Hey y'all. I want to take a moment to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who's interacted with this fic so far, especially over the unplanned hiatus it went through. My life's taken a couple of unexpected turns lately, but I'm happy to say that I'm now in a stable place both physically and mentally, so I'll be able to update more frequently! And I'm incredibly appreciative for all the kind words you guys have been sending my way <3 you're the best!
Also - I GOT MY FIRST REQUEST!!! JQNDJQOQNDHDOQNQLSPFJRB!!! I'm gonna continue writing Neighbors after this, but OH GOLLY GOSH AM I EXCITED!!!
I got this request on AO3 from the user xXFrankenHeartXx:
"You said that you take requests so. What about John taking care of the reader after they finally get a double mastectomy they've been saving up for. I can just imagine him being so gentle and the reader being so happy to see their chest for the first time after it's done."
TW: surgery mention, transphobia mention, minor violence, injury, blood mention
~Reader POV~
John had been nothing but kind, caring, and supportive since you'd started dating almost three years ago, and your top surgery was no different. He'd stayed by your side through it all; the countless appointments, the financial struggle, all your worries and fear...he'd even told Sherlock he couldn't go on as many cases so he could stay home and help you recover (which resulted in Sherlock bringing as many cases home as he could, but you didn't mind; it was a nice distraction).
It'd been a month since your surgery, and today you'd finally be able to remove the compression wrap. You knew you'd have to re-wrap your chest in gauze afterwards, but the excitement of seeing your flat, male-sculpted chest for the first time was the only thing on your mind.
"Can we do it now? Pretty please?" You asked, giving John your very best puppy dog eyes.
"No, love. The doctor said we should remove everything in the evening so you can lay down afterwards, since you'll probably be in a bit of pain." John smiled sympathetically as he recited the same answer he'd been giving you all day. You sighed dramatically, your head rolling back against the pillows stacked behind you.
John had insisted you rest for most of the day, to save your energy for tonight. Your recovery had been going smoothly, but it was taking a lot longer than you'd expected to be able to move your arms normally again. You could handle small motions like grabbing a drink off the bedside table, or messing around on your phone; but extending your arms more than a few inches away from your body was almost impossible. The doctor said that after you took off the compression wrap you could start daily stretches to further your recovery, which was another reason you were so eager for tonight.
And John, being the loving and caring boyfriend he is, never made you feel like a burden, even though you constantly needed his help. Tonight he'd even gone so far as to build you a pillow throne on your shared bed, and rent a bunch of movies for you to watch together to celebrate.
"Would cuddling make the wait a little more bearable?" John asked, eyes shining as he grinned at you.
Cuddling hadn't been easy since the surgery; one wrong move or shift could send a bolt of pain through your body at any moment. Since snuggling was your favorite way to relax, going a whole month without it was absolute torture.
"You're lifting the cuddle ban?" You asked with wide, hopeful eyes. John chuckled,
"Yes, I'm lifting the cuddle ban."
"YES!" You cheered. "Snuggles!!!"
John scooted over and carefully positioned you in front of him, so your back was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, resting his head on your shoulder.
"Better?"
"Much, much better." You sighed, melting into John's touch, putting your arms over his. "I missed this so much."
"Me too, love." He whispered, burying his face in your neck. "Me too."
Being in John's arms made the rest of the world fade away, your focus drawn only to the man beside you.
The man who'd never once dead-named or misgendered you.
The man who'd fought those that disrespected you.
The man who loved you as wholeheartedly as you loved him.
As you relaxed, your mind drifted to the memory of the day you and John met...
The hustle and bustle of London nightlife echoed around you as you stood in front of The Yard Bar, a popular date destination for gay men. You hated bars, but since your friend, Shelley, had set up this date for you, you hadn't had much of a choice.
Shelley was a sweet, hardworking woman; you two had clicked almost instantly when you were put on the same team for a project at work. She'd been trying to set you up on a blind date for a while now, but you'd always been (understandably) reluctant. However, this time Shelley had sworn that if you went on this date, she'd never try and set you up for one again. You knew she'd stick to her word, so you agreed, eager to stop her never-ending texts about guys who'd be "Just perfect for you!".
"(Y/N)?" You jumped at the deep voice, whirling around to see a tall, burly man with short ginger hair and square glasses standing behind you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Ronald." He said, chuckling.
"I'm (Y/N). Oh, but I guess you already knew that..." You smiled awkwardly as a deep blush spread across your face. "It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too. I like your outfit."
"Oh, thanks!" You replied, your grin becoming more genuine. You'd chosen a pair of black jeans, black converse, and a long-sleeved black button-up shirt with an embroidered cat peeking out of the pocket.
"Yea, it's always nice to meet a woman who isn't afraid to dress the way she wants."
"I'm actually trans male, so I use he/him pronouns." The response rolled off your tongue with practiced ease; a result of the constant misgendering you endured since you were rather...well-endowed.
"Huh?" A look of confusion crossed Ronald's face before he let out a small huff. "Oh, you're serious about that? I thought Shelley was joking when she told me you were transgendered or whatever."
"She was most certainly not joking." You retorted, your tone taking a more serious edge. "I'm a man." Ronald continued laughing, your declaration falling on deaf ears. "Is that funny to you?"
"Hey now, chill girlie," He said, holding up a hand as he caught his breath. You felt your blood boiling as he spoke, "You were born a girl, weren't you? It's not like you can change DNA."
"My gender is not a joke. I. Am. A. Man." You seethed, ready to put this jackass in his place. "If this is how you treat people - women, men, or otherwise - then you don't deserve another second of my time." With that, you turned and started to storm away, but before you could go more than a few steps you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going, bitch?" Ronald asked, yanking hard on your arm; nearly making you fall. "This date isn't over yet."
"Let go!" You yelled, pushing and punching him with all your might. Ronald just tightened his grip on your wrist, making you wince.
Just as you were about to scream for help, someone's fist connected with Ronald's face, causing him to lose his hold on you and spin away, clutching his now-bleeding nose.
"That's no way to treat someone, let alone a date! Now fuck off!" The mystery savior said. Ronald scampered off without another word, like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.
You looked over and saw a well-built man with short, blonde hair and a brown bomber jacket rubbing his wrist idly as he watched your would-be date run for the hills.
"Are you alright?" He asked, turning to you.
"Oh, um, yea. Yea, I should be fine. Thank you for that." The man chuckled, shaking his head lightly.
"No problem. I'm John, by the way. John Watson." He said, extending his hand.
"I'm (Y/F/N)." You reached out and noticed that your wrist was bright red, and the adrenaline of the past few moments was being replaced with pain. "Oh gosh..."
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to your injury. "I'm a doctor."
"Oh, um...sure." John held your wrist gently, poking it here and there, eliciting small hisses of pain from you.
"Well, it's not broken or sprained, but you'll have a nasty bruise. I'd suggest keeping it iced as often as you can to help with the swelling."
"Thanks." You said with a soft smile. "I best go home and get some ice, then."
"Er, well, actually..." John started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, um - I have ice at my flat. And we could order in?"
"Are you trying to sweep me off my feet, Mr. Hero?" You smirked, seeing John blush.
"Maybe."
You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice your phone beeping. John reached over, shutting off the alarm you'd set in anticipation for the night's events and pulling you from your trance as he started getting up, but your hand on his arm made him pause.
"(Y/N)? You okay?"
"Yea, just...I love you." You smiled softly. John returned your smile and leaned it, catching your lips in a tender kiss that made your heart skip a beat.
"I love you too." The two of you made your way to the bathroom, grinning like love-struck teenagers.
"Okay Dr. Watson, what do I need to do?" You asked, nudging John playfully. He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing a pair of scissors.
"I just need you to hold your arms up away from the bandages so I can cut them off without the risk of cutting you." You faced the mirror and stretched your arms up as far as you could without pain.
"Is this good enough?"
"Uh..." John trailed off, the look on his face answering your question.
"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?"
"Sorry love." You sighed, taking a moment to gather your courage.
"Alright. Can you help me?" John nodded, setting the scissors down and standing in front you, putting his hands under your arms.
"Deep breaths, love." Your breath stuttered a few times as John guided your arms up, but the pain was manageable. "Stay right there, I promise I'll be quick." You screwed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing as a deep ache stirred in your chest and shoulders, causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. After what felt like thousands of snips and cuts, the wrappings fell away from your body and you let your arms fall as well.
"Owwww..." You moaned, leaning on John for support. He held you close, rubbing a soothing hand across your back and whispering softly about how tough you were, and how well you handled everything.
"Do you wanna look in the mirror?" He asked after a moment. "We can lay down afterwards and I'll get us some ice cream." You giggled softly, nodding.
"Let's see the damage." You lifted your head as John moved to your side, his arm around your shoulders. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes fell on your reflection. The skin was red and tender; a long, large scar revealing the path the scalpel had taken. But it was flat. Completely flat. You felt the tears return as you ran a hand carefully over your chest. "I...i-it's...wow..." You stuttered, at a loss for words. Glancing over to John's reflection you saw that he, too, was crying.
