according to Fanboy, she knew every single thing he was saying, “I am so sorry for what I did too. I didn’t even know what I was doing. Y/N, I would never ever hurt you like that. And I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting that.” 

“I just need you,” Bradley sniffled, and wiped his cheek, “I need you to be okay, I need you to keep fighting. I need you, Y/N.” Bradley held her small hand clasped in his two big ones as he cried. His body shook with sobs as every single memory of his life with her played in his mind. From the moment they met, to when he first said I Love You, to those moments before their life changed forever. It didn’t register to Bradley at first, the feeling of her hand finding its spot on his cheek like it usually did. She rubbed her thumb gently over the apple of his cheek, and Bradley looked down at her. 

“Baby?” Bradley gasped out. Her eyes were looking at him, and looked less frozen in time than they had earlier. Bradley placed a hand over hers as it rested on his cheek. 

“I’m here,” Y/N said, barely audible. Bradley let out another sob as he collapsed on the bed by her. She had tears running down her own face as Bradley intertwined their fingers and held her hand tightly.

[olderthannetfic]

Alright I got kinda a bananas questions for you, but how much time do you think should be divided up between work, hobbies and people. Actually wait more specifically what do you think is a good goal to just sit down and do work, but like actually doing work. Like sitting down for 90 minutes and finishing something not working on said thing for 5 hours then finish it. Over the past couple years I kinda erm, just sorta stopped? My mental health has steadily going to shit and covid fucked that all to hell and I was spending so much time in what was essentially a state of panic(didn’t realize it at the time, but that’s essentially what was happening) that I was too exhausted to do anything and just kind of stopped. I didn’t realize it the time but now that I’m finally getting better Ive noticed how little I was doing and how doing little really negatively effects me. Its become a good marker for me to check that I’ve been actually painting, seeing friends, going for a swim but sometimes it still all goes belly up and I’m trying to figure out what is a good goal.(and whats a good marker for when fucking up) Like a realistic long term goal I can strive for and keep track of. I could real easily just say “go for a swim everyday” but that feels unrealistic. In fact I put exercise in same spot as painting so it would be more like “do hobby for an hour a day” but even that feels like a lot. The thought of that feels exhausting so at least for me it should probs be do hobby thing at least 5 times week. Big goal is to swim 3 times and paint twice or vice a versa. its just hard to do that and then I’ll feel like crap and then notice that I haven’t exercised at all for 8 days and I just don’t move around enough to do that. I’m like a dog or walking house plant that needs to go outside and move around for sunshine and blood flow otherwise I start to physically and mentally feel awful. Its just hard to notice you know? Ugh its annoying because there’s so much shit. Its not just that I need some kinda exercise I also need to do some kinda hobby thing for me and other shit that I like to do. And that isn’t even including the work I need to do. I wasn’t even working before I cannot express enough how much of “doing nothing” I was doing. I’m doing better know with meds and therapy and what not and it is helping but I’ll still get home at 7 and just look at my phone and do some combo of read fanfictin/ play sudoko till I get tired and fall asleep. Then I wake up and shocking, I’m still on bullshit. Sometimes its feels to much to shower (at least with that one I know that I can get away with one at most 2 days with out shower so if I didn’t shower the day before I can mostly just force myself into the shower) that’s what I’m trying to figure out for everything else so I can look at my self force my self to stop looking at phone and paint a shitty flower or something. I was doing pretty good but The other week I house sitter for a friend and was immediately back on bullshit. I barely left her apartment the entire time I was there I’m sure that if I actually went to class, got exercise, painted (I brought all my paints then did fuck all) I would have been able to get more work done. I think Im only actually productive when I’m actually getting up and doing crap. I’m in a contact state of “working” and doing nothing but time is moving forward. I have no idea what this anon is. Ugh whatever I’ll submit it anyway

TL;DR trying to be better at actually do stuff and not doing fuck all. Any idea on what’s a good goal to strive for and what’s a good marker for shits getting fuck go for a walk

--

Social time is going to be extremely variable. I'm an extrovert and thus lots of social time is no problem. I also do okay not seeing people though as long as I'm busy.

Exercise should be prioritized above most other things, much as I hate this. You should be doing something basically every day. I agree that swimming is likely not realistic on that schedule, but maybe a walk around the block? It sucks, but forcing yourself to get off your ass every day will help with the rest of it. Also, exercise that takes you out of the house, even if only briefly, requires that you put on clothes, which is also helpful.

Get off of social media. If you're having trouble managing things, now is the time to take a break from anything that involves doom scrolling and time just disappearing.

(I say from my bed where I'm wearing the dirty sweatshirt I slept in and no pants while answering asks instead of working on my next novel. Hmm...)

It's obviously important to you to prioritize painting, but I see the difficulty there: you have to get set up and clean up afterwards, and you can't leave paints sitting around or they dry out. I'd try to schedule one longer session per week for now. If you have something else like sketching, you can schedule more frequent shorter sessions because that's easier to pick up and put down without a lot of prep/cleanup.

I do find little morning rituals like making tea helpful. They pry me out of bed and add some structure to my day.

[landosgirl97]

Cheers to Charleston Part 8 - Chasetell Series

*Chantell’s POV* 

After a few weeks of recovery, I could tell the stress of everything was starting to wear on Chase, I could tell but he would never admit it. I was tired between Chloe, the new growing baby, and physical therapy but I still tried to help when I could. Some nights he’d go out with the guys and not come home and I’d barely hear anything from him other than a mere “Im fine. See you tomorrow.” I tried to be understanding until the night before our first sonogram when Chloe was ill and I had no help. I had called him three times and couldn’t get in touch with him so I called Drew. He picked up almost immediately. “Have you seen Chase?” He seemed hesitant to answer me but finally did, “Yeah, I’m with him, why?” I scoff, “Can you tell him to answer his damn phone? Our kid is sick and I really could use some help.” Drew coughs, “Well, he’s kind of passed out on my couch, but I’ll send the girls over okay? I promise to have him there as soon as he wakes up.” I sigh, “Yeah okay, thanks Drew.” 

The girls made it to the house in less than ten minutes. Jas and Baby sat with me on the couch as I vented about how things had been going while Lex went to check on Chloe and give her medicine. I remember eventually falling asleep on the couch for a few hours but coming to, to a conversation between my friends. 

Baby: “Drew sent me a picture, Chase is still knocked out on his couch.”

Lex: “Who the fuck is that with him? Why is he curled up against some chick?”

Jasmine: “I’m actually going to strangle his ass. What the hell.”

The girls went back and forth arguing for a bit about whether to tell me or not, until Lex noticed the silent tears flowing down my face. “Guys, I don’t think we have to tell her anything.. She knows.” She nodded her head in my direction and the girls turned in my direction. I continued to lay there, hugging my pillow and hoping against all odds that it was all a dream. Once I got my wits about me I sat up and looked at Baby. “Let me see.” She shook her head no. I looked at Lex and pleaded with her. “Please,I need this. I need to know who it is and what I’m dealing with.” Lex nodded and Baby showed the photo to me. Sure enough, there was my boyfriend, curled up on Drew’s couch with some blonde tucked under his chin, his hands cradling her just like he does to me. I felt the tears begin to fall down my face before I could stop them. I handed Baby her phone back and looked back at the girls. “Let’s get Chloe and go get breakfast. Then she and I will go to the appointment that he obviously forgot about.” I got up off the couch before anyone could protest and went to my room to get dressed. I put on my shorts and tshirt, wearing my own this time instead of Chase’s and went to get Chloe ready. The girls packed her bag and met us at the door. We left to go to Waffle House and eat and then Chloe and I went to the appointment.

*Chase’s POV* 

I woke up with a horrible headache and was super uncomfortable. My room didn’t smell the same and something felt off. I slowly opened my eyes to see Drew sitting across the room from me. I went to get up but felt a pair of arms holding me down. I looked down and realized that it wasn’t my girlfriend and I had no clue who this girl was. I immediately pushed her arm off of me and looked at Drew. “What the hell happened last night?” He shook his head. “You asked her to come inside with you and next thing I know, I find you like this. Also, you missed Chantell’s ultrasound, and Chloe is sick. The girls are over there helping her.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Baby walked in the door. She shot daggers at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. She walked over and gave Drew a kiss. He looked at her quizzically, to which she replied, “Lex is with her and she’s a mess. Jasmine and Austin took Chloe for today.” She looked over at me before stating, “she’s feeling better today by the way. Thanks for being so concerned.” and rolled her eyes, walking back toward their shared bedroom. I got up and began looking for my shirt and my phone. I knew I needed to get home and fix this as soon as possible. Once I found them, I left Drew, Baby, and mystery girl behind and hopped in the Bronco, heading toward our shared apartment. When I got there, I knocked on the door and walked in, the sight before me immediately destroying any shred of confidence I had left. Chantell was curled up on the couch asleep, Kleenexes around her and her cheeks tear stained. Lex sat next to her, scrolling on her phone and her head shot up when I walked in the door. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she whispered. I sat down in the chair in our living room with my head in my hands. “I’m just overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to deal with everything so I decided to avoid it. In hindsight, not my best idea.” She nods, “no shit Sherlock. How do you plan to explain to Chantell that you cheated on her? Yes, she knows already but you know she’ll ask.” “I didn’t cheat. Nothing happened with her. I promise. I seriously thought she was Chantell.” She just shook her head and got off the couch. “Here’s the sono picture from today. She wanted me to give it to you if you came home. Chloe is with Austin. Let her sleep. She’s been crying for hours.” She placed both hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Fix this or I’ll hurt you. Seriously.” Then she walked out the door, leaving me alone with my sleeping girlfriend.

*Chantell’s POV* 

I woke a few hours later to the smell of pancakes and the giggles of my sweet daughter. I laid there silently for a few minutes before I heard Chloe’s little feet padding into the room and pretended to be asleep. She poked my arm and tugged at my shirt, “mommy? Mommy, wake up! We made pancakes!” A slow smile spread across my face as I opened my eyes and looked at her. I sniffed the air and made a face, “Mmm.. it smells good! Let’s go get some.” I walked into the kitchen to see Chase laying our plates down at the table as he lightly smiled up at me. “Good morning, here’s your breakfast. Chloe has a playdate with Uncle Drew after breakfast so we can talk.” I just nod my head, taking a seat and eating my pancakes and listening to Chloe tell me about the day before with Austin and Jas. We all cleared our plates and I helped Chloe get ready to go see Drew while Chase did dishes. 

After Chloe left, Chase sat me down on the couch and said he wanted to talk. “Baby.. I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. I know I really messed up yesterday.” I just nodded along, numb to the thought at this point. “Baby?” he asked, grabbing my attention again by grabbing under my chin and turning it to face him. “I don’t know what to think right now Chase. I don’t know whether you cheated, I don’t know if I even want to know, really. I’m literally carrying your child and you won’t even come home to me at night. How is that supposed to make me feel?” He takes my hands in his and looks me in the eyes. “Nothing happened between me and that girl. I swear, I thought she was you. I’m so fucking sorry. Please, I promise to do better, I just feel overwhelmed.” I shook my head, “I don’t know Chase. You seriously fucked up this time. I let it go for a while but I can’t anymore.” Chase’s eyes teared up as he looked at me, “Please baby?”

Tag List: @pankowforlife @wannabestarkeysgirl @my-baexht-ls @bethoconnor @samxslaughter @tishanas-darlings @jjmaybank63 @outerbankspov @slutforsmutsstuff @hoebx @adventuresinobx

[all-my-friends-were-glorious]

[ @nxwkid LIKED For A Starter ]

[ Stuart + Karen ]

“No, I got it--” Karen just about face planted into the glass door to the mall she turned to it so fast. Wrenching it open, she gestured for her extra pitiful (today) father to hobble on through like he might get announced on the red carpet. Much as he wouldn’t want that kind of attention, he gave a slight smile and a nod in acknowledgement as he crossed the threshold. 

Every click of his cane past her had Karen’s chest tight, and there were a few people who decided she had clearly been holding it open for them, not her disabled father. Regardless, she stood there, watching him limp off towards a store, up on her tiptoes to scan the crowd for either of her brothers. 

Maybe she was just naturally jumpy with him being out of prison, but she was also very aware that Kenny and Kevin, and Hell, even their mother probably would have shot him on sight.

Stuart had absolutely neglected to tell her about running into Kenny at the grocery store, and he had avoided places he remembered Kevin hanging around a lot.

Granted, he didn’t know a lot about his kids, minus Karen, these days. Hell, Carol even had a restraining order against him, and he’d found out about that when he had to do his physical therapy and other such appointments in the basement of the hospital. Evidently she’d been warned that he would be getting out, unlike their two boys, and decided to preempt any visits she thought she’d get.

Part of him was flattered that she thought he’d defy all logic and sense to go see her as she lay dying when he could just as easily stay with Karen and get a better experience. The rest of him couldn’t help wanting to break the order even if it was a criminal offense. He wasn’t about to jeopardize his access to free air (or his daughter), however, so he just handled his pain management and physical therapy in the basement and went on his merry way.

Even if she had to wheel him out in a wheelchair sometimes. He couldn’t help it, being Mr. Pitiful was half of his personality.

Maybe that had Karen on edge, too. Almost slamming the door on someone, she just barely managed to catch it, blinking at him. 

“Oh shit, sorry, Alex!” Immediately, she pulled the door open again, stopping it with her foot, “Everything okay in there?”

“Karebear, come on--” Stuart had not shuffled all the way back here to see her talking to some--

Who or what was that?

“Karen,” He started a second time, and she shot him a nervous look. Best not to push her too much, and he sighed, rolling his eyes when Alex had her attention again. Great.

[gvmdisease]

health rant bc now i’m feeling extra icky

my everything hurts so so much it’s bette than it was yesterday but fuck it’s still so bad i can barely raise my arms over my head bc my shoulders hurt so bad and aren’t moving right i got up to see my mom bc she was yelling at me to come see her and my back neck wrists and hips all popped and cracked and i also lost my vision when i stood up too my chest pains haven’t been too bad and neither my disney i mean it’s the normal but the pain in my joints are just not good and i’ve been meant to clean and shower and i’ve barely been able to get out of bed i’ve had like 2 liters of water and have had two meals but doing each of those things drained me so much im really really trying to not let this shit get to me but god it’s so fuckign hard i was told that if i gave all of my new meds and supplements a week i’d feel so much better and it hasn’t helped at all if anything i feel worse they’ve helped me sleep better but even then when i wake up i still feel exhausted and the pain hasn’t stopped it hasn’t gotten better nothings happened my mom told me to wait a week and it would get better my dad and my doctor told me that too and at this point im losing hope that things will get better that i’ll ever start to feel better this is exhausting i hear ppl joke about being disabled and i hear ppl say they wish they could have the things disabled ppl do but this is exhausting mentally and physically physical therapy??? yeah i got six fucking visits and then my insurance stopped covering it bc “i didn’t need it” and how much is it three hundred fucking dollars a visit i was supposed to go two days a week until i was more stable i can’t get a can i csnt get crutches my parents think im being dramatic i can’t miss school snymore and all i want to do now is fucking cry that’s all i do at this point it always makes the pain worse but what am i meant to do im practically a fucking kid who has debilitating pain and it’s so normal his parents don’t even care i missed all of ostara which is a holiday i celebrate a full fucking week and i didn’t get to celebrate at all im so fucking tired of this never ending loop of pain and i try not to talk about it i do bc no one needs to hear it but fuck every fucking second of my life for the past three years has been in pain my first day of school this year was spent trying not to cry bc i forgot to wear my knee braces and had to limp my way around school im overall just fucking done i’ve relapsed i’ve cried i’ve wanted to attempt again over this fucking shit bc nothings helping tylenol and ibuprofen barley even fucking work anymore like what the hell i fucking hate this and i wish i would just fucking stop but it won’t bc most likely this will be my life until i’m dead and haha it’s so fucking funny not being able to hang out with your friends anymore it’s so fucking funny barley being able to reply to texts i’m a fucking kid i don’t fucking need this i’m failing almost everything rn trying to manage my home life my pain and school and it’s obviously not working out fuck if that stupid fucking attempt would have worked i wouldn’t have to be here going through this fucking pain this wouldn’t be my fucking life i hate seeing all of my friends hang out with ppl do things that make them happy i hate seeing my friends able to bind their chest everyday or most days and ik that’s selfish but fuck i lost most of my life to this shit i lost almost everything i was passionate about to this hospitals and doctors are nothing new to me but seeing no one have answers or giving me false answers takes a toll on you after a while

anyway sorry if you read this i’m just feeling icky my pain won’t go down and it’s not a fun time

[enbyboiwonder]

(Rant)

Didn’t do much yesterday bc I was in standby mode after lunch (mornings I usually don’t do much anyway) bc I had a dentist’s appointment in the early afternoon, and then I was made to walk over an hour home (note that it’s only just over a mile away and for physically abled people, this would have taken less than 30 min), getting dizzy and nearly falling multiple times, not just my hands but also my feet going numb, and depleting most of my energy, because my mother thinks me being disabled is just me making crap up or faking it or being dramatic or making excuses to not do *checks notes* things I would otherwise want to do or at least not mind doing. Yup. It’s totally not, y’know, me actually having things wrong with me that prevent me from doing stuff (or at least make it difficult) that normal people like her can do no problem. So I was utterly exhausted (despite having taken a break in the shade three blocks back, and that wasn’t my first break either but it was the longest) when I finally made it home and could barely get my legs to take me the last few feet to my bedroom. I got changed and then collapsed and then hardly moved since. I’m glad I don’t have work today. I also developed a headache, so I couldn’t keep the light on for long. Or my eyes open for long, either, since one of the affected parts was the top of my right eyeball. So I ended up turning in early, like, before 9 p.m. early.

Like, my legs nearly gave out right in front of her and she still got mad and talked shit about me to my sister, because clearly nothing is actually wrong with me and I just want to spite her. (I mean, would I like to do things just to spite her? Yes. Of course I would. Do I? No, because it would mean repercussions, which I don’t want. Though, there still are anyway bc she thinks whatever the hell she wants, so what does it even matter? I still don’t, though. Maybe I’m actually still holding on to hope that this time she’ll actually believe me and won’t accuse me of doing shit I didn’t do. Maybe I’m just a coward. Either way, it’s hopeless.) Hell, I coulda collapsed on the side of the road or even ended up IN the road bc I lost my balance or my leg gave out or whatever and gotten run over, and she still woulda gotten mad at me. It’s my little sister she cares about, and my two older half brothers; I’m the abomination, the demon child who can never do anything right, who will never be good enough. Even if I did everything she wanted and nothing she didn’t, it wouldn’t change anything, because then she just finds something else to hate me for, as I know from experience. She changes the rules and tries to gaslight me into thinking that THIS is what they’ve always been. My memory may be terrible, but that sort of crap tends to stick. Sure, I still doubt everything I think I remember, but I do still know one thing for sure: she does not love me.

I didn’t even realize I was disabled until I started working (and some of it may have been the sort of attitude my parents have, that being disabled means you’re bound to a wheelchair). I always just thought that it was just that I wasn’t particularly active. Even when we had recess and P.E. and when I played kiddie soccer for a short time, my stamina and physical ability were lower than my peers, but it gets too hot to do stuff and it’s not like I worked out either, generally preferring to draw or read. It’s not that I didn’t (or still don’t) want to do more active and/or outdoorsy things, but even ignoring that the outdoors generally don’t agree w me (heat, allergies, severe arachnophobia that is also my mother’s fault that it’s this bad—exposure “therapy” does the opposite of help when you get zero say in or control over it!), I don’t get that same sense of reward or satisfaction or accomplishment that many people get after physical activity that makes a tough workout, etc. worth it. But I do after finishing a book, or a drawing, or a quest/level/chapter in a game, or from organizing things. Little wonder then I often choose the less strenuous option when that’s also more rewarding.

Then I started my job at the doughnut shop six years ago, and it started improving… but I plateaued waaay before I expected to. And then I started being given more hours, and I did not breach that plateau—in fact, I receded from it, even if more gradually than I worked up to it. I’m getting worse. My body cannot handle it. Fully physically abled people do not collapse (barely making it to a chair rather than just sinking down right there) and are then unable to move at all (seriously: I can’t even twitch a single finger, and I certainly can’t talk either. I don’t think a lot of people realize just how much energy it takes to talk. Or maybe it’s just more exhausting for me than for everyone else…) for several minutes because they’ve reached the very bottom of their energy once every 4-day work week. Fully physically abled people are not laid up in bed, barely able to move or do anything, for a day (if not longer sometimes) from pain and exhaustion after an 18-hr work week. But oh, no, I’m just faking all of it because I’m just SO good at acting and I just LOVE lying SO much :) (Both of those are patently false, btw)

Yes I need to get out of this house, no there is no hope of me ever being able to.

(Am I just making excuses, though? Everyone else can do it if they try, even disabled people. Am I just not trying hard enough? Am I just using that rhetoric that not everyone CAN try harder even when you think they should be able to as a shield when it doesn’t actually apply to me?)

I don’t know why some part of me imagined she’d be worried when I finally made it home after being gone so long. Of course she wouldn’t. Of course she’d act coldly.

[im-no-jedi]

MLWTBB: Master and Commander

Part 11 of the “My Life With The Bad Batch” series, a (mostly) canon compliant self-insert story set in “The Bad Batch”  

rated: T warnings: descriptions of food and eating, implied self-harm, gun violence relationships: Hunter/self-insert, Omega & self-insert (adopted siblings), The Bad Batch & self-insert chapter word count: 2000+ words

✨MLWTBB masterlist✨

summary: when Hannah’s already hectic life becomes almost too much to bear, Master Gildish gifts her a new companion to help ease the burdens, as well as give Hannah a new friend to live with. however, the Bad Batch are not so thrilled with Hannah’s new robotic ally, which causes major tension in Hannah’s relationship with Echo and Hunter.

notes: so I have a big family irl. we fight sometimes (although thankfully not as much as in the past). and through years of therapy, I learned that fights are both normal and an indication of a “real” relationship. being willing to get vulnerable with someone, either in a positive or negative way, means that the relationship is solid. obviously, if it’s a healthy relationship, then making up afterwards should be no sweat. as long as both sides are open and honest with each other, then it’s all good 😌

I wrote this chapter well before season 2 aired, so The Crossing hadn’t happened yet. I’m really glad we were able to see the messy side of family relationships in TBB, and I wish we could see more of it. but I guess that’s what stories like this one are for 😉

A/N: this story has not been proofread by anyone other than myself. so apologies for any uncaught errors 😬

previous chapter

Chapter 8: It’s Alright to Fight

______________________________________________________________

Cid’s Parlor wasn’t known for its cleanliness. Only since Hannah had started working there did it even pass for an acceptable place to spend more than a few minutes at. However, the mess that currently occupied the space was far worse than any dirt or grime that had been there before. The air was filled with the stench of harsh words and long-built frustration. Bodies sweating from tense muscles and clenched jaws stood littering the floor. Hearts pounding and lungs heaving so loudly, it deafened every other noise in the room.

Just your normal, average, everyday family fight.

“Would you two please end this bickering?” Tech pleaded with his brothers. He hadn’t moved from his spot in-between them both, even after one of them had been physically restrained.

“It’d be a lot easier if Wrecker wasn’t strangling me!” Echo exclaimed as he wriggled in his much larger brother’s arms.

“I’m not strangling ya!” Wrecker protested. “I’m barely holdin’ ya! And I don’t want ya tryin’ to take down Hunter once I let go either!”

Hunter let out an audible scoff that sounded more like a snicker. “He wouldn’t be able to anyway.”

“Oh, that’s real mature!” Echo retorted. “And here I thought we left Crosshair back with the Empire!”

An inhuman growl left Hunter’s throat, and his fists tightened at his side. Omega had a grip on one of his arms that held him in place, more so out of willpower than strength.

“Both of you, please! Just stop!” Omega pleaded with her brothers while giving Hunter’s arm a tug. Her desperate tone was almost enough to get everyone to drop what they were doing instantly. But not quite enough. Everyone’s tensions and emotions had gotten so high by then, it didn’t seem like anything could stop them.

Then finally, a voice came from the hallway that halted everything.

“What the hell is goin’ on in here?!”

The Clones all turned to see the only other person in the parlor besides them and Hannah standing in the doorway. A very disgruntled Cid stared them all down with her clawed hands firmly planted on her hips in condescension.

“I could hear the ruckus all the way in my office,” Cid continued. “Even with the door shut! What are you knuckleheads gettin' into now, huh?”

After a moment of silence out of pure shock, Tech was able to begin explaining everything that had happened after discovering Hannah’s new droid companion. Hunter and Echo’s visceral reaction to him had caused a huge disagreement to break out, which led to both Hannah storming off and the rest of them getting into a skirmish of sorts.

As if Cid wasn’t already looking at them disapprovingly enough, her lizard-like face grew even more condescending towards them. Her slitted yellow eyes stared up at Hunter and Echo so harshly, they could practically feel her gaze searing their skin.

“Wow. Never thought this day would come. Guess I was wrong.” Cid began to approach the group, keeping her focus on Hunter and Echo. “I’m disappointed in you boys. No, I take that back. I’m very disappointed in you. Especially you, Bandana.” She whacked Hunter in the chest with the back of her hand, just hard enough that he could feel it through his armor. “I’ll admit, I was a bit skeptical of the thing when I first saw it too. But I swear, I’ve never seen Red so happy in all the time she’s been workin’ here thanks to that droid. The poor girl already works harder than I ask of her, so I don’t have a problem with her keeping it. In fact, I encouraged her to keep it if only so she doesn’t go crazy from havin’ to deal with all of you on top of this place.”

Even though she was mostly addressing Hunter and Echo, all of the Clones felt a sense of shame at hearing Cid’s words. Even Omega, to a certain degree.

Cid looked between each of the Clones as she continued. “I honestly couldn’t care less about your personal problems, so I’m gonna keep this real simple. Knock off the hostile behavior towards that droid, or don’t bother comin’ back. And if you won’t do it for me... do it for her. Unless you really don’t care all that much after all.”

Nothing else was said as Cid walked back into the hallway towards her office. The Clones were left to try and absorb her words, as harsh as they were. But she was right, and they all knew it. Especially Hunter and Echo. Their looks of shame mixed with the heartbrokenness they shared over upsetting Hannah was enough to get Wrecker and Omega to finally ease up their grips.

After the silence lingered for a moment, Tech once again was the first to say something. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually agree with Cid. My analysis of the droid aside, it was clear that Hannah holds the droid in high regard right from the start. Though I see where Hunter and Echo were coming from, it’s unfair to place the same stigmas on droids as sentient beings. They are only machines, after all.” He gave a quick adjustment to his goggles before continuing. “The thing I’m most surprised by honestly is the sheer visceral response you both had towards Hannah. Although it’s not as surprising for Hunter, considering you two have fought before on several occasions already.”

Hearing that only made Hunter feel even worse about the situation, and he turned away from everyone, shutting his eyes tightly.

Now free from Wrecker’s grip, Echo sighed loudly and shook his head, holding a hand to his temple. “You’re right. I... I dunno what happened. I guess I got so caught up in my rage that I didn’t even realize what I was doing.” He let out a slight scoff and looked at Hunter, who was still turned away. “And I’ve been the one always gettin' on your case for bein’ a jerk to Hannah... some friend I am...”

Omega looked between her brothers solemnly, then stepped forward to speak. “You know, I used to get worried whenever I saw Hannah and Hunter arguing. Or when any of you argued or fought about something. I told Hannah about it one night during a sleepover, and she said it’s actually healthy for people who are close to fight with each other. She said it means you’re willing to get vulnerable with that person; that it makes the relationship more ‘real’. Cause otherwise, you’re just putting on a face, really.”

“Huh,” Wrecker pondered as he scratched his head in thought. “Ya know, that actually makes sense. At least, it makes more sense for us!”

“It’s how most families are, according to Hannah,” Omega continued. “She said her family used to fight all the time when she was younger. And somehow, it made them even closer. I guess because they were always willing to work it out in the end.” Her eyes shifted between Echo and Hunter as she finished speaking, and she gave them both a reassuring smile.

Hunter turned around just in time to catch Omega’s smile, and he returned it with a half-smile of his own. Then he looked over at Echo, who was giving him a sheepish look. “We really screwed up this time, huh?” Echo said to him.

“Guess we did,” Hunter replied. He gave a small sigh and walked up to Echo. “And I dunno what I feel worse about. Takin’ my feelings out on you or...” A small lump began to form in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it. “Or on Hannah.”

“Yeah...” Echo rubbed the back of his neck solemnly and looked at the floor. “Though after callin’ you out on Hosnian Prime... I think I know which one I feel worse about...” He scoffed through his nose and shook his head. “I’m not sorry for that droid, though. I can’t be. If he’s just a machine, like Tech said, then I shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells for him.”

“Perhaps just a smidge of restraint would do you good,” Tech interjected. “You know, for Hannah’s sake. Not the droid.”

“Hey,” Wrecker said, looking around the room. “Where is the droid, anyway?”

Tech gestured to the corner of the room Clank had been at, saying, “He’s right over—oh.”

The corner was empty. Not a soul was in sight. 

The Clones all quickly began scanning the room for the droid, but to no avail. Omega even checked behind the bar counter, but there was nothing.

Hunter was the first to pick up on what happened, unsurprisingly. His well-trained and enhanced sight caught the subtle tracks of a robotic entity walking towards the door.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Echo lamented angrily.

“He must’a slipped out while we were fightin’!” Wrecker exclaimed.

“Well, what the hell would he do that for?” Echo exclaimed back.

“I couldn’t possibly surmise,” Tech dryly replied with an eye roll.

After internally cursing to himself about the whole situation, Hunter quickly headed to the refresher to get Hannah. Fight or not, she needed to know. “Hannah?” he called out after knocking on the door. “You need to come out here!”

“I can’t,” Hannah replied, her voice muffled from the shut door. “I’m allergic to jerks.” Though she put effort into it, it was clear from her tone that she’d been crying a lot, and Hunter’s chest physically ached from hearing it.

“It’s serious,” Hunter added, trying to mask his own pain.

“So am I!”

If it weren’t for that damn droid causing another problem, Hunter would’ve forced the door open if only to apologize directly to her face.

“Hannah, the droid is gone.”

Almost immediately, the refresher door slid open to reveal a red-faced, puffy-eyed Hannah. Her expression was a mix of terror and rage, and her tone matched it. “What. Did you do?”

“Nothing,” Hunter eked out, almost too stricken with emotion to speak.

Hannah didn’t wait for any more explanation and pushed her way past Hunter to get into the parlor. Her eyes scanned the room to confirm that Clank was truly gone. The truth of it nearly sucked all the air from her lungs, and her whole body shook out of fear.

“Where is he?” she managed to say, finally addressing the others in the room.

“We don’t know,” Omega replied solemnly.

“He’s not here,” Tech added. “Hunter was able to find tracks leading out the door, but that’s all we--”

Before Tech could even finish his sentence, Hannah had bolted to the door and was making her way up the stairs, calling out Clank’s name.

Hunter came back into the room just in time to catch Hannah running off. He shouted out to her to wait, but to no avail. There was no stopping her now.

“What the hell is going on now?!” Cid was now back in the room too, looking as disgruntled as she had been earlier.

“Clank ran away!” Wrecker answered.

“Who?”

“The droid,” Tech added.

“Oh. Wait, what do you mean ‘ran away’?”

“He ran out of the parlor while we were fightin’!” Wrecker answered. “At least, that’s what I think.”

Cid scoffed. “Yeah, well I’m not surprised considering what happened.”

Hunter came up next to Cid and said, “Hannah ran out to look for him; we need to go after her.”

“Yeah, you do!” Cid exclaimed. “And bring that droid back with you too if you wanna continue doing business here.” She gave Hunter a good shove back into the parlor, then returned to her office, grumbling to herself about how ridiculous the day was going.

After a quick prompt from Hunter, everyone was outside the parlor, ready to begin their search. Hunter would have little trouble tracking either of them down, but he wanted to prioritize Hannah above all else. Maybe with luck, they’d find the droid already with her. No matter what, they were going to find her, whatever it took.

[next chapter]

[atlabeth]

nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

~

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

[extasiswings]

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

*

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.

[yanderecrazysie]

Munchausen by proxy Akaashi x y/n

Okay, so I had to look this up and I remembered that there was this irl case that they made into a movie, so a lot of this story is lowkey based on some things I remember from that story.

I probably will portray this inaccurately so please forgive me if I do! Please understand that I do not take mental health lightly and no offense is meant to anyone.

Because this usually happens between a caregiver and person in their care, I struggled with how to make that happen, since I didn’t want to make him a dad/stepdad. I eventually settled on having Akaashi be a medical caretaker of sorts and a physical therapist.

Even though there's no NSFW, in this AU the characters are adults, since it makes more sense for the plot anyways.

(Notice based on recent events: Any rude comments, “constructive criticism”, and comments to make me feel worse about my writing in any way are not wanted and will lead to the commenter/asker being blocked.)

Title: Cleanse

Pairings: Akaashi

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing, Munchausen by proxy (possibly inaccurately portrayed), controlling behavior, mentions of mild starvation (withholding food)/significant weight loss, drugging (as in giving medication the reader doesn’t need), the reader has a bad injury, Akaashi is really paranoid

Summary: You don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, other than your healing legs. Your physical therapist strongly disagrees.

cleanse

/verb/

make (something, especially the skin) thoroughly clean.

“You’re losing weight.”

It wasn’t a question nor was it something you wanted to hear. Not something you deserved to hear. Not from Akaashi, at least.

Whose fault was that? You want to ask that question. Why do you act worried when you’re the one who won’t let me eat as much?

You aren’t the type to confront others, and you’re sure that’s one reason Akaashi took advantage of your situation so easily. With your parents urging you to be grateful to him for all the extra help he gives you and the knowledge that they’re paying an obscene amount of money for him to do so makes you bite your tongue.

You’re positive that if you complained about Akaashi too much, your parents would make you pay for your own physical therapy and help you desperately needed. There’s no way in hell you could afford a physical therapist on your own with how empty your bank account is.

Internally, you cursed Akaashi. Externally, you thanked him for his concern with as little sarcasm as you could manage.

After all, he was the one that cleaned out your refrigerator and cabinets, wasting the majority of your food supplies, claiming that you were too sick to eat this or that and you couldn’t gain too much weight right now.

Why? You wanted to beg him for an answer, but you knew from experience that the answer you got wouldn’t be satisfactory. His reasoning was filled with delusions he was so adamant about you were nearly swept away by his strong beliefs.

You didn’t feel sick. The only thing wrong with you was your damn legs.

You didn’t look sick. At least, not until Akaashi started interfering with your life.

“It’s time for your medication.” Your protests fell on deaf ears as the dark-haired man opened one of the many pill bottles he’d prescribed for you.

“He’s a doctor. He knows best.” Your mom always insisted that, if he thought you needed pills, you needed pills.

But this wasn’t pain medication. It wasn’t some sort of muscle-strengthening pills for your legs. These were pills that made you feel sicker and weaker with each dosage.

He was your physical therapist, not your doctor. You were positive he wasn’t licensed to diagnose you with all the complicated, obscure diseases he’d decided you were afflicted with.

But every doctor appointment you scheduled was always mysteriously cancelled. Not that you could get there on your own. It was already hard enough to get around using your wheelchair, but with Akaashi’s misguided “healing”, you could barely move around the house on your own.

The more you weakened, the more you needed his help. And the more you needed his help, the happier he seemed. But it wasn’t just about control, you could tell that much. His worry was genuine, and he was entirely convinced that you were sick.

In a way, it was sweet. He doted on you and seemed so concerned about every change in your health. What wasn’t sweet was what his concern had turned him into.

It was a vicious cycle: his “cures” made you sicker, and you getting sicker made him try to treat your “illnesses” even more. No matter how much you tried to prove you were strong and healthy, it was never enough. And your attempts only grew less and less convincing as your health began to fail.

“I don’t need the medication,” you said, voice weak and trembling. There wasn’t a chance in hell Akaashi would listen to you, but it felt wrong to go down without a fight. Every time you followed his instructions without a word against it, it felt like you’d completely lost.

You’d always lose against Akaashi, you’d learned that long ago, but at least, this way, you could say that you tried. You could say that you said “no” and he didn’t listen to you. You could say you did your best against someone much more powerful than you were.

“You do need it,” Akaashi continued extracting pills from the bottles. He’d added another one this time, which made 22 different medications in all. “You’re sick (Y/n), I’m just doing what’s best for you.”

With your head hung low in defeat and a tear slipping down your cheek, Akaashi pried open your stubbornly clenched jaw and placed the first pill on your tongue and a glass of water at your lips, pouring it down through your helpless throat.

You choked on the liquid and capsule, fighting until the end to keep it in your mouth. Not that it would matter, when Akaashi immediately inspected the inside of your mouth, even checking under your tongue to be safe.

Your only reward for fighting back was a bitter taste. Both literally from the medication and figuratively from defeat.

“I’m doing this because I love you.” Akaashi’s voice was soft this time as he said it. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Your heart caught in your throat at those words. He’d always said “I’m doing this because I care” but this time…

He loved you?

It certainly seemed true, with the way his fingers gently carded through your hair and his lips pressed so intimately to your forehead.

He’d never shown this much affection before and, looking up at his face, his normally passive expression was screwed up with emotion. Unshed tears shone in his eyes as his grip around your waist tightened as though he couldn’t bear to let you go, even for a second.

“You need me!”

It wasn’t a suggestion nor was it a question. His desperation bled out through his tone and expression, the true terror behind his insecurities and concerns about your health felt like it was finally being shown to you clearly.

“I can’t let you die!”

Choked up with emotion, voice cracking from the conviction.

“I need you!”

Grip tightening to the point of pain, eyes wildly searching for something inside you.

“I’ll keep you safe, no matter what it takes.”

Why? Why didn’t he understand that you were safe? That you were safer before he decided that you weren’t? That his help was even worse than if he’d just left you alone?

His only job was to aid in the strengthening of your legs. The only healing he was meant to do was in your lower limbs.

How did it come to this? Why were you struggling to even move your wheelchair instead of learning to walk again?

Akaashi embraced you, tears wetting the top of your head as he whispered softly into your hair. You caught words here and there, all voicing his worries and distress.

“I think it’s time for me to move in full-time to monitor your health, don’t you?”

[writefightandflightclub]

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long. 

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.” 

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles. 

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.