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calummss · 8 months

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Bleeding into Nightfall | Klaus Mikaelson

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summary: life is gloomy and you’re tired of repetitive days that don’t get better. you say goodbye to the world forgetting about once person in paticular—niklaus mikaelson

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3k

a/n: story of my life with the love of my life

tw: heavy descriptions of depression, suicide!!!

Waking up every day was like waking up from the calm and facing the storm. Days bleeding into nightfall. Day after day starting to warp into each other, each day as listless as the day before. Mystic falls’ grey gloomy clouds constantly above your head as you managed to get out of bed. You kind of found common ground with autumn mornings. You enjoyed them more than any other morning but enjoy is a strong word for someone like you. Autumn mornings are dark that make it look like it was three in the morning. A time where nobody in this world expects a single thing from you. Just you alone existing in this world.

You brush your teeth.

Comb your hair.

Put on an outfit.

Make yourself look presentable so that nobody would be able to tell just how empty you felt. How draining it was getting ready when you could easily wear the same pair of clothes day and night. Forget about your appearance as you just try to pass the day.

Leaving the house you took one last look in the mirror with the same face you wish you could rip off, but instead you put on your best genuine smile that didn’t make you look like a manic sociopath and closed the door to make your way to school.

13 hours and 30 minutes to go.

Out of 24 hours you only feel okay for a couple. And it’s not even that you feel good, you just feel okay. You just try to get through the day. It’s been like this for a while. Time wailing past you, time wailing before you that has you trapped. You wake up. Go to school. Eat and sleep. Sometimes you don’t even eat or sleep. The easiest tasks seem impossible to complete. Why do you have to waste such a long amount of time? You’d be perfectly fine with only living eighteen years instead of eighty. You don’t do anything all day but you’re exhausted each time you lay down in bed, ready to shut your eyes. Still, you drag yourself through the day like cattle; unable to break free from what's holding you back.

The walk to school isn’t too long. Rustling leaves on trees, crunching of dead leaves that were kicked up into the air with each step you took, the thought of simply being a leaf on your mind as you barely noticed the person ahead.

‘I’m so sorry— Caroline…hi. I’m sorry,’ you lifted your head from the ground to see Caroline’s smile. ‘I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings,’

‘Yeah, I could tell.’ She gleamed, hooking her arm into yours as you continued walking the last blocks.

It was an okay walk. Your ears picking up different sounds of your surroundings as the mixture of sounds seemed to be blocking out your thoughts. It's too hard to concentrate on them.

‘Do you have anything planned for your outfit on Saturday?’ Caroline broke you from the chattering of your mind, hearing her voice bringing you back to the present.

You stared at her. Your eyes on her, your face hanging from your head as you stayed quiet, pressing your lips against each other as her smile turned to a frown.

‘Y/n, come on,’ she moaned, the sparkles in her eyes duplicating as she stared back at you. Her personality reminding you of the warmth of a fireplace on a cold evening. ‘It’s the school dance! It’s so important that we make these memories to look back on them when we’re old and wrinkly,’

‘I think I have enough memories.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean I just don’t really feel like going, that's all…’

‘Why not?’ She came to a halt, taking her arm from you so she could stand perfectly square of you, her arms folded in front of her chest as the wind blew her hair from the back.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrugged, ‘I just don’t want to go.’

‘Not even to please Klaus? I mean no offence—‘ (Caroline’s favourite way to start being offensive) ‘But no one knows what he sees in you. I mean he’s this grumpy old maniac that terrifies the vampire species and you’re just…you. A human with a normal life. A nice girl that just, in comparison to him, lives a boring life.’

‘I don’t know, Caroline,’ you huffed, picking up pace again, readjusting your school bag. Feet sluggishly bringing you forth. ‘He’s nice to me and he makes me forget certain aspects of my life but even for him I wouldn’t go.’

‘What’s wrong with you, Y/n?’ Caroline held you back again, stopping once more. ‘Are you okay? I’ve noticed that you seem off for a while now and I didn’t want to pry but I cannot hold myself back any longer. What happened? What is it that’s making you so glum all the time?’

‘I’m okay, Caroline,’ you half smiled, ‘I think I’d just rather go home and watch a movie or something.’

Caroline opened her mouth but before she could say another word you cut her off, ‘And before you offer yourself as my sleepover company, I think I’d rather be alone.’ You started walking again, the school doors only a few minutes away. ‘Besides, I know you want to be a good friend by wanting to come over but you and I both know that deep down you hoped I would say no because you want to go to the dance, and that is fine. Make those memories, Caroline! Your life has so many blank pages left to fill and I don’t want to hold you back! Go and have fun.’

Caroline immediately pulled you into a hug. Her perfume hitting your nostrils as you placed your arms around her, a quick smile forming on your lips.

‘Come on now,’ you took hold of her arm, ‘We need to get there on time otherwise Rick will have us doing detention the rest of the week.’

‘Do you think he dislikes us?’

‘No, I actually think it’s his way of showing that he cares,’ you let out a giggle that infected Caroline as you walked onto the school premises just as the bell rang for first period.

School was the same every day. Go to class. Pay attention. Write down notes. Stare outside of the window, the teacher’s voice fading into silence as your mind powered through to absent you from life.

Everyone seems so content with life? Why can’t I? What is there to be happy about?

‘Miss Jacobs, the action is here. Not outside.’ Mrs. Clark said, snapping your head to the front of the class. ‘If my class is boring you’re welcome to go outside.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Now, where was I?’

10 hours to go.

When the school bell rang for the last time, you started to clear your table and cram all your stuff into your bag, people pushing past you as everyone tried to leave. Out in the hall you quickly waved Caroline, Elena and Bonnie goodbye, ready to go home and sit in silence.

Plugging in your headphones you slowly started to walk home, music blasting through your ears and you tried to block out any sound from the world.

Trees and cars passed you, barely anyone on the pavement. You kept walking when you noticed a person in the distance; dressed in dark colours, stance confident and a face you could recognise from a mile away.

‘Hi.’ You gave him your best smile, not too much, not too little.

‘I hear there’s a school dance this saturday,’ he accompanied you towards your home. ‘I was hoping that I could ask you to the dance.’

‘I’m actually not going.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t feel like going, that’s all.’ You shared a quick glance.

His pupils dilated, eyebrows drawn together, the skin between them wrinkled. ‘Are you okay, Y/n.’ He gently grabbed a hold of your upper arm, the frequent blinking of his eyes telling you that you made him worry.

‘I’m fine,’ you chuckled, your crooked smile paired with dull, sparkless eyes not in your favour.

‘Don’t give me that bullshit.’

‘Klaus, please. I’m not in a mood to argue right now.’

‘Arguing?’ His eyebrows drew his eyebrows even closer. ‘We’re just talking.’

‘Look, Klaus.’ You stopped in your tracks, allowing yourself to stare up at his face. Lips plush, eyes squinted as his focus was on you. ‘I see that you want to go to the dance with me and if I were up to it I would, but I would just rather go home. Watch a movie. Be alone. Get away from all this,’ you sighed.

‘Okay,’

‘Okay.’ You breathed, ‘See you around, okay?’ You got on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek before walking home.

‘Yeah, see you around.’ Klaus mumbled as you were already out of earshot, leaving him confused as to what was happening to you.

6 hours to go.

When you arrived home you went straight upstairs. Throwing your bag into a corner of your room as you wasted no time to change into more comfortable clothes like your lounging outfit (a pyjama). Down the stairs you walked into the kitchen, taking a bag of doritos and a bar of chocolate from the cupboard, a glass of water to wash down the junk and placed them onto the coffee table. Snatching a blanket from the living room trunk, you made yourself comfortable and put on the TV, ready to watch the Big Bang Theory and waste your time.

‘Y/h honey,’ your mother’s heels sounded through the living room. ‘It’s date night so we’ll be home quite late.’

‘Mhm.’

‘Make sure to get some healthy carbs and protein in you too, okay darling?’

‘Yeah, mom. Have fun.’ You said, your eyes haven’t left the screen.

‘See you later.’

The door closed. Silence swept the house. Your TV the only thing that sounded within the walls. Sighing, you took a row of chocolate and let out a half-sounded giggle as you continued watching TV.

1 hour left to go.

8:50pm; it was time to go upstairs. You put away the stuff you used, made sure the windows and doors were locked and the lights turned off. The floorboard creaked with every step you took. Going into your bedroom you halted in front of your dresser, picking up the framed family portrait that you took on a trip to the family cabin on christmas day.

Your lips started pressing together, your fingers on the back of the frame scraping against the wood as a blink of your eyes let the first two tears roll down your cheek. Your heart twisted, aching with every shaky breath you took, a sting of melancholy growing inside your throat.

4 minutes to go.

You placed it back on the dresser, taking another glance at your room before taking off to the bathroom where you closed the door and took a long look in the mirror: messed up hair, red puffy eyes that blinked uncontrollably, the face of a person you never got to know.

Wiping away your tears you opened the cabinet and grabbed the packet of razors you purchased just last week in preparation for tonight.

Taking a deep breath you climbed into the bathtub, letting your back fall against the wall, a new surge of emptiness growing as you realised that you were going to be utterly alone when you went.

The cold metal pierced into your soft skin like fresh butter. The warmth of your blood no longer flowing like it normally did but instead poured onto your skin. Quiet drips spilling into the bathtub, staining your clothes on the way. Once your blood started spilling you didn’t feel any great pain, it hurt, but it was manageable. You hoped it wouldn’t, however seeing all the blood that was streaming from your cut, made your heart start to beat at immense speed.

Then the sweating started to begin. Your body was damp, head to toe and toe to head. You thought back on the days you went running. Every time you finished you’d have the same, wet, and uncomfortable sweat sitting on your skin, soaking into your clothes. A deeply unpleasant feeling started to make itself noticeable, heart pounding in your chest, throbbing with pain, but there was nothing you could do. Neither did you want to. You wanted nothing more than to disappear from the earth’s surface. You didn’t need to be here. Trapped with nowhere to go. No one would miss you. You barely had anyone but yourself and that was all you needed. Even in death you felt comforted by your own thoughts. A very strong headache, accompanied by a loud, white noise ringing almost made you regret your decision. The room spun like crazy before your vision started fading out; the ringing got louder as darkness came for you…

Klaus made his way to your house. He didn’t like the way you were acting before you left. Your behaviour hasn’t left his mind since you last spoke. He turned into your driveway and jogged up the stairs, ringing the bell to hope that you would open up to him. To let him make you feel better. To let you know that he would do anything to see you happy.

But you never answered.

‘Y/n, open the door.’ Klaus raised his voice, his fist hitting against the door.

No answer.

‘Y/n!’ He slammed the door again.

Still, nothing.

Klaus focused his hearing to see if you were home when he suddenly heard shallow breaths; breaths he knew belonged to you. Without wasting another second Klaus kicked down the door, his vampire speed taking him to the location of decreased breaths. Almost taking the bathroom door off its hinges, Klaus found you sitting in the tub; red staining your body, head hanging sideways.

‘Y/N!’ He bellowed, falling to his knees, his arms hooking under your lump torso, pulling you out of the tub. The lack of tension in your body making his heart fall into an empty pit.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Klaus’ hands grabbed the sides of your face, twisting and turning. Hoping that your eyes would flatter open and greet him with a smile. A smile he held dear to his heart. But they stayed closed, his eyes getting blurrier the longer he fought.

‘Don’t you die on me!’ Klaus bit into his wrists, placing it on your lips, letting the blood flow into your system, his shaking arm staining your lower half of your face red. ‘You do not get to die! Wake up! Wake up…’

You stayed still. Just as lifeless as before you weighed Klaus’ body to the ground, his tears falling to your chest, pulling you close as his heart ached greater than it ever had. His reason to be good went without saying goodbye, leaving him to be alone like he had been for hundreds of centuries.

Klaus has heard thousands of heartbeats stop. Seen thousands of bodies covered in blood. Thousands of dead people. He didn’t know why it was so hard to see you there when he had been through this a million times. He felt empty. Everything about you came crashing down, his hope for hearing you say his name draining into nothingness. Klaus’ breathing grew louder, his chest feeling like it was being filled with water, the same water that spilled from his lashes, staring down at someone he always put first; forever wishing he hadn’t let you go home by yourself that afternoon.

Suddenly your body jolted forwards, gasping for air. Eyes wide as you took a large gulp of air, your chest rising and falling.

‘Y/n?’ Klaus whispered, his hands back on your face. ‘Y/n, y/n, talk to me.’

You coughed in response, droopy eyes making it hard to see your surroundings, blurry vision fading into one big blob of colour.

‘Y/n, say something please…’

‘Klaus,’ you whispered so quietly, lips barely parting as you spoke.

‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes, what— what happened?’

‘What happened, Y/n?’ Klaus’ voice increased in volume.’You almost died on me!’ His tone shook.

‘Am— Am I a vampire?’ You started to come back to your old self. Your vision clearing up, your ears no longer feeling like a tunnel.

‘No, my blood just healed you.’ He caressed your head, softly stroking your hair.

‘Why did you save me?’

‘Why?’ A frown painted his lip, ‘I care about you, Y/n! So much. You don’t deserve to die. How could you leave me without saying goodbye?’

‘I didn’t want to say goodbye to you Klaus because if I would’ve looked at your face and said those words, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. It would’ve made leaving so much harder.’

‘Look at me,’ his thumb swiped across your cheek, ‘this is the face of someone who will never let you die or get hurt,’

Your heart clenched as you looked at him, tears pooling at your lower lash line. ‘Klaus—‘

‘Please promise me to not leave without saying goodbye first,’

‘You have to promise, Y/n…’

‘What makes you think I don’t want to die anymore, Klaus?’

Klaus stared back at you; empty eyes, no thoughts to be said out loud.

‘Promise me to not kill yourself, seriously? What makes you think I won’t try to do this again? I love you Klaus, I do, but my love is not bigger than my will to live.’

‘Y/n, stop talking…’

‘Why? Because you thought I’d thank you for saving me? I didn’t want to be saved, Nik! I never wanted to. All I wanted was for all of this shit to go away and you brought me back to this shit.’

‘Y/n, please,’

‘Leave.’

‘What?’

‘I said leave!’

‘No!’

‘LEAVE!’

‘NO!’

Tears started streaming down your face, ‘Fuck you, Nik.’ And you stood up to go to your room.

Klaus stayed over the next several days. Sleeping against your closed door as he tried to patch things back up. But it was your decision to make a change, and your decision to forgive him.

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barrenclan · 6 months

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sorry if this is spoilers bc we might learn more later. I'm super confused with Rainhaze's thought process. When he was saying its pointless. like. I get not wanting to go back bc he killed his mom. but what did that have to do with Asphodelpaw? Couldnt he just walk away? Did he see her and decide he wanted to be part of Defiance? And this was the tipping point to prove it? I'm super confused. Was it because if she left she'd tell someone? I assume we'll get a better explanation later?

Absolutely! I've actually been waiting for a chance to really dig into this. Like Rainhaze himself, his issue is written with a lot of confusion and uncertainty, and it's not very straight-forwardly, so I understand why his motivations are easy to miss. So here it is!

Firstly; Rainhaze as he existed in BarrenClan and Rainhaze as he is now are two very, very different beasts. Obviously he's still the same person, but he's gone through a mountain of trauma, violence, and was forced to confront the fact that if pressed, he would kill a family member - even his own mother. Sure, in the moment he was threatened into doing it, but it opens the possibility that he'd even do that. Maybe he would've done anything to protect his family then, but it's been a long time.

Then, over many months, he's subjected to propaganda, murder, and terrible treatment. His mental state from where he was when he killed Dustfeather is massively changed. He's depressed, listless, and much more willing to kill. Not only that, but Defiance propaganda has worked on him.

(Issue 24)

With so much constant killing in his life, and being constantly vulnerable, he begins to see death as a good thing. Something that ends suffering, something that doesn't really matter in the end.

(Issue 28)

So now we're at Issue 31. Rainhaze is in a "doldrum", like Ranger says (a period of inactivity or lethargy). He's so torn between his new life and new beliefs, and his old regrets and old connections to BarrenClan, that he's basically attempting to end his own life through inactivity. Ranger doesn't want this. Here's his plan:

Ranger knows that BarrenClan lives opposite the forest, across the prairie. He specifically orders Rainhaze to "kill something", planting that idea in his mind. He's hoping that Rainhaze will find one of his Clan members, and make the decision to kill one of them. This would push Rainhaze over into whatever full breakdown Ranger wants, and solidify his ties to Defiance. And that is what happens. So why did Rainhaze make that decision?

We already have the basis of an incredibly traumatized Rainhaze. He views himself as he is now, and who he used to be, as different people. And he belives that's completely beyond redemption.

Yes, all those months ago he promised he was suffering in Defiance for his family and Clan, but it's really hard to hold onto those noble morals when you're being put through hell every day. Rainhaze hasn't even seen his family in months. They don't seem real to him anymore.

Then he is finally confronted by Asphodelpaw, the symbol of everything he's put himself through torture to protect, and all he wants to do is go back to Defiance. And here we go, getting to these lines;

Rainhaze is a coward.

He's separated from Deepdark and Ranger, by at least several days. He could absolutely come home with Asphodelpaw and warn all of BarrenClan - they could evacuate in time, be far away by the time Defiance arrives on their territory. But then he'd have to face his family, face his sister whose mother he violently murdered. Have to stand there and have them look at him and know him and see the scars on his body.

When he says, "this is vile, pointless, irredeemable, monstrous", he understands that killing Asphodelpaw is a disgustingly cruel action. He knows that. He understands that he's choosing Defiance over her, and over them. But that's the choice he feels he needs to make to protect himself. He's not thinking about his family any more.

So he does something so completely vicious and irredeemable that he is forced to choose Defiance. Because there's no way that any BarrenClan cat would forgive him for this. There's no way he would forgive himself for this.

And thus, Rainhaze figures himself out, and burns every other bridge entirely. He makes his choice.

#ask #rainhaze #analysis #raz goes insane about rainhaze: the post

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yoonia · 2 months

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter xvi

⟶ Chapter summary | The many layers of mysteries that are present in the home castle are beginning to feel daunting. But the biggest mystery of all may have been about your magic. After your last encounter with Yoongi and finding yourself in a predicament which further questions the secret behind your family’s magic, you try to find ways to find your own solutions to grow stronger, to gain control of your magic, only to constantly being face with one obstacle after another.

⟶ Author’s Note | It took me a while to finish this part, so forgive me for my absence. I’m splitting what was supposed to be the filler in chapter 16 into two separate chapters because there’s going to be a lot of information dump happening and I don’t want to confuse everyone. So please don’t be surprised with the short chapter(s) coming. Thank you for your patience and have fun reading! [Ps. This is highly unedited so I’m sorry if there’s any mistake]

chapter xvi. respite

Quite some time has passed since the first time you began using the magic portals, long since you have arrived in this castle and learned about the existence of magic in this realm, and you are slowly beginning to notice the changes happening with your body.

It seems to you that the more you are using the portals, the easier your body becomes affected by their magic. Just as how you seem to be getting more sensitive to the flow of magic that is a part of the portals.

Returning from Grimm had costed you quite a predicament. Once again, the journey had drained your energy that you slept through the night and nearly woke up late the next morning after your return. Even the palace maids who have been tending to your needs since the day you came to the castle had become so concerned, thinking that perhaps you have gone ill.

It wasn’t until later in the evening when you figured out the reason why you have been feeling a deep fatigue coursing through your body each time you returned from your excursions. Not until the moment the royal physician was brought to see you after a full day of being listless, with barely any energy for you to have a meal.

The royal physician took his time examining your body thoroughly, yet once he deliberated his assessment, you were quickly taken by surprise, not expecting to hear him talk about your mana and how it had everything to do with the reason why you were feeling sluggish and drained.

“It seems to me that you have exhausted your mana. Have you perhaps been using it excessively as of late, Your Highness?”

“I—no, not that I recall. I haven’t done much but study with my tutor and keep myself busy with royal duties,” you simply answered as you laid back against the pillows, refraining from admitting openly that you hadn’t even begun training on how to wield your magic, much less to start getting to know about it at all.

You had no idea how much most of the people within the home castle have learned about you, or if any of them ever knew anything about your previous life at all. Particularly about your life back at The Citadel, back in the human realm where magic didn’t exist. You also had no idea if there was anyone within the castle who may have learned about the family’s magic and the responsibility that had been placed upon you to protect the secret behind the magic.

A part of you wished that you could have said something about it. Because maybe then you could find someone to help you solve the things you had wished to know. To find someone to confide in.

Someone who belonged in the castle, who was trusted by the King himself, instead of confiding to a member of the mercenary army suspected to pose a threat to the empire.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to stop thinking about this—to stop thinking just how dependent you were becoming to the handsome and mysterious stranger that you probably shouldn’t trust—just as the royal physician shared with you another theory while being oblivious to your trailing thoughts.

“Then perhaps your body is having problems adjusting to the castle. The magic barrier that His Majesty, The King, has placed here is quite strong. It must have been draining your energy as you come in contact with it, or—” the physician stopped himself as he deliberated the issue further while rubbing at his chin. But then he suddenly started shaking his head, as if brushing away those thoughts with his lips curling downward in displeasure.

“No,” he began wondering to himself, brushing away whatever thought crossing through his mind as he murmured, “I doubt that His Majesty’s magic would feed on your mana. The barrier surrounding the castle would require a power source, but I can’t see anyone else other than His Majesty who would be powerful enough to provide such energy.”

That can happen? You couldn’t help but wonder. Has your father’s magic been feeding on your mana?

But that sounds—so terribly wrong.

Just as these thoughts continued to run rampant in your head, a faint tingle ran through your forearm while you were being examined, and you couldn’t help but remember how similar it felt to the sensation coursing through you whenever you walked through the magic portals.

Had it really been the reason? Have you been right for thinking that perhaps the magic portals have been draining your mana, your energy, feeding off your magic that had been lying dormant within you?

Is this why Father had insisted that I only use the portal only once a day and not more, and to not stay any longer than the time limit that he had given?

Or had it been the other way around? What if it has always been my mana which activated those portals, while the keys have only been the medium to help open the doors?

Clearing his throat, the royal physician brought your attention back to him as he gently reassured you, “I will leave you with some remedy and a special potion to help strengthen your mana and help you rest for the night until your body recovers enough. I will also leave a list of nutritions that could be added to your meal. It may help you heal faster if your body receive the proper sustenance needed for your recovery. I shall leave it in the hands of your personal maids so they could hand them to the royal chef.”

Your mind was still stuck in his previous comment and your own assessment of the condition that you found yourself in that you barely paid attention to his words, although you were still able to answer him with a soft murmur, “Thank you, Sir.”

The physician said nothing else after. “In the meantime, please don’t strain yourself too much, Your Highness. You have quite a delicate constitution which may require a lot of care,” he inquired, before softly adding, “I am sure that His Majesty would prefer that you take care of yourself well until he returns home.”

You said nothing other than gratitude to the royal physician as he made his leave, allowing you some privacy and enough time to have your much-needed rest. Yet the silence that you were left with couldn’t stop you from spending the night wondering, thinking back to everything that he said; about your mana being drained without you realising it.

Looking down at your hands as you kept them rested on your lap, you slowly opened your palms. There hadn’t been enough books in the library that could have given you any clue on how to make use of your mana and practice your magic.

You could only figure this out simply because you had tried to look. Out of all the magic books that you had been digging into in the library outside of your tutoring hours, you had found little to nothing that was written about any magic that may conjure portals. At the very least, nothing that seemed similar to the magic that your father had cast in these portals.

And there had been nothing other than the old scriptures you found about ancient fairies and their ability to move between space and time that sounded similar to those portals. Although there were mentions of these ancient beings traveling to many different parts of the realm, even crossing between realms.

But what if there was something in those scriptures that could explain about the source of your father’s magic? Had there been something in those texts that you had missed?

That night, as you slowly drifted into sleep under the effect of the potion that had been given by the physician, you made a promise to yourself to return to those scriptures and learn more about the magic that was written in them. You fell asleep that night feeling hopeful, determined to find the roots of your father’s magic.

Perhaps, with a little more digging, you would find the reason why he had left you with such a huge responsibility of keeping this magic as a secret, while setting things in motion to have you venturing into those portals and to walk across the parts of the world hidden behind them so blindly.

Perhaps, you could also find the answer to one of the biggest secrets that he has been keeping from you and everyone else for years.

The secrets about your mother.

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

Yoongi’s voice echoes through your mind as if it bounces against the invisible walls standing all around you.

The words that he gave you seems to have been engraved in your memory ever since the day you met him in Grimm, and they keep haunting you both in your dreams and during your waking hours. It has been a couple of days since, yet it still feels like yesterday when you parted ways with Yoongi in the dark forest of Grimm.

Since then, you have been overcome with a deep feeling of regret.

The regret for not being able to have more time to spend with him. The regret of not being able to catch his sight, to be completely helpless as you watch him getting swallowed under the thick foliage, held back by fear that had a tight grip in your chest.

And you also feel the regret that always comes to haunt you whenever you recall about the offer that he made that day. When he reached out to you, offering to assist you in learning more about your magic. You hate thinking that you might have missed out on a chance to figure out your magic.

But it couldn’t be helped, after all, when your father’s voice—repeating the same words and warnings about how important it was to keep the family’s magic a secret—kept echoing through your head while you were staring at Yoongi’s extended hand which he offered you that day. You had felt the itch to reach out to him, to accept his hand, even if it was only for the sake of feeling the gentle touch of his fingers on yours instead of actually having him help awaken the magic that was lying dormant inside you.

Yet you just couldn’t do it.

And now you are left with the constant wonderings—all the what ifs and what could haves—while the long list of regrets that are still lingering with you becomes the reason why you keep seeing in in your dreams.

The dreams are never the same.

In one dream, you recounted the moment you refused his offer. Only this time, you had stepped away from him at the tavern, choosing to end your time together earlier than what you had intended to so you could escape his attentive eyes. In another, you haven’t even heard the same words spoken by Yoongi before his image vanished right in front of your eyes.

But there was one particular dream that appeared so vividly that you continued to see it even during the daytime, taking over your idle mind with his presence as if you were taken back to that moment, when you sat right across from him with his deep, unwavering gaze locked on yours.

“I might have to show it to you to prove it…”

You never truly understood what he meant by saying those words, but in this dream of yours, none of it mattered. And your father’s voice hadn’t been there to stop you from leaning forward at the table to give him your rapt attention. Your mind was also silent, and the thunderous sound of your heartbeat faded away when you spoke to him,

“How?”

“Give me your hand.”

Time seemed to remain still as you reached out to him, giving him your hand. You barely touched the tips of his fingers when something magical happened; as a bright sparks of silver dust light up between both of your hands, with specks of blue dust erupting the moment you made contact with his skin, and the same tingling sensation that you had often felt from the portals came surging through your arms before settling inside your chest.

Before your mind could ever make sense of what was happening, the light only grew brighter, and everything faded under its blinding glow which later pulled you away from the dream. And as you slowly woke up, finding yourself lying on your bed alone, nothing else remained from the dream, except for the tingles running across your skin which took their sweet time to fade away.

Stepping out of the treasure room, you clutch the golden pocket watch in your palm, feeling victorious that you finally have it in your hand.

You had come to the treasure room right before your afternoon lessons with your tutor, hoping that you would be able to find anything that might be useful for your next trip through the portals. Your father had been right, after all, that the treasure room may provide you with anything that you may need to support your daily activities while you adjust with your new life at the castle.

Like a pocket watch, for example.

Something that is so small and simple, yet crucial for the sake of your safety while you are out there, roaming through any foreign land that the portals are taking you.

Why have I never thought of this before?

You cannot help but wonder as you look down at the ticking watch in your hand, regretting that you didn’t think of getting one in the first place. It could have saved you a lot of trouble if you had.

The last couple of trips you made had been risky, as you kept cutting it too close to the time limit that had been given to you by your father, only missing merely minutes or even seconds before the portal started closing behind you after you slipped back through.

You had nearly gotten into a bigger trouble when you returned from Grimm, almost missing a toe when you barely managed to return to the portal before it closed on you. You blame it to your impulse need of chasing Yoongi into the deep forest when you started to feel like he was slipping away from and disappearing for good.

It was after that incident when you finally learned your lesson and decided that something needed to change. That you would need something to hold onto which may help you to keep up with the time, instead of simply relying on the signs of dusk as a reminder to let you know when it was time to return home.

The idea first came to you after observing Lord Gordan, the royal aide and the head butler of the castle, while he was working on his duties. You had often seen him pulling out a golden watch from the pocket of his suit to help him tell the time, and wondered if it would be something that you could make use of.

After receiving the royal physician’s approval to return to your daily duties this morning, you feel like you are ready to embark on another adventure. With this golden pocket watch in your hand, the magic necklace that had been passed down to you from your late mother, and the dagger hidden under the skirt of your dress, you feel as if you are unstoppable, ready to face anything that may come to your path as you walk through the portal later once your tutoring hours are over.

Now if you only could just find a way to calm the restless thrums of your heartbeat inside your tight chest, then everything would be well. That is all that you could only hope for, at the very least, as you make your way to your tutoring lesson.

Because what better way to find answers other than to gain them straight from the people who are in charge of teaching you everything that is needed to learn as the heir of throne? Who else would know the answers you need, other than your tutors?

“You want to—” Lady Laurel carefully repeats your question. She is looking slightly wary to even voice it out loud, even if it is just the two of you in the library that her voice is lowered when she continues, “—practice using your magic?”

You have only been away from the library for a couple of days while you were resting, only keeping contact with Lady Laurel by corresponding through letters and the books that she had left behind through your personal maids for you to read.

Today would be the first day that you are back with your daily lectures. You could tell from the moment you saw Lady Laurel sitting by the study desk in the library as she waited for you to arrive that she had a lot of things planned out to keep you busy for the day.

But you have come up with your own plan when you marched your way to the library.

For weeks now, Lady Laurel had filled your private lessons with lectures about the fairy tale land to get you to know this new realm a lot more. So far, you have learned about its history, about the kingdoms and the people, even the non-human beings that you may find should you ever have the chance to visit those lands—elves, fairies, werewolves, even human mages—and you have heard about the real events that are the makings behind all the tales known and shared in the human realm.

During those long weeks, Lady Laurel had also been teaching you the basic knowledge of magic; the types of magic that you may encounter and each of their origins, the history behind them, and the ancient spells that have been written in the textbooks that you have found in the library during your solo studying.

She was also the one who first taught you to find a way to identify your mana.

She had mentioned how it would be helpful in the future should you start using your magic, as you would have become familiar to the mana flowing inside you by the time you begin your magic practices. If only she knew with what you have been doing once you were done with her lessons, how you have been using the theories that she had taught you into practice once you were left on your own.

There has been nothing much that Lady Laurel could teach you in her lessons other than the ability to reach within, to feel the presence of your magic and have a good grip on it, to recognise it as a part of yourself instead of something that simply appeared in your body overnight. But your solo practices that you have been doing in the shelter of your bedchamber had taken it a step further, enhancing it until you could make use of it to recognise and then respond to the magic that exists around you.

Just like the way you had used it to respond to the magic in the portals and to recognise Yoongi’s inner mana.

Yet that is just as far as both of you could get. You could tell that there are restrictions that your tutors would need to follow when they are guiding you through your lessons. Because not once had she ever tried to do more; whether it was to help you unleash the magic inside you, nor to use it by conjuring the magic for a purpose.

But you want more. You have been ready for more. And after your last encounter with Yoongi, you have gained the courage to express your desire to learn how to properly use your magic more actively. To learn how to expel its powers and make use of it for your own benefit.

And that is exactly what you said to your tutor the moment you joined her at the library’s study area, as you were taking the seat right across from her as you usually would during your tutoring hours.

Keeping your eyes on Lady Laurel, you try to gauge her reaction. Even from the moment you had first thought of bringing this up to her, you had expected to have an intense response from her, and for her to straight up refuse your request.

And you have been prepared to deal with whatever the outcome may be, knowing that you are not going to back down that easily.

“Yes, that is exactly what I said,” you answer her with your chin raised, feeling determined about taking the next step into learning how to use your magic. “I want you to teach me how to unlock my magic and help me practice using it, instead of just trying to feel it. Because I already know that it’s there, lying almost dormant inside me without me knowing how to use it to protect the people who are dear to me, which is something that I want to be able to do.”

These thoughts have been running through your head for the past few days while you were being holed up in your bedchamber under the royal physician’s restrictions. The feeling of want and the deep curiosity you have to know more about your magic, to be able to reach within yourself so you could somehow wield it so that you could make good use of it, has been growing stronger that you can no longer deny it.

That need had been lingering in your thoughts that it was almost impossible for you to remain idle during your bedrest, and you had then taken the risk to secretly try to find ways to unlock your magic on your own.

You just couldn’t help it, after all. When you had nothing else to fill your time with aside from watching the scenery outside of your windows and reading the pages of your books, until neither could easily calm the havoc happening inside your mind. So you stole the short chances you could get between the hours you were given to rest under the heavy medication and the constant flurry of lady maids coming and going into your room as they attended to your needs.

Using the vivid images of your dreams, the basic knowledge of magic that you learned through your lectures, and the small facts about your magic that you learned from Yoongi as your guidance, you had spent your quiet nights trying to get in touch with the magic that was believed to be coursing through your body.

You tried everything you could; from using your necklace to see if it could bring out the mana inside you, to copying Yoongi’s action which you saw in your dreams, by placing your hands together to see if it could bring out your magic.

But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate and tried to cast your magic out through your fingertips, nothing seemed to be happening. Nothing more but a surge of energy crawling its way from your palms, through your fingers, stopping at each tip, before they vanished into your veins.

And you continued to try, until there was nothing left but the exhaustion rolling through your body and the missing warmth of Yoongi’s hand which your body seemed to have memorised from that day and what you are now craving to feel the most.

Having to openly ask your tutor for her help had been your last resort, knowing that she has her limits to what kind of guidance that she could offer you in learning about magic. Yet you had every reason to harbour some hope that she would somehow comply with your request.

Oftentimes, whenever you would try to inquire about any specific theories to learn about during your lectures, Lady Laurel would have embraced it—she has always loved your curiosity and your eagerness to learn—and grabbed any chance that she could have to share any knowledge about the realm that you were still struggling to understand.

This time, however, she seems uneasy to hear your request. Not because she is reluctant to teach you about magic, as she has been doing so ever since the first day she started her lessons. What seems to make her reluctant about this is the fact that you are asking her to help you learn about your magic.

With a remorseful sigh, Lady Laurel leans forward in her seat. Reaching out across the desk, she places a gentle grip on your wrist. “Your Highness, I’m sure that you are curious to learn more about your magic,” she begins with a polite smile, “But His Majesty had specifically inquired—”

Before she can finish her words, you immediately cut her off.

“I know what my father said”—as you have repeatedly said each time I tried to bring this topic up before, you silently wonder with a frown—”but His Majesty has yet to return, while here I am, feeling like my soul is slowly being sucked out of my body without understanding why. Maybe if I could control my magic, things will be different and I’d know how to prevent something like this from happening again.”

Through the letters that you have been exchanging with your tutor, you had explained everything that the royal physician had relayed on you about your condition.

At first, you simply mentioned about your draining mana in your letter to try and ask for her opinion to see if this was something that could possibly happen. Without mentioning the secret doors and the magic portals in your letter, you questioned her if there was anything that you may have come in contact with which might be able to drain your mana without you ever realising it.

The response that you were given with hadn’t been enough to answer your curiosity. But there was something in her letter which caught your attention, when she explained in a rather plain sentence—

“There are certain elements that have been built all over the castle, each one imbued with His Majesty’s magic. Perhaps, with His Majesty being gone, these elements have been trying to find a new source of energy. I have highly suspected that your magic might be similar to that is of the King’s, which made it possible for the energy around you to mistakenly drain your mana to fill whatever they are lacking.”

“You know very well the reason why I would have to refuse taking over your magic training, Your Highness,” Lady Laurel regretfully says as she pulls back. You hate how genuine she seems to be as she is saying all of this, about the regret of not being able to fulfil your wishes, as she is being held under the King’s orders.

It wouldn’t be until later when you notice the unspoken words hidden perfectly in her response, that she isn’t refusing your request because she isn’t capable of doing so. Because she is capable. But she is also bound under your father’s rules when it comes to your lessons.

“All I can do without His Majesty’s guidance would be to guide you to become in tune with the mana that you have inside you, preparing you for the actual training that you are about to have under the King’s guidance himself,” she continues, and just like that, she turns to pick up the guidance textbook and the set of candles that she would use during these sessions, ready to start another one of her practices that she has been introducing you as of late. “We can continue to do that today and see how far ahead we can go this time. The last time we did—”

Once again, you cut off her words before she could finish talking. “The last time we had our lesson, you were helping me identify my mana and how to channel onto it so I could feel its flow inside me.”

And to recognise it without exposing your magic form. Something that you have caught on after a while and seems to be one of the main tasks given to her when your father passed down the duty of tutoring you while he is gone. But you say nothing of this.

After all, if you are trying to convince her to change her mind and sneak behind the King’s orders to fulfil your wishes, the last thing you should do is to show her that you have figured out all of her cards—the little tricks that she had played to skirt around the subject of your magic.

You may never figure out the reason behind all the secrecy about the family’s magic, or why your father would prevent anyone from helping you in unlocking your magic without his presence. But oddly enough, the more you think about it, the more you understand why your father would take such measures.

The magic that he uses to create the portals wouldn’t have been a regular kind of magic. You can tell that it is something special, something that your father has treasured for a long time, even before you ever came into the world.

But would your magic be anything similar to what your father has, just like what Lady Laurel previously claimed? Would you be able to create your own portal one day to find your own escape?

As if answering your question, Lady Laurel gently speaks to you, “I know that you are curious, and the lessons that you have been getting so far no longer seems to adequate to your needs, as you have gotten enough of the basic knowledge that you could gain in such a short amount of time. All I can ask of you is for you to be patient for now. His Majesty will be returning soon, and he will be able to guide you with your magic and answer a lot of your questions.”

As much as you hate backing down, you realise that you have no other choice—at this moment, at least—but to give up, and follow your tutor’s advice.

“I suppose, I can be a little more patient,” you finally say to her with a sigh.

Your acceptance seems to please her, as a smile grows on Lady Laurel’s face. She beams as she rings the bell to summon the maids for a serving of tea and snacks to accompany your lesson, just like always. And while in waiting, she continues to set up all the books of magic that she would need for your lesson, followed by lighting up the set of candles that she has laid out in front of you.

“Let’s continue with our practice on your focus today,” Lady Laurel says to you as she returns to her seat while gesturing you to keep your eyes on the flickering flames. The same way that she has always guided you during your focus training.

This practice might be far off from helping to unlock your magic, yet you still have to admit that this practice may have been quite helpful so far. Because it was through this practice that you had inadvertently figured out one of the skills that you have developed ever since you started learning about magic.

The skill which allows you to trace and identify others’ mana; be it within a person or a place.

The same skill that you revealed to Yoongi the last time you were together.

As you try to empty your mind and focus on the flickering candlelights, the dejected feeling that came over you earlier is slowly being lifted when you remember that this day is still far from ending, and you still have other tutors to turn to.

So you try to make it through the end of your lecture, doing your best with your simple training, Even if it only means that you will be walking out of here in the afternoon with sharpened focus. Perhaps it might be able to help you later by preventing you from falling asleep too soon if you ever decide to try to unlock your magic on your own again.

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batty4steddie · 5 months

Text

Can I Keep It?

Chapter 2: Stupid Hunk

The early afternoon at Family Video was so boring. No one was coming in to rent or return movies. Steve had finished all the grunt work. Rentals that came back that morning were rewound if the customer hadn’t done it already. Everything had been put back in its place, and he had straightened up the store.

Usually, Steve enjoyed the free time getting paid to do nothing, but he was feeling listless about work and his love life.

Now, he was just leaning against the counter, playing with Eddie’s skull ring. He had been keeping it under the counter for when Eddie came back to return A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge or if he saw Dustin.

Steve found it fit perfectly on his ring finger and considered not giving it back.

He had a date tonight. He was taking Brenda to the basketball game. He wasn’t sure about her. She was gorgeous but even denser than him. Maybe it was the blonde box dye that had fried her brain.

The game was almost more exciting than the prospect of getting laid. He’d totally fucked up the year before and had lost state for Hawkins. It had been the cherry on top of not getting into college. Steve was looking forward to redemption for the team and a win for Sinclair.

When the phone rang, Steve answered it within a few rings. It was Dustin wanting him to come play D&D. Yeah, right. He would never socially recover from that.

Steve looked at the ring, spinning it around with his thumb. It chafed a little that Dustin thought he was jealous of Eddie. He absolutely was not. “I’m not cancelling my date with Bombshell Brenda. Sorry, Dustin. You and the freak can have fun without me.”

Steve was relieved when two hot customers walked in, giving him a reason to hang up.

Eddie sat on the bus. It was the last one running, and nobody else was on it except himself and the bus driver. He’d abandoned his van back at the trailer—too conspicuous. What happened was fucked. It was so fucked.

He made a noise of distress, picking his feet up off the ground and curling up into as small a ball as possible on the dirty carpeted seat. His eyes went glassy, locked wide in fright. The driver gave him a wary glance from his rearview mirror.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie had barely moved. The bus lurched to a stop, and the driver cleared his throat. “End of the line,” he said.

A few seconds passed. There was no motion from the back.

“Hey!” he said louder. “I said end of the line. You gotta get off, kid.”

That jolted Eddie. He stood on wooden legs and stumbled to the side door, pushing it open and stepping outside. The doors hissed closed, and the bus chugged away and turned around the corner, leaving him alone on the barren road.

There were no streetlights here. Nobody was around.

Eddie started walking briskly, glancing over his shoulder constantly.

When he reached a fork in the road, he stopped and stared into the depths of the woods. Cutting through it was the closest way to his dealer’s house. It was the only place he could go that he knew would be safe from the cops, who would no doubt be coming after him for the fucking death of Chrissy Cunningham. He didn’t know if it would be safe from whatever the fuck had attacked Chrissy.

Eddie stepped off the road and onto the dirt with a trembling breath.

The branches of the trees were long, spindly, and black. He should have heard the rustle of animals scurrying around and insects buzzing. He should have heard the wind off the lake. It was too quiet and too still. He could only hear his breath and the soft whimpers rising from his throat that he couldn’t control.

He started to run. He ran faster than he ever had before. He ran like somebody was chasing him because it felt that way. It felt like he was being watched, hunted.

His lungs gave out long before he did. Eddie was dripping sweat and heaving when he finally reached Rick’s place. The security light was on and casting a cold glow on the ground that wasn’t very welcoming, but at least he was out of the dark.

Eddie didn’t have a key to Rick’s house, and he didn’t want to break in and leave evidence that he was there or risk someone seeing him. A key to the boathouse was hidden in a flowerpot on the back windowsill. Eddie went around, grabbed it and jammed it in the door, having to try three times before he unlocked it because his hands were shaking so badly.

There was no light inside, except for the scant amount coming from the windows and the moon off the lake. Eddie whimpered again, every creak in the floor and every shadow on the walls making him jump.

“Fucking relax, you coward,” he said hoarsely. The volume of his voice almost made him jump, too.

Miracle of all miracles, he found a case of beer on one of the shelves. He drank two of them. It didn’t do much to calm him. Mostly, it just made him feel nauseous and dizzy.

He still saw Chrissy’s body levitating in the air, her bones cracking to unnatural angles, her eyes sucking back into the caverns of her skull.

Eddie climbed into the boat and curled up under the blue tarp, scrunching his eyes shut as he tried to force the images away. The tarp made crinkling noises as he continued to shake, but eventually, his breath slowed. The adrenaline crash hit him, and he passed out.

But he wasn’t out for long, plagued by nightmares that made him toss and turn in the boat, getting twisted up in the tarp. The third time he woke up screaming, he stopped trying to sleep.

Eddie didn’t do much of anything when morning came. He tried to calm himself by going outside and sitting on the dock. It was a sweet relief to feel the warmth and safety of the daylight, but since it was the weekend, there were people out boating, and he had to retreat to the darkness.

He looked through Rick’s things and took an inventory of everything there. Most of it was junk and fishing gear, but there was a first aid kit and some old food in a cooler he could survive on. He couldn’t risk going to a store. He should have packed a backpack, but he hadn’t prepared anything. All he did was run. All he did was leave Chrissy.

Eddie hacked open a can of expired SpaghettiOs when his stomach started cramping, scarfing them down ravenously and cutting his tongue on the jagged tin. He devoured a Big Hunk bar, saving the other two for later like they were precious gems.

Looking at them reminded him of the video store and Steve. To think, he had been worried about finishing his trig homework. When now… now , look where he was. Eddie buried his face in his hands with a hysterical laugh.

That night, Eddie started hallucinating. The isolation was getting to him.

Chrissy’s deformed body kept manifesting in different places. Once on the ceiling, another time in the boat with him under the tarp, and another time while he was outside taking a piss. She tried to talk to him, but her jaw was broken, so it came out like a long, guttural groan. Eddie had never started sobbing with his dick in his hand before. That was a first he wished never to repeat.

When the sun went down and the darkness hit yet again, Eddie was so delirious he could barely differentiate the floor from the ceiling. He heard voices yelling outside.

They sounded, strangely, like his Hellfire Club gang. That sounded like Dustin’s voice. But that couldn’t be. It was a trick. It wasn't real.

Eddie broke one of his empty beer bottles on the side of the boat and then jumped into it, hiding under the tarp.

So, not only had Steve’s date been a total flop, but he’d been roped into going to Lover’s Lake and aiding in the search and rescue mission of Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t sure that Eddie was innocent in all of this. Of course, Steve believed in all that constitutional shit—innocent until proven guilty—but the freak thing he couldn’t shake despite Eddie’s sweetness and sweet tooth he had witnessed the other night in the store.

Still, he didn’t put up too much of a fight. He’d help. He always helped.

When they arrived at the boat house on Lover’s Lake, Dustin rang the doorbell in quick succession. Steve was more than willing to walk away when they didn't get an answer—mainly because it was super spooky, and it felt like they shouldn’t be there.

Dustin wasn’t willing to give up that easily.

Something was trying to get Eddie. Poking, prodding—one smack would have landed right on the family jewels had it been just an inch to the left. Eddie remained silent as the voices continued. They changed to a buzzing drone that grew louder and louder in his ears.

The poking stopped.

Mustering a burst of courage, Eddie sprang out of the boat and backed his attacker up against the wall, shoving him there and pressing the jagged glass to his throat.

Steve couldn’t feel the pain. He was too frightened. He tried not to breathe because the broken glass was too close. His eyes were wide as he watched Eddie. Eddie tightened his grip, which scared him more, and it got harder for him to breathe. He couldn’t believe Eddie was about to stab him in the throat.

One second, Eddie was holding what seemed to be a normal person, then it was Chrissy and her black hole eyes, and then some indiscernible creature barring its teeth at him. He pressed the edges of the bottle harder against its neck until Dustin convinced him they were who they said they were.

A scent invaded Eddie’s nose. He smelled… coconut?

Everything came into better focus, along with the frightened expression on Steve’s face. Chrissy and the monster temporarily vanished. Eddie could feel the frantic pulse beating away in Steve’s neck under his fingers, but he was still suspicious and let them all know it.

It took some more convincing from Dustin, Robin, Steve, and the redhead, Max, whom Eddie recognized as Billy Hargrove’s sister, who had moved in next to them with her mom after Billy died in the mall fire.

Finally, Eddie let go.

He slowly slid down the wall. His hands were trembling again. Dustin reached out to take the bottle from him, face morphing into something sinister. Eddie flinched as it quickly disappeared, and he was just Dustin again, the goofy, smartass little sheep Eddie had herded into his D&D club.

Steve stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and gently thumbed Eddie’s ring, trying to calm down after all that. He didn’t feel like giving the ring back anymore. If Eddie knew he had it, there was a possibility he could think Steve had stolen it. Then maybe he actually would kill him.

Eventually, Steve calmed as the others got Eddie to tell them what had happened.

Eddie tried not to cry as he attempted to keep his fragile hold on reality. There was no way they'd believe him if he told them the truth. They would probably pretend they did, and then, as soon as they had his guard down, they would knock him out and take him straight to the police station.

His eyes went glassy again as he started telling them everything. Even the part where he was a fucking coward who ran.

Then he learned about the Upside Down.

Monsters were real. Monsters were actually real, and they were way less cool than they should have been. Eddie was still trying to wrap his head around it while the three questioned him.

Robin was watching him closely, and Eddie felt exposed. He had a real-life encounter with something otherworldly, and “run” had been his final choice. He’d failed, and the princess had died.

Nearly getting his throat slashed had shaken Steve up. After a little while, he felt grounded again. Especially once he heard what happened to Chrissy. He kept his arms crossed as he watched Eddie and listened to him tell them what happened.

It was harder to hear than he expected. What Eddie witnessed was brutal. There was literally nothing he could’ve done about it. He knew if it sounded this awful, seeing it in person must have been terrifying. Steve didn’t understand why Eddie was beating himself up for leaving her there. He didn’t know what it was, what it was capable of or if it was coming for him next.

That didn’t change the fact that he was suspect number one. Steve was glad they didn’t bring the police into this, even though he had suggested it earlier.

The sting of Dustin favoring Eddie over him lingered from earlier, but Steve chilled out. While it seemed like and felt like Eddie was going to kill him, he hadn’t, and he wouldn’t have killed Chrissy. He had been scared and was too sweet… like the candy he’d bought at the video store the other night. It was clear the Upside Down had gotten to her somehow in the form of a killer monster.

Now that they had found Eddie and figured out what had happened to Chrissy, they could make a plan. Unfortunately for Steve, the first plan involved babysitting, and this time, it wasn’t the kids.

They were leaving when Dustin asked Steve to stay with Eddie. “If I can’t stay, you should. Seriously though, fuck this. Mom will be fine. She won’t worry if I don’t come home for one measly night.”

That was a lie, and his shifty eyes said it all.

“Dustin, look, man… Eddie is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He has a weapon that he almost slit my throat with, remember? You think he needs a babysitter?” Steve shook his head. Technically, he was already babysitting Dustin and Max. He had to make sure they got home safe with this Vecna creep going around breaking people’s bones and killing them. “We can come back tomorrow. We’ll bring him some stuff he needs, like food and water. He can’t live off beer for long. Plus, we’re the only ones that know he’s here. He’s safe for now.”

Dustin accepted his no since Steve promised they’d come back. Part of Steve did feel bad for Eddie.

Eddie’s cheeks burnt as he overheard their conversation through the open door.

While he appreciated that Steve had saved face for him, it was humiliating for Dustin to suggest it. For a kid to think someone younger than him needed to keep watch over him. Babysitter? Fuck. Even worse, Eddie’s heart was pounding again, and his breath quickened because he was about to be alone again.

Robin was still watching him with her observant owl eyes. When he looked at her, she handed him her flashlight with a sympathetic smile before joining the group outside. Eddie clutched it too tightly and gave her a half-hearted salute, grateful for the small comfort.

After the door shut, he heard the engine rumble as the car started and the quiet as the noise moved further and further away.

“Don’t,” he told his tear ducts fiercely because they were welling up again. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

This was all just… way too fucking much.

Eddie returned to the boat with the flashlight, sitting cross-legged with it in his lap for a few long minutes as he got his sniffles under control. The flashlight flickered, making his heart flutter, but it stayed on after he smacked the base violently with his palm.

Steve seemed like a brave dude. Braver than him, at least, to have been dealing with this other world for so long, these real-life fucking monsters, all while he lived his everyday life and worked at the video store. He was more than just the vain bully of a jock Eddie had pegged him as. Maybe. He bet Steve wouldn’t have let Chrissy get put under a curse. He would have done something to stop that from happening to her.

Eddie picked up a Big Hunk bar and opened it, drowning his feelings in corn syrup and peanuts. “Stupid hunk,” he muttered, taking a big bite, “being all hunky and brave.”

Eddie finished the bar, throwing the wrapper overboard. His head suddenly dipped as exhaustion hit him. He was close to tipping over when he caught himself and cursed, forcing his eyes back open as the boat swayed on its chains.

He wondered if Steve would have stayed and kept him company if Eddie hadn’t almost killed him. It had been an accident, but he hadn’t apologized. Shit.

The next time Eddie’s head dipped, he fell back and let sleep take him.

Eddie jerked awake to noise from outside. He vaulted out of the boat, bottleneck clutched in his fist as he peered out the window, panting with adrenaline. It was light out again, so he had actually gotten some sleep, but he wasn’t focused on that. Someone or some thing was there. The floorboards creaked.

Or not.

His heart had barely slowed before the door clanged open, revealing Dustin, Steve, Robin and Max.

Eddie’s shoulders slumped. He glared balefully at them, but it didn’t last long because he was glad to see them. “Knock next time, or I won’t be tipping,” he told Dustin.

“Uh, I’ve earned a tip for stellar customer service with a smile, thank you. No take-backsies.”

Eddie cleared his throat as the munchkins started unloading the grocery bags and making themselves comfortable. He set down the broken bottle. Robin leaned against a steel shelf and looked out at the water, which was peacefully still without any wind.

Max opened a bag of chips, and Dustin scolded her as she shoved a handful in her mouth. “Those are for Eddie ,” he said, way too overprotectively if everyone’s expressions were anything to go by.

Max shrugged. “Eddie can share.”

“Course I can. I’m not a chip hog. Unless those are Bugles,” said Eddie. Putting Bugles on his fingers like claws was always a tasty and perfectly on-theme accessory for Hellfire nights.

Fuck, was he ever going to have one of those again?

"We got Buges!" Dustin said. He was already helping himself to the chips, arm stuck in the bag, while Max rolled her eyes at him.

Eddie was hungry, but there was something he had to do first. He reached into his pocket, sweaty hand wrapping around the wrapper of his last Big Hunk bar. It turned out the information he’d filed away about Steve liking them would come in handy now. Hopefully.

He nodded at Steve, stepping towards him while everyone was all distracted. He held the bar out as a peace offering. “Hey, dude, um. I’m sorry about last night. You know, the whole…” he trailed off, motioning towards Steve’s throat with his other hand.

Steve wasn’t expecting an apology from Eddie. Nearly getting attacked had left him full of adrenaline after he’d gotten home. It had taken a while to wind down and fall asleep, especially after Eddie had horrifyingly recalled what had happened to Chrissy. Steve hadn’t known what Eddie was capable of until he had been in the thick of it. Eddie was strong and very threatening. Getting an apology made Steve confident that Eddie didn’t have it in him to physically harm him or anyone else. He was probably all bark and no bite.

As Steve listened, he smiled a bit, remembering it almost fondly as he lightly touched his throat. He looked down as the apology hit him and made him bashful that he was even getting one.

“I was kinda worked up. Hadn’t slept much since Friday. Which is still not really an excuse, I know,” Eddie rambled, “So, just—”

This was going swell.

Steve gave a casual shrug of his shoulders and then looked back up to catch Eddie’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Eddie repeated, clapping Steve on the shoulder and giving it a warm squeeze.

It felt like Eddie was looking directly into his soul. Their eyes connected for an abnormally long beat. The intensity made Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s lips, and he immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise just like they had when Eddie had the bottle to his throat.

Eddie’s stomach stole the show by rumbling like an angry bear, interrupting Steve’s weird physical reaction to the apology and touch. Steve nodded, understanding. “It’s cool,” he said, brushing it off. He had been over it after Eddie told them about Chrissy, anyway.

Eddie nodded, annoyed at his stomach for no discernable reason. Steve had accepted his Big Hunk and his apology.

Moving away, Eddie sat down and started ripping open the bag of cereal. The smell of the Honeycombs invaded his nose. He was shovelling them into his mouth between sips of sugary sweet Yoo-hoo when Dustin told him the bad news. He always went with the bad news first.

It didn’t surprise him that the police were looking for him and that he was the only suspect, but his lips still trembled, and his appetite vanished, a nauseous feeling replacing it.

The entire town would be lighting their torches and sharpening their pitchforks. Many people already had a problem with him, especially the members of the church, so hunting him down was going to be like Christmas morning for them. He didn’t see any way this could end well for him.

That was until Robin informed him that this wasn’t their first otherworldly rodeo. They had been through this kind of shit before.

Eddie glanced at everyone in the room, lingering on Steve until he nodded in confirmation.

Eddie's eyes bulged as they tried unsuccessfully to reassure him, and his eyebrows lifted. Jesus Christ. Right, there was nothing to worry about. Nothing whatsoever. And a girl with superpowers, so what? That was totally normal.

Sirens sounded nearby, making them all go on high alert.

“Tarp!” said Robin urgently. “Tarp, tarp!”

Eddie ducked under it, pulling it over himself. He clenched his eyes shut as they waited and whispered the chorus of Leper Messiah to calm his racing heart. “Time for lust, time for lie. Time to kiss your life goodbye...”

Fuck, this was it. He was going straight to the big house. He would be reunited with his dear old man, who would be thrilled to see him, especially after their last conversation where Eddie told him about his big plans. About how he was really going to buckle down, graduate school this year, and get his diploma. Hell, maybe even get into a college.

Dad had laughed his ass off, sporting a wide grin through the plexiglass. " You really think you can get into one of those smarty-pants schools?"

It was said with affection, which made it hurt even more.

Steve followed the others to the window as soon as Eddie was out of sight. He hung back slightly. They watched the cops speed right past the boathouse.

Once the sirens dissipated, Steve felt a slight sense of relief. Eddie was still wanted, but at least they wouldn’t have the police snooping around with him only hidden under a tarp. It was the most obvious hiding place. When Steve originally started poking around with the oar, it was clear to him then. Not only that, but Eddie’s broken bottle was no match for a policeman’s gun.

It was only a matter of time before someone else figured out he was hiding here at Reefer Rick’s. They had to prove Eddie’s innocence sooner rather than later. While Dustin made it sound totally plausible, they had a lot of work to do.

“They’re gone. For now,” Steve said, grabbing the top of the tarp. He pulled it back just enough to free Eddie’s face. He still looked terrified. That made him feel bad. Steve didn’t want to leave him here all alone again, so he thought quickly.

“We need to get you out of here,” he told Eddie. Steve’s house was in the direction of where the police were going. No one would expect Eddie to be there. “We’re going to take you to my house. My room is in the basement. My dad is out of town, and my mom is probably passed out on the couch. It’ll be easy to sneak you in. I do it all the time with my dates. What do you say?” Steve thought it was a pretty good idea.

Robin’s eyebrows slowly climbed into her hair. She gave Steve a peculiar look, unseen by Eddie.

Eddie’s brain was now short-circuiting from a completely different reason other than fear. Not even in his wildest dreams would he think he would be offered shelter from Steve Harrington. At the very most, he should have been offering Eddie a hiding place in his dusty pool shed or something—not in his very own, very personal bedroom in his basement.

Eddie’s stomach was unexpectedly flipping the fuck out as he looked up into Steve’s, also unexpectedly, kind brown eyes. “Um…I…are you—”

—really sure you want me there? He didn’t get to say because Dustin interrupted him, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Great idea, Steve! Then we won’t have to ride out so long to bring him things.”

Robin’s eyebrows said it all. What was Steve thinking? She was surprised. Steve was, too. He had just invited Eddie to stay at his house… in his room.

Whatever, it wasn’t that big of a deal. And there was no taking it back now.

“Can we leave now?” Max asked. She was rubbing her temple, her forehead creasing like she was in pain.

Steve looked at Max. She had really been worrying him. It sounded like whatever had gotten Chrissy was after her now, too.

Eddie sat up quickly, moving the tarp off himself and jumping out of the boat so he didn’t miss his ride out of there. “Well, I’m not going to miss that thing one bit,” he said honestly. Anything would be an upgrade from the boat.

His mind was already off to the races. What would Steve’s bed be like? Hard? Pillowy soft? Would Eddie be sleeping on the floor? Maybe Steve had a couch in his bedroom. Rich people had other furniture in their bedrooms, right? Why would Steve’s mom be passed out in the middle of the day? How many dates did Steve sneak into his bedroom on a weekly basis? Why was Steve doing this for him?

Steve nodded, “Alright, let’s go. The quicker we get Eddie to my house, the quicker we can find out what the police are after.”

Steve led the way out of the boathouse. He got in the car first and waited for everyone else to pile in before starting it. As he backed up, he caught a glimpse of Eddie in his rearview mirror. He seemed less rattled, which made Steve feel better about his decision

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddiebang23 #gifs by me #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things edit

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epigstolary · 2 years

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Too Much of a Good Thing

When you said I’d never have to lift a finger if I didn’t want to, it turned out you meant it literally. And now, I almost can’t manage even that much. In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve always been the sweetest, kindest, most attentive partner anyone could ask for. You’ve indulged, even anticipated, my every whim. The hundreds of pounds of blubber I’m buried under are visible proof of that. But I don’t know how much more of your love my body can take.

When we met, I was comparatively skinny. Not fat; barely chubby, even. It didn’t take long for that to stop being true. You doted on me with regular boxes of chocolate, romantic dinners out, late nights staying at the ice cream parlor near my apartment until closing, homemade baked goods and other treats delivered before our dates. I was so taken by all your affection and how much I was enjoying all the treats that I barely noticed what it was doing to my waistline. The new (bigger) clothes you consistently brought me helped with that, too; but there was a part of me that was enjoying it so much that I didn’t want to notice, either.

I won’t say things changed, but they definitely accelerated once we moved in together. With basically a 24/7 opportunity to see me, your flow of affection turned into a torrent. Now, instead of only getting spoiled when we were going on a date or hanging out together, I was the beneficiary of your generosity almost constantly. It went from being a little pastry with my coffee break or a special second dessert, to having something new to eat or drink every couple of hours or less. It started taking conscious effort to finish one treat before you appeared, smiling, with another. I hated to be ungrateful, didn’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate what you were doing for me, and so… I just kept eating.

Eventually, I got used to it. It became a habit to accept your regular round of indulgences without question. And I started looking like someone who was used to it. My belly got too big to fit into our compact car, even doing everything I could to press its pendulous weight down between my legs. My rump and love handles thickened and widened until the armchairs in our living room became impractical, comfortable traps that my girth would fill and overflow and be completely stuck in without help. My elbows and wrists disappeared under puffy sleeves of chub that I could feel wobbling with each swing of my now-weightier arms, trying to counterbalance the movement of my body from walking. I say walking; it quickly came to look more like I was barely picking up each of my blubbery, shapeless legs and putting it down a little ahead of where it had been before repeating the process with the other. Once you told me I’d run out of plus-sizes at our favorite clothing store, and I saw no signs that my ballooning would be slowing down anytime soon, I knew I had to say something

It’s hard to describe the few times I tried to rein you in as anything other than a disaster. Try as I might, I just couldn’t make you understand that wanting to slow down on all the special snacks and desserts and goodies had nothing to do with how I felt about our relationship. You said you did, of course, and tried to put on a good show; but eventually you started to mope and seem listless and look absolutely miserable. You hardly ate anything yourself. And for my part, having gotten used to the constant flow of calories and the dopamine hit with every new treat, there wasn’t much willpower left when I saw how hard it was hitting you. It never took long for me to give in, see the joy return to your face when you got to start filling me up with lavish indulgences again, and go along with it when you made a point of outdoing your past spoiling to make up for lost time.

Now that it’s so hard to move, it’s only gotten worse. You know I can barely get out of bed, and how tired I get those few times a day when I do. You’re always ready to make sure I have what I need so I, literally, never have to lift a finger or even ask for something I might want. It seems like every couple of minutes, you bring me some new treat, something else to snack on, another drink, another meal, another candy. There’s always more, right at hand, to keep shoveling in.

And there’s nowhere to go. These days, I can’t even reach around all the fat on my body. It just about fills the bed that used to be big enough for the both of us. If I could manage to waddle all the way to the front door, I’m not even sure I’d fit through it anymore. I can’t get away; so whatever you bring me, I eat it. And drink it. And chew it. And swallow it.

And enjoy it. And dread it. And crave it. And fear it.

I wish you could see with clear eyes what you’re doing to me and what I really need. I wish you could see that I’m way, way too fat for my own good. That you should be making me move and exercise instead of sit and eat. That I need you to make me diet instead of make me indulge. That every treat is a temptation, every snack a sap to my willpower, every meal a means to make it that much harder to ever go back. You’re loving me to death, and every new pound proves just how completely, thoroughly, smotheringly you love me.

It takes my breath away.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

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redux-iterum · 4 months

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A Canine Eulogy

We put down my dog, Geno, today.

Textwall of sentiment under the cut.

Shortly, he was ill, and steadily growing worse every day at a rapid decline of a week before his death. He'd have brief moments of cheeriness, then go back to being listless, sluggish and unhappy. The vet made it clear a few days ago that there was very little chance of saving him and that his quality of life (the most dreaded phrase in a pet owner's dictionary) was poor, and only getting poorer. We made the decision to end his suffering before it got so severe he couldn't climb up the stairs into my house, or have accidents indoors, or starve himself to death (as he was starting to). It didn't feel good, not remotely, but it had to be done.

I haven't talked about Geno on this blog, so I figure the best way to pay my respects is to tell you all how great of a dog he was. Probably a bit late to introduce him, but whatever.

Geno (nicknames including Bean, Stinky Bean/Gene, Eyebrows Boy, Old Man and Geno Bon Benostein) was a dog that we never figured out the breed of. Many people, charmed by his pleasant, permanent puppyface that was always so happy to see them, would ask me his breed, and my answer was "He's got big eyebrows, that's all I know". That generally got a laugh, which was nice.

We attained Geno when he was about half a year old in a move. My pops runs a moving company, and we get all sorts of things from moves that people don't want to take with them to the new house across the state. I don't think a single piece of furniture in my house isn't secondhand, that's how much we get.

Geno in particular was our first longterm pet from a move. The lowdown is that the customers were divorcing and were viciously arguing over every single item and animal in the house. The wife threatened to take Geno to the pound, and immediately Pops offered to adopt him. I found this out when he picked me up from a sleepover in middle school and had a second dog with him, along with our first. It was quite a delightful surprise.

Our first dog was less than obedient and more than indifferent to humans, loving to destroy stuff and escape constantly. Geno, on the other hand, was only concerned about staying within eyesight of his owners, to the point of sitting on a windowsill as well as he could and staring at us through the glass until we let him in (at the time Pops was not eager to have dogs in the house). We never needed to chain him up or fence him in - he was entirely devoted to us from jump and got as close as he could at all times.

The first dog eventually died, and Geno was the sole pup of the house. He thrived in that, and he made a point to prove himself to be an excellent dog. He never had an accident in the house for many years (until age got to him), preferring to potty in the bushes or brush so that we didn't have to worry about stepping in it or even cleaning it up. He never barked or ran away or growled at visitors, nor did he knock over trash cans or even so much as get fleas during the summer. The only things we struggled with were his great hatred of other dogs and aggressive fear of wheels. The wheel thing was a little more embarrassing, because he'd bark at some poor bastard in a wheelchair who was just trying to mind his own business. Like, great, thanks, Geno. Now we look like assholes.

Geno went on many, many trips across the country with us, especially to Yellowstone, which is a yearly voyage pops and I go on. He was a treat to travel with - he just wanted to rest his head between the front seats and look at us adoringly. He went to beaches, where he didn't enjoy the coast and instead stuck with us by inches, and on moves, where customers and their new neighbors would fawn over him and he got to be the Super Special Puppy Dog, which he loved. He went more places than most people I know, and certainly ate more pizza than any other dog in the United States while we were in hotels. Maybe not healthy for him, but man did he love his 'za, and he'd stare at us with his big ol' cow eyes. How could we say no?

This dog was a major part of my life - he was around for half of it, from middle school to adulthood. I don't think I can ever get another dog that would be nearly as wonderful as him, and I don't know that I want to. I think he raised the standard too high and made every dog I take care of (I housesit for a living) somehow not as good as him, no matter how well-mannered they are. I expect that to be that way for a very long time.

His collar, I decided, will stay in my car, hooked around the rearview mirror. That way, he gets to travel with me no matter where I go. He always did thoroughly enjoy a car ride.

Moonshine will miss him greatly. She was infatuated with him no matter how much he tried to make her go away. He gave up towards the end and started being nice to her, at least. I'm just glad I've got pictures of them interacting and her demanding his affections. Those are precious memories above precious memories.

The vet techs mourned with us as we said goodbye, calling him "one of the good ones". I think that's a pretty high compliment.

I hope he's happy, wherever he is.

You were a good boy, Geno.

#readmore #pets #real talk #i speak #not warriors

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thediktatortot · 2 years

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We all know Eddie has ADHD, but I feel like people don't ever mention the Really Not So Fun symptoms. Like, the kind of symptoms you can't just laugh at because jesus they really fuck with your life.

Like forgetting to eat or drink for literally hours, maybe even entire days because you just can't take your mind off the thing your doing, or focus long enough to make yourself something to eat. It leaves you shaking like a leaf and unfocused and foggy headed and you can't figure out why your so foggy until you remember the last thing you ate was a bowl of cereal the morning before.

Not remembering the last time you showered, even if you think about it really hard. And if you can remember it, usually it was like 4-5 days ago and now you feel disgusting suddenly. Not just because you might not have showered in five days, but because you didn't shower in five days. You haven't brushed your teeth, your hair or washed yourself in five days and you feel disgusting and ashamed because how could you allow yourself to get so dirty?

The shame that sits in your core at every thing you do because it's not normal, it's not right, even on top of all those other not normal things you do, this especially. Because everyone can do it, everyone can study and everyone can write essays and everyone can drink fucking water so why the fuck can't you just drink some damned water!

It's getting so fixated on a task that you suddenly cannot complete because you're either missing essential steps or parts of a task. You can't do anything else though, because that's the task or the thing you've decided you have to do, whether important or not. You check, over and over again to see if maybe you're just not seeing something or not finding something that should be there. Maybe you're just stupid and can't see what's obviously right there, so you ask other people to check or find things for you because you can't trust yourself.

You forget everything, leave things on the ground, in the bathroom, on the porch. You can't trust your hands to remember to not loosing things, so you keep those items in your hand for a half hour only to forget what you were doing with it to begin with.

It's trying to do better at remembering things so you leave yourself notes. On the mirrors in the bathroom, in the kitchen taped to the coffee pot, on the toilet seat, etc etc. But it doesn't matter because even though you see those notes, you're brain doesn't want to do whatever it is that thing is. So you ignore the notes, or you tell yourself that you saw the note so now you'll remember it. You don't remember it, you forget about the note and the task and the fact that you said you would remember it only ten minutes later.

It's going to school and being okay with learning, enjoying yourself in class when it's happening because you have someone teaching you, someone there to keep the thoughts in line, to keep your mind focused. You hate authority because you don't like being told what to do, but in reality it really helps keep you on track. During the summers you are listless, no goals, no one to tell you what your next task is because you have no responsibilities and thus no goalposts to look forward too.

You can say you want to graduate, you can really really want to graduate but none of that matters because you can't get your own mind to want to do the hard things it takes to do the things you want to do. You get called lazy, get called weird and stupid by those around you. Teachers think you don't apply yourself, adults in your life pity you because they don't understand why you can't just do the fucking homework, other kids hate you because you don't fit in socially the way kids are supposed too.

It's the self depreciating, shame and doubt that just sit on you constantly like a coat you can't remove or a tattoo marked on your skin. You'll never be able to change your brain. You'll always be messed up and it feels like there's nothing in the world you can do about it other than just be miserable or die.

#Eddie Munson #ADHD #I might have gone a little deep #I have ADHD too I'm sorry I might have projected a little #But if you have ADHD you get it

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devilry-revelry · 1 month

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After Nora | Hancock x Female!Sole Survivor

(Ancient) Prompt fill for the (ancient) Fallout Kink Meme —

The Prompt: Despite his charisma and laid back nature about his ghouliness, Hancock actually hasn't had too much physical contact with others since he went ghoul. Maybe he's reluctant to get close to someone, maybe he's too busy being mayor, etc. Then the SS comes along, and it isn't long before he's craving their touch and to be near them. He's itching for physical contact but he's worried that the SS might not want to get that close to him for various reasons. How Hancock proceeds and how the SS reacts is up to you! Of course, I'd want it to end with Hancock getting the affection he desires.

Hunger. That was the best way to describe it. Hancock felt it as he walked, as he moved, and as he breathed. It was particularly noticeable in the dead of night as he lay back in bed and gazed up at the ceiling. No amount of drugs did anything to mute the persistent yearning, confirming that the hunger would be a perpetual part of his life. The sleepless nights had become nearly painful, but it was a pain he was familiar with. It could not be ignored, but it could be dealt with. The listlessness he felt was chalked up to a mild to severe case of depression, just like the lethargy, and his empty headedness. There were days where he simply existed, and existing was good enough.

Or, at least, it had been.

When the Vault Dweller came to town merely existing was no longer an option. The day Nora rolled into Goodneighbor was the day that the persistent yearning hunger turned into something so much more apparent in his day-to-day life. The hunger felt tangible. There were days where he thought that if someone looked at him long enough they would be able to see a great yawning void within him. Hancock had planned to ignore the Vaultie until the knowledge of her existence was purged from his memory. It didn’t work. When he wasn’t seeing her, he was hearing about her; whether it was from the citizens of Goodneighbor, or on the radio. Then, somehow, the woman had wiggled her way into his life and keeping her at arms length became that much more difficult. She was around Goodneighbor often. When she was in town he wished that she would leave. Her being so close yet out of reach left him feeling needy and bereft. When she was gone he desperately wanted her to return. He worried about her damn near constantly. Her presence, or lack thereof, became another painful constant in his life.

One day, he woke up and decided to face it. He woke up and decided to face her. The nearness to the object of his desire had his body practically buzzing in anticipation. Her company alone pleased him just as much as it upset him. So close, yet still so far away.

“You want to travel together?” Nora asked him, her head tilting to the side. “What about Goodneighbor?”

“I’ve been too comfortable. Getting too used to this lifestyle. I need to get out and sharpen the old warrior instincts.” He met her eyes, saw her smile that perfect smile of hers. “I would like to tag along with you, if you’d have me.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He felt more excited than he should have been.

“Yeah.” Nora held out her hand. Hancock’s gaze focused on her palm, on her fingers. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to travel the map of lines on her palm with his fingertips.

He settled for the handshake.

Her palm was warm and soft, while her fingers carried a soothing chill. The handshake ended far too quickly, and Hancock barely managed to hold back a sound of disapproval that grated against the back of his throat. Had he let it, it could have easily been a whine or a desperate whimper. The hunger that he experienced wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t a carnal hunger. It was an overwhelming desire to be touched. And not to be picky, he wanted it to be by someone who cared or someone he cared for. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep with her tucked so securely in his arms that he knew that she would still be beside him when he woke up. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to lace his fingers between hers and just… exist. Just existing with Nora would be a beautiful existence, to be sure. Far better than existing alone.

But the handshake was fine, he told himself. The handshake would have to do.

At some point in his life, Hancock let himself lose track of time. Half-past leaving Diamond City and turning into a ghoul he simply stopped paying attention. As far as he was concerned the time, the date, was always After. After leaving Diamond City. After ghoulism. Days, weeks, birthdays, and holidays were all blurred together in a haze of Jet and Mentats, Lethargy and sleepless nights. The next time Hancock had the opportunity to touch Nora again was exactly nine days after leaving Goodneighbor. He didn’t recall keeping any sort of mental tally, but some part of him knew that it had been nine days, and he knew it without question. Nine days of walking the Commonwealth, doing nothing in particular but cleaning up riff-raff. Nine days of sleeping on the other side of the campfire, sharing meals and sharing stories. Nine days of being so damn close to her that he could smell her – but never touching. Not once.

They had been ambushed by raiders. After nine days of clearing out their strongholds, the raiders had clearly decided to hunt the duo down. Though they won the fight, they did receive a bit of a beating. Nora, whose armor had been in a state of disrepair during the ambush, had a pool cue broken across her back. Hancock took a bullet to his shoulder. Though painful, the injuries were incredibly minor when compared to what typically happened when unsuspecting persons were ambushed by raiders.

After the raiders were dispatched they found a safe place to hunker down so they could tend to their wounds. They hid out in the back of an old bus, sitting on the dirty floor as Nora unloaded all of her medical equipment from her rucksack. Hancock shrugged his coat from his shoulders and tugged at the plunging neck of John Hancock’s tunic to expose the bullet wound. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but it was deep enough that he couldn’t pry the lead out with his fingers. Another scar to add to his collection. Not that it mattered. Turning into a ghoul fucked up his body so badly he couldn’t really differentiate between scars and what would be considered normal. Slender fingers slipped into view, and before he could brace himself for the contact, Nora was touching his arm. Barely-there pressure was applied to his skin, and he dragged in a ragged breath. He would let her think that it was a sound brought out by pain, but it was caused by her proximity, her willingness to help him.

“It’s not deep,” she said, breaking the contact. His eyes shot to hers. Nora was leaning in close – so close he could smell the floral perfume she had spritzed on her clothes however many days ago. He could see the dusting of freckles that danced across her nose. Though he felt the urge to kiss her, the desire to press his forehead against hers was so much stronger. He wanted to press his forehead to hers, card his fingers into her hair, and close his eyes and just breathe.

Nora held up a set of forceps and asked, “Do you want me to…?”

“Go ‘head.”

The woman reached out and touched him again, though this time it was firm and so much more real than the ghost of a touch she had used earlier. Hancock nearly vocalized his appreciation, but remained silent. The forceps dipped inside of his skin, touching torn and bleeding muscle. Metal audible clinked against the chunk of lead and a sobering amount of pain shot through the length of his arm. The bullet was extracted with no trouble. She plopped the bloodied slug into her palm, holding it out to him.

“Way to go,” she said teasingly. “Wish I had a lollipop to give you.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Hancock jested.

When Nora offered to stitch up the wound Hancock turned her down. Despite the effervescent need he had for her to touch him in any capacity, she needed to save her supplies. There was no sense in her wasting them on him.

“Nah, Doll,” he said. “I’ll find me a puddle of radiation and I will be right as rain. Let’s take a look at you, huh?”

Nora sighed, and she turned her back to him. She removed her measly chest armor and then hoisted the back of her thread-bare shirt up and over her head. The hem of the shirt was hooked around her neck so her front remained perfectly covered with her modesty intact. Hancock was gifted with a nearly unobscured view of her back. It was beautifully smooth skin that would have otherwise been completely unmarred if it wasn’t for the colorful damage the pool cue had left behind. The bruising was raised and swollen, red and splotchy with a laceration that traveled beneath the bloodied strap of her once white brassiere.

“I’m going to unhook your bra,” he warned her.

“What, a girl can’t get a drink first?”

Hancock chuckled at the half-hearted joke, but he felt so damn breathless. He would finally get to touch her. He would get to tend to her injuries and help her heal. Nora was entrusting the task to him, and he’d be damned if he was going to mess it up. A smoothskin like her would need stitches for the mess that had been left behind. Hancock’s radiation mangled fingers brushed the outer edge of the angry bruise. Nora exhaled through clenched teeth. Nora was pained while Hancock tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He so desperately wanted to glue his body to hers. He wanted to hike up his shirt and pull her back against him so he could have the skin-to-skin contact that he had been hungering for.

With his body trembling, he went about cleaning the cut. Though it was only a couple inches in length, the location of the laceration would be uncomfortable; it stretched across the skin where the clasps of her bra rested. Hancock taped some gauze down, but even then, the material would probably chafe against the sutures. He watched as her back arched, as she found her bra straps and went to reconnect them. She released a loud hiss.

Hancock said nothing as she placed her supplies back in her pack. Her chest armor was pulled back into place and secured. The hunger left his body burning. He had been so close to her. Nora had touched him, and she had trusted him to touch her and he realized that was becoming a substantial piece of what he wanted. A mutual trust, a friendship created from the ground up. No ulterior motives, no exchange of chems or caps. The way he craved it was just sad.

The duo left the bus, and they continued to wander. They seemed to be meandering idly, and that was completely fine. There was companionable chatter as they walked. There was no awkwardness, no pregnant silences. Maybe this was what he needed, too. He needed companionship. That wasn’t to say that Fahrenheit had been a bad friend or bodyguard, but the woman could be painfully quiet. Nora talked, she sang with the radio. She was a tangible presence in his life, one that couldn’t be overlooked or ignored, or forgotten.

“You’ve never heard of Tarzan?”

“Is he Grognak’s cousin?”

“Oh, you poor man. How about Beauty and the Beast? That one is a classic.”

“… Is that first one about that chick that tried to fuck a deathclaw?”

“Whoa. Whoa! You’re kidding! You have to be kidding!”

When Nora’s Geiger counter began to click angrily, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, flashing a pleased smile. The puddle of radiation that she had found was a literal puddle of water in a flooded out neighborhood. Old barrels of waste were overturned, creating the perfect place for someone like him to heal up. Hancock dressed down, then knelt beside the water, cupping handfuls of liquid and palming it over the open wound in his shoulder. Nora retreated far enough that her Geiger counter wasn’t going haywire, waiting patiently.

“Oh, sister, I wish I was kidding.”

Hancock regaled a stunned Nora with his story, and she laughed and made appropriate grossed out noises. At one point, he found himself just watching her, no longer treating his gunshot wound. She was in the throes of laughter, her hand cupping over her mouth to stifle herself, eyes screwed shut. The woman was too damn beautiful, too genuine, too kind…

He stood, and returned to her side, shrugging his coat back onto his shoulders. As he neared, she dropped her hand. She was grinning ear-to-ear. She met his eyes and said, “I’m glad you came along, Hancock. It gets lonely out here. Your company makes all of this a whole lot easier.”

Her words touched his heart. There had to be others who were willing to travel with her, better ones, and she had picked him. He offered a lazy smile, pulling his cigarettes from his coat’s breast pocket. “Well, what can I say? I aim to please.”

“I mean it!”

“So do I.”

The next time they touched was five weeks later. Five weeks of sleepless nights, of watching her from the other side of the fire as she sang along with the radio. He was feeling irritable, and he was doing his damnedest to keep himself in check. There were times where he found himself reaching out to her as her back was turned, reaching out to pull her back towards him. He didn’t like it when she turned her back to him, didn’t like it when she wandered off alone – and he had damn near gone completely feral when she left him in Sanctuary for all of an hour one sunny afternoon.

It was another fire fight that had brought them together. It was another interaction created by circumstance, and not by a sudden yearning to reach out and take his hand. They were battling Super Mutants. Though the duo got the drop on them, when push came to shove, those assholes had suicidal crazies on their side and there wasn’t much that could be done about that. A rhythmic beeping had just caught his attention when, not a second later, Nora grabbed his hand in an iron grip and started running.

The contact was unsolicited and surprising. He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, to practically drag him behind her as she ran for cover. He was touched that she thought of him, that his safety mattered to her. His hand clasped hers just as tightly and he never wanted to let go. The brief windsprint ended with both of them diving behind an old vehicle. They tumbled against one another. Hancock ended up on his back, with Nora stretched across his body. No, he wouldn't let her take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hancock rolled, tucking her beneath him, an arm curling around the top of her head while the other wrapped around his own.

There was an explosion of sound, and then an eruption of force that shook the vehicle that they had hidden behind. His ears were ringing. There was a rush of heat as debris rained down around them, clanking into the car, slapping into the ground, peppering against his back. The Suicider exploded frighteningly close, but they were fine. They made it out unscathed. It was only after the chaos that Hancock noticed that Nora’s arms were wrapped around him. She was holding him close, gripping the back of his coat. The realization made him shudder. Hancock pressed his face into her neck. She smelled like sweat and something floral – He wondered if she had that perfume bottle hidden in her pack somewhere. Hancock inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to enjoy Nora’s embrace. He could stay there, in that moment, forever.

“Hancock?”

His body shook, his eyes squeezed closed. No. No, he needed this. Please, just a minute longer. God, please. Hancock grit his teeth, and he slowly sat up. It hurt him. It hurt him so badly. The hunger was suddenly so much worse. He had gotten a taste of what he had wanted, and then it was ripped from him. He felt needy, and weak, and his heart felt heavy – so fucking heavy. There was a tightness in the back of his throat he forced himself to swallow it down. No, he was more than used to the hunger by now. He wouldn’t let it ruin him.

Hancock sat and pretended to survey the damage around them, “Shit. That was real fuckin’ close.”

Nora sat up slowly. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not a scratch, doll,” he started patting his pockets in search of his cigarettes. He craved something stronger; something that would fog his mind and maybe distract that persistent need he felt in his chest. There wasn't a drug strong enough to stifle the hunger. It was always there. A cigarette was pulled from the pack in his breast pocket, followed by the lighter. He didn’t light it up immediately, he let his hands have something to touch and hold for all of a few seconds. He ran the pad of his thumb over the lighter’s chrome casing, rubbed the cigarette between his fingers.

“Are you sure?”

He stalled for a moment, finally lighting the cigarette. He filled his lungs to capacity. “Yeah. Just a little bit of a rush is all. That may have been better than the chems.” He pushed the smoke through his nose, letting it obscure his view as it surrounded him like a cloak he could hide in.

That night, as they sat together by the fire, there was a tense silence between them. The sleeping bags had already been rolled out on opposite sides of the fire, just like every other night. They already ate dinner and they talked, and conversed, just like every other night. But the silence that followed it all was tense, and uncomfortable. Hancock had the added bonus of absolutely dreading the idea of crawling into his sleeping bag and trying to sleep. He wanted her to talk to him about her life, about her favorite colors – she could have screamed at him and it would have been a far cry better than the silence. He hated himself when he realized that she could have punched him square in the face and he would have welcomed the contact, and he would ask her to punch him again. Anything from her, the good or the bad would have been entirely welcome. So long as it came from her. Only her.

“So…” His eyes snapped towards her, eager to hear her speak. “Are we going to talk about today?”

“Whaddaya on about?”

He started to search for his cigarettes. The coat had too many fucking pockets.

“Today? The Super Mutants?”

“That was nothin’,” he said a bit gruffly. “It was a little bit of a rush, had a flashback sort of. Just a combination of bad memories and adrenaline.”

“Hancock,” she said his name so softly he nearly shivered. “Please don’t lie to me. Let me help.”

The ghoul grit his teeth, finally snatching the cigarettes from his right-hand pocket. He lit up, and took a deep drag.

“Don’t lie to you? Let you help? What about you, sister? What the fuck are we doing out here? You said you were looking for someone, and you never said who. And we haven’t been looking for anyone!” Another drag. The smoke filled his lungs, it seeped from the cavity that had been his nose, it leaked from his mouth as he continued his tirade. “We’ve been wandering, doing absolutely fucking nothing. How about you let me help!”

He was sorry. He was already so sorry. He wanted to take it all back, but something in him had finally snapped. He needed to run her off, and then throw himself headfirst into the chems, and alcohol. He wanted her erased from his memory, completely obliterated. But he also desperately wanted her acceptance. This was a mess - he was a God damn fucking mess.

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, her voice still soft and gentle. “If you will tell me what’s wrong, then we can—“

“We can what, Nora? There isn’t anything - !” He shot to his feet. Another drag, and the cigarette was done. He tossed the butt into the fire, while he was already reaching to start up another. “How about you tell me what’s wrong, huh?”

Nora stood as well, so he was no longer standing over her and yelling. She said nothing, but let him yell at her. He hated himself, what was he doing? He was killing what happiness he had, he was destroying it. No. Please, stop. Please just fucking stop.

“You can’t even help yourself. You’re out here stalling. What are you afraid of, huh? This has been a complete waste of time!”

Time. Like he cared about time. Everything was After. After Nora. He didn’t want to know what it would be like After Nora. But it was coming, speeding at him like a bullet. Nora suddenly raised her hand, and he anticipated a slap to the face – he wanted to be slapped in the face. Anything. Give me anything before this is all over. Give me something to hang onto for when After Nora begins.

The hand that palmed his cheek was soft, the contact gentle. Her thumb stroked his ruined cheek, her fingers sliding up the hard slope of his mottled jaw. He didn’t manage to restrain the weak moan that tore through his throat. His legs buckled, unable to hold his weight. Nora followed him, her free hand reaching to give the other side of his face the same attention. She sat on her knees across from him, holding his face in her hands.

Finally.

“Oh, Hancock…” Her voice was a whisper that soothed his frantic mind. His hands fell on top of hers, keeping her palms flush to his face. His throat felt tight and constricted. When he opened his eyes his vision was blurry. Her figure wavered and danced in the flickering fire light, he could barely see her face. When her hands suddenly slipped out from under his, he felt his heart – his entire being – shatter into a million pieces. Of course she would leave. After what he said to her, after how he had been acting, she had every right to leave him. His hands slipped over his cheeks and covered his eyes and he sank. He sank further into himself, slouching and shrinking until he was doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the ground. If this was what was left of his life, then he didn’t want to exist. Not if it hurt so much. Existing without her wasn't an existence at all. The hunger roiled. The void in him grew impossibly wide. It made his stomach twist and his eyes burn.

“’m sorry,” the voice came out as a feeble whisper. He didn’t want After Nora. “’m so sorry.”

“Hancock, hey…” His body jerked, his head lifted. His heart throbbed in his chest so quickly that his breathing came in hard, uneven gasps. She was crouched beside him, her hand extended to him. “Hey, come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

He didn’t want to go to bed, it was too far away, he wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep. He took her hand anyway, relishing the contact. When Nora shifted to the side there was a spark of hope that warmed his entire body. He looked towards her, then back at the sleeping bags. While he was busy falling apart, Nora had taken the two sleeping bags and zipped them together. The end result was an arrangement that was more than capable of fitting two people. Both of their pillows were there at the head of the sleeping bag. A numbness consumed him, muting the hunger as she went about helping him out of his coat, as she removed the tricorn hat. She even pulled off his boots, the old socks he wore, the sash around his waist. With all of the patience in the world, she helped him into the joined sleeping bags.

Hancock followed her every move. Nora crawled over his body to the other side of the sleeping bag and tugged at her own boots, her socks. She removed her pieces of armor, and then she slipped in beside him. There was a brief moment where Hancock was afraid to move. He didn’t want to scare her off. When he didn’t move, she did. Nora scooted in close to him, her hand finding his under the covers.

“Nora, can… can we…?”

“Whatever you need.”

Hancock turned to his side, facing her. He rasped, “Can I hold you?”

The smile she gave him was small, but sweet. Nora rolled to her side, facing away from him, and then he tugged her flush to his body. Hancock encompassed her body, touching every bit of her that he could. His feet hooked beneath hers, legs and thighs touching, his hips against hers, his stomach and chest at her back, and her head tucked beneath his chin. Nora tugged at his arm, pulling the limb up against her chest. His forearm was between her breasts, his palm cupping her neck. He could feel her pulse. It was rhythmic, steady, and real. Her arm curled around his, her hand at his wrist.

As his body went boneless and relaxed, fragments of lucid thoughts managed to fight to the surface. Outside of his embarrassing state of need he was finally able to think. She had been so gentle with him, even after he yelled at her. He had done nothing to deserve her kindness, but he would willingly accept every bit of it. Hancock pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, letting his eyes close.

“Thank you, Nora.” His voice was still too weak, all ragged and airy.

Her thumb brushed against the inside of his wrist, and she said something that he didn’t quite catch because he was already drifting off to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, Hancock woke up and felt completely refreshed. There had been no point in the middle of the night where he woke up in a fit of restlessness. He didn’t wake up to gaze at her through the dwindling embers of their camp fire. When he woke up, Nora was still secure in his arms. At some point in the middle of the night she had rolled over to face him. Their legs were tangled together, one of his feet pressed up against a naked expanse of leg. The plunging neck of John Hancock’s shirt allowed Nora’s forehead to press into the skin of his chest, her hands curled beneath her chin.

Hancock watched her for a few moments, memorizing the details of her face. He followed the trail of freckles at her nose, the small beauty mark under her eye. His fingers tangled into the ends of her hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel her pulse, could feel her breath. The hunger was silent, the yearning need was blissfully absent and it was all because of the woman he had wrapped so securely in his arms. He wanted to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, he wanted to kiss her until she woke up. He didn’t want to get out of the sleeping bag, he wanted to stay there for the rest of his life just holding her.

“Nora,” he whispered, dipping his head to whisper into her ear. “Nora?”

Her eyes fluttered slowly. Her body stretched and arched, and then she snuggled in closer, sighing quietly.

“Mm?”

“I would like to tell you something,” he said, his voice still soft. He suddenly felt quite foolish. He could have waited until she actually woke up, but then again he couldn’t. The need to apologize was much too strong for him to sit idly and wait. The moment would pass, or he’d get cowardly and opt to remain silent. This needed to be said at that very moment.

“Mmhmm?”

He swallowed hard, “Did you sleep alright?” Already backing out. Coward.

She hummed a sleepy response, “I forgot how nice it was to be held.” Her words were slurred with sleep, but touched him all the same. He pulled her closer, if that was at all possible, and gathered his courage.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night. You could have left me here, and you didn’t. I will never be able to thank you enough. What you’ve done for me… I won’t forget it. Not ever.” He dragged his fingers through her hair, staring off into nothing as he spoke. “And… I didn’t mean what I said. If you’re not ready to tell me who you’re looking for then that’s fine. I will be here when you are. And it hasn’t been a waste of time, none of it has.”

“It has been, though.”

He looked down. She finally had her eyes open, and she was staring at his chest.

“This entire time, I have been doing nothing but wasting time. I’m sorry, but I’m… I’m just so scared.”

The woman who had exuded so much strength and patience the night before was curled into him, looking weak and fragile. He knew that she wasn’t quite ready to tell him who she was looking for, and that was fine. He would show her the same patience that she had shown him. He would wait until she was ready, and then he would do whatever he could to help her.

“Whatever you need, Nora,” he said. “Whatever you need from me, and I will give it to you – whenever you need it.”

She finally met his eyes, and she smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

The two remained snuggled close to one another for a few hours. Hancock drifted in and out of sleep, and every time he woke up Nora was there. If she wasn’t curled against his body, she was dragging her toes up along his leg as she played with her Pip-Boy. When they broke camp and actually began their day Hancock stayed close to her side, occasionally snatching her hand in his. She never shied away, always giving his fingers a welcoming squeeze. Despite what she said – despite what he said – their time together hadn’t been a waste. Not at all.

Time had returned to Hancock’s life. There would always be the After; After Diamond City, and After Ghoulism. There was also After Nora, but it no longer signified an ending. After Nora, he started feeling hole again. He no longer just existed, he really lived. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he could breathe easier. The hunger still existed, but it had mutated into something else entirely. He hungered for her laughter, and her happiness. He yearned to ensure her safety, and he wanted to provide for her. And he did, he did his absolute best to provide for her, he strived to make her happy.

Eventually, right around the three-month mark, Nora told him who they were looking for. She showed him the wedding rings that she had threaded together with an old golden bracelet she’d found. Hancock had been understanding – of course a woman like her would have been married, of course she would have had a baby. Nora would have made a wonderful mother, all patience and understanding and gentleness. She would have been the absolute best. He promised her that he would be with her until the end. They would find her kid, and they would most definitely find the man who had caused his Nora so much pain. She deserved happiness, she deserved all of the happiness in the world.

Month five brought the first of many, many, kisses. It had been a rare night where the stars peaked through the haze of radiation laden clouds. Nora had been downright exuberant as she stretched out on their sleeping bag and pointed out constellations. Half of the time, he didn’t quite see the formations she was identifying but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the warmth that radiated off of her. Throughout the duration of their star gazing she had her head rested against his chest, content and comfortable. His hand was in her hair, idly tugging at little tangles until he could card his hand through it without trouble. When she was finished she rolled to face him, all smiles and without warning she kissed him.

It was timid and it was hopeful, and the very second she tried to pull away Hancock had his hand on the back of her head, pulling her back towards him. He had waited until she was ready. He had waited so patiently. It would have been a great life just being her friend, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more. Hancock took great care to never initiate anything beyond playful flirting, deciding that if they were to be something more it would be on her terms. But Nora kissed him like he would shatter, and he was having none of that. By the end of the night she was so thoroughly kissed she was in a daze, a lopsided smile on her kiss-bruised lips. He hungered for more, but he would wait. He would wait for her forever.

Hancock’s forever came in their sixth month together. It was the first bed that they had been in for a rather long time – at least one that was surrounded by four actual walls. They were back in Goodneighbor. He had wined and dined Nora at the Third Rail where Magnolia’s crooning voice coaxed them into a slow, lazy dance. After, they went to his room in the State House. It started with snuggling and quiet words, followed by some wrestling. He would pull her flush to his body and he would tickle her mercilessly as she shrieked and wiggled and laughed. She would push and bite at him in a futile effort to stop him.

Their playful wrestling match ended with Nora on top of him, straddling him and completely flushed and breathless. Hancock’s hands slid up her thighs, gripped her waist. She leaned down and kissed him, shifting against him so slowly it was near painful. The playfulness became super-heated and needy. Hancock was on top, kissing Nora senseless when he sank into her. She rose to meet him, holding him close with her legs around his hips. She whined his name as she came undone. Hancock could have died happy. If God struck him down in that very moment, that would have been just fine. Nora was gorgeous, and absolutely breathtaking - and she was all his.

It was month nine when he told her that he loved her. She had been particularly withdrawn after the events at the Memory Den. They were shacked up in one of their favorite haunts. Nora had been a bit short tempered, and Hancock had been irritable. They had been bickering, fighting over something small and meaningless when out of nowhere they were yelling, screaming. They were at each other’s throat, not listening to one another, just desperately trying to be the loudest.

“Well if you’re so sick of it you can leave!” She suddenly shrieked. She shoved her palms into his chest, pushing him towards the door. “Get out of here!”

“Nora—“

“I said leave! Go!”

A roiling growl left him as he turned and stalked out the door. Though he knew better than slamming doors at any of their abodes, Hancock slammed the door for all he was worth. He got a whole yard away from the house before he stopped. A little yelling wasn’t going to end them. Their argument meant absolutely nothing, he was frustrated but he wasn’t going anywhere. He turned back, and simply stood beside the house, right next to the front door. Leaning against the metal wall, he lit up a cigarette. Hancock understood that Nora was dealing with a hunger that was unfamiliar to him, and she would deal with it in her own way. There was a lot on her plate, and even more on her mind, but she had been particularly quick to anger over the past week and something in him just snapped. Damn woman – she was why he would go feral. He had just taken a hard puff of the cigarette when the door shot open – it swung open hard enough that it bounced off his boot.

“Hancock! John!” Nora was yelling, running into the darkness. “John!” Her voice was cracking and desperate. She slowed, and he could see her shoulders shaking with the aid of the Pip-boy that was lit up on her arm. “I’m so sorry… ” It was a broken sound, soft and fragile.

Hancock threw the cigarette to the ground. He made his approach, nearly jogging to her side. “Nora…”

“John, John I am so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I…” she was in his arms, gripping his coat in a flash. Her small body shook as she fought to keep her tears at bay, but it was no use. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t go.”

John chuckled, slipping his arms tightly around her. Aside from the night that they first slept together, this had been their first real fight. A screaming match in the wee hours in the morning. A screaming match about nothing. Literally nothing. He kissed the top of her head.

“Wh-why are you laughing!?” She managed to sound fierce despite her tears, and he laughed a little harder. “Stop laughing.”

“I love you, you crazy woman,” he tilted her head back so he could kiss her. She tried to push him away, those full lips turned into a hard frown.

“You… You’re telling me that you love me now? Right now? After I—”

Another kiss, “Yeah,” and another. “I guess I am.”

“But—“

He held her tear streaked face in his hands, and kissed her again, nibbling at her lip.

“But, I just—“

“Nora, do you love me or not?”

“Of course I love you. But dammit-”

Hancock scooped Nora up into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise as he turned and walked her back towards the house. He was careful going through the doorway, and then the hall. After he placed her on their bed, her head resting among the mess of overstuffed pillows, he kissed her again.

“So,” he drawled. “Let’s try this again.” A brief pause. “Nora, I love you.”

The softness that he was so used to seeing returned to Nora’s eyes. Her arms slipped around his neck and she finally smiled. This was After Nora. This was happiness. This was living life. It was the ups and the downs and the beautiful in between. It was ridiculous arguments in the middle of the night, and it was making love immediately after.

“I love you too, John.”

#fallout 4 #fallout #ghoul x human #Hancock x Female SoSu #Hancock x Female Soul Survivor #touch starved #kink meme prompt #fanfiction #ancient fanfiction I’m bringing over for funsies #fallout fanfiction #fallout ghoul

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