#he be scratching his arms a lot both from anxiety and from eczema

[pearsabeth]

The Folks - A Percabeth fic

"Annabeth, don't try to act like this is my fault"

Percy's amused tone earned him a glare from his girlfriend. They were waiting in the warm car, anticipating the cold air they would be met with outside and the reaction of the Chase family if they were to notice the red bruise adorning the side of Percy's neck.

"Of course it is, I could've planned all this if you hadn't been so..." Annabeth's eyes flickered as she recalled the making of the hickey that has decided to plague her life.

It was the mischief in his eyes taunting her to remove that trouble maker smirk playing on his swollen lips. Before she knew it her teeth were on his neck and all sense had disappeared. She hadn't thought about the scheduled dinner at her parents. She wasn't thinking at all.

"You know you can't just wait in the car and glare at the house until it disappears" Percy's voice comes from the driver's seat.

"I can try," she sighed.

Knowing perfectly well she had to go in soon and face Bobby and Matthew and their fascinating incapability of minding their business , Helen who's judgemental stare could burn a hole through the dark grey woollen scarf wrapped around Percy's neck and tucked under his thick winter coat and her Dad who would interrogate them until the truth came out.

"You'll be fine Wisegirl, nothing's gonna happen and if anything does we'll just play it cool. We're grown." Percy suggested, hands landing on her thigh to try and comfort her.

She faced him with an anxiety-stricken expression he hadn't been expecting. His eyebrows raised in realisation. There was always more to it when it came to Annabeth.

"They already hate me enough. I bet Helen's in there preparing a list of ways to criticize my life. As if bringing home a boy isn't enough, it just had to be a bruised necked pretty boy who doesn't study law at Harvard."

"I guess we don't care about my self-esteem today, huh," Percy feigned offence.

"C'mon Annabeth, we're gonna be late. You've got this. Besides, I'll be on my best behaviour," He couldn't help the lopsided grin that emerged on his face as he said it.

When it didn't look like she was getting up anytime soon, Percy got out of the car and practically dragged her out and onto the sheet of snow that had begun to cover the driveway. When they got to the porch, Annabeth fixed his thick scarf once more to cover the hickey and rang the doorbell hesitantly.

Percy attempted to offer his support by holding her hand and giving it a squeeze only for Annabeth to snap her hand out as she heard footsteps walking towards the door.

"You're crazy," Percy murmurs as he opted for the small of her back.

The door opened to reveal Annabeth's stepmother, wearing a clean apron over her clothes. Before the couple could exchange greetings with the woman, the sound of slapping feet against the wooden floors was followed by the eager faces of Annabeth's twin brothers, Bobby and Matthew.

"Annabeth, did you get the stuff?" Bobby said his eyebrows disappearing under the brown coils against his forehead.

Matthew, presumably the mature one of the two rolled his brown eyes, showing the little resemblance he and his brother shared with Annabeth. For the most part, the twins resembled their Filipina mother more so than their father and it showed in their soft eyes and thick dark hair. But they couldn't escape the splatter of freckles on their nose that seemed to be Chase family staple.

"You bet I got the stuff, help Helen set up and then we can do business," Annabeth said as she made her way towards the living room, Percy following her lead awkwardly.

Matthew looked at his brother smugly, " I told you it was too good to be true."

Before sulking off to the kitchen, the boys set aside their negotiation and finally got a glimpse of the infamous Percy Jackson. Annabeth had been talking their ears off about him ever since the summer the two met. They knew vaguely about the two being an item from Matthews tendency to pick up his parents' grown-up conversations because he was just quiet enough to go unnoticed as opposed to Bobby who always made his presence known even if he didn't mean to. It was almost never good stuff.

Percy almost took a step back despite himself against the scrutinising gaze of the twins. Seriously, where could he learn to do that? Maybe Annabeth's Dad held lessons.

"Percy Jackson?" Bobby questioned.

Percy had always been great with kids. Annabeth had joked about it saying that it was only because he was basically a child himself. But something about making a first impression on his girlfriend's brother's who looked like they had their fair share in troublesome behaviour made it a lot harder. Percy could blow up a few school busses by accident here and there but the twins looked as if they would not only commit vandalism to school property but also devise an intricate plan before doing so. He had to make the right impression, he could feel the pressure from Helen's silent gaze and Fredericks presence from somewhere in the large suburban home.

"Yeah, that's me, it's nice to finally meet you two." Percy scratched the back of his neck subconsciously and turned to Helen.

very cool of him

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs Chase." He hesitated before her name not wanting to call her Helen and rendering himself as even more disrespectful than the image of him that she probably had in her mind.

"Yes, I've heard a lot about you. Frederick will be down shortly," She gave Annabeth a side-eye before telling Bobby to go upstairs and call his father from the office.

The silence that followed was enough to send Percy's inattentive mind to the surroundings of the house. It was a pretty big house, nothing too fancy though. The walls were decorated with various family photos and plaques of both Helen and Frederick's degrees and academic achievements.

He noticed quickly that Annabeth memorabilia was lacking save for a picture of her beside the wall nearest to the staircase with a smile, her two front teeth missing and posing proudly in front of a lego block set. Percy couldn't help but take his phone out of his pocket and snap a photo of it.

He didn't call for the loud shutter that erupted the silence and he definitely wasn't expecting to see Frederick Chase's aloof yet somehow still disapproving face on his phone screen.

Annabeth stifled her chuckle with a cough and went forward to greet her dad.

"Hey, Dad."

She wasn't sure whether to hug him but it didn't seem like he was opening his arms in an inviting embrace so Annabeth settled for an awkward handshake.

"Annabeth, I hope the traffic wasn't too bad."

Annabeth shot Percy a look that seemed to say,

‘look at this oaf.’

Percy was new to paternal interactions as well, having only met his dad in this last quarter of his life. But Frederick Chase's actions confused him too. His daughter had fallen into Tartarus and saved the world, putting her life at risk for the second time in the span of a year and the first thing he does is make conversation on vehicular congestion?

Percy calmed his fury at the man as he approached. They had met once before but the middle of a battle determining the fate of the world wasn't exactly the ideal setting to exchange pleasantries. In the back of his mind, Percy hoped he wouldn't attempt to give him "the talk" because quite frankly he didn't have any right to tell Percy to take care of his daughter when he'd been failing to do so himself.

"Percy, It's good to see you again. I hear you two have been on quite the journey these past months." Frederick led them to the dining room, taking a seat at the head of the table

This time, it was Percy's turn to throw a meaningful glance Annabeth's way.

Does this man know nothing?

Annabeth returned it with a squeeze of his leg as if she were saying, hang in there.

Helen arrived with steaming plates and bowls of food and the twins weren't far behind her trying to speedily set the table.

Percy thanked Helen for the food and right before he was about to dig into the steaming plate, Annabeth's fears were confirmed.

"It's a little warm in here don't you think? Annabeth must've forgotten to show you but you can hang your coat and scarf behind the door." Frederick suggested.

Percy looked at Annabeth for help, only to see the blood already rushing to her cheeks, fear evident in her eyes.

" Uh- I can't," Percy said shortly.

"You can't?" Frederick's eyebrows raised in question.

"He has this condition, it's uh, what was it called again Percy?" Annabeth aided which must've been suspicious because it wasn't like Annabeth to forget things.

"Um-eczema, it's pretty bad."

"Yeah, wouldn't want flakes of skin falling into your soup or anything," Annabeth added helpfully with a small smile on her face at the twins' disgust.

"Well, sorry I asked then," Frederick said suspiciously but didn't comment on it anymore.

Helen was busy serving Bobby and Matthew, seemingly unaware of the conversation. Percy tapped his foot against Annabeth's shin under the table to get her attention. They were good now. Annabeth shook her head at Percy's gullibility, not buying for a minute that her parents had bought it. But they didn't push, so as far as Annabeth was concerned she was blushing because her boyfriend had a terrible case of eczema and not because she had sucked his neck.

The dinner was unbearable. The food itself was great but even good food couldn't scratch the itch Percy felt to do or say something. Compared to mealtimes at Camp Half-Blood, which were always loud and eventful or dinnertime with Sally who always had something to say whether it be an idea that popped up while writing her manuscript or the oddly dressed poodle she saw on the subway- this dinner was a bore.

It wasn't long before they had retired to the living room again to make more small talk that conveniently avoided the topic of the two falling into the pits of hell. Annabeth had finally given the twins an anticipated copy of a comic series they followed and they'd resided upstairs to read it, leaving the couple alone with Annabeth's parents. They endured until it seemed appropriate to leave.

They were so close. Oh so close to getting up and getting as far away from the dull monotonous voice of the news reporter on TV to the warmth of the car when the tense air was broken by a musical note on the tv claiming to be an emergency weather report.

A blizzard.

It had to be Zeus. It was barely snowing when they had arrived. Percy and Annabeth were stuck and at this moment he had empathised with the dread that encompassed Annabeth every time she had to go home for the summer. How could a house so big feel so claustrophobic and lonely at the same time? The twins were lucky they had each other. He couldn't imagine how Annabeth managed.

"I guess it's a sleepover," Matthew's voice came from the kitchen as he licked the mocha from above his upper lip before running back up the stairs to his brother.

***

Before Percy knew it, he was in the Chase family guest room. Annabeth had nothing to worry about since she had clothes to wear to bed. She had changed into loose purple sweat pants with a long sleeve shirt and had come out of her room to help pick up the assortment of toys that were scattered on the floor. If Percy had an extra room in his house as a child he would probably make it an unofficial playroom as well.

This was probably just as inconvenient for the Chases as it was for them. Percy remembered how his mom fluttered around the house cleaning every surface before the arrival of guests and he finally understood why she always insisted he clean his room even if no-one was entering. Just in case Zeus decided to create a blizzard and snow-in the poor unsuspecting guests.

Percy's thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door to the guest room. He opened the door for Helen, who had arrived with a bundle of Frederick's clothes. She placed them in his hands and left abruptly before he could thank her as if she had forgotten something. Annabeth laughed softly at the thought of Percy wearing her dad's plaid pyjama's.

"You think this is funny Wisegirl?" Percy said with a smile spreading on his face as he took off his coat and shirt and buttoned up the plaid print flannel.

"It's quite comical," she said, shamelessly looking at Percy's exposed chest as he fixed the last few buttons.

Annabeth averted her gaze quickly to the action figure on the floor when Helen resurfaced with a small bag of toiletries for Percy.

"Your condition isn't so bad," Helen said to Percy. She glanced at Annabeth, a hint of a sly smile on her usually stoic face.

Annabeth looked between the two of them. Helens eyes and Percy's exposed neck, scarf abandoned. She couldn’t somehow manipulate the mist and make herself disappear. So she opted for the second-best thing.

"Goodnight, I'm gonna go to my room now." she rushed out the words and almost crashed into Helen on her way out.

It was Percy's turn to be flustered as he nervously scratched his neck, then quickly switched to his head not wanting to bring any more attention to the very blatant hickey.

"Towels are in that closet," Helen said finally and closed the door behind her.

Percy puts on the rest of the clothes with two thoughts in mind:

1) Annabeth's cute when she blushes.

2) I hate it here.

#percabeth #hoo #percabeth hickey drabble #percabeth fanfiction #percabeth fluff #annabeth chase #percy jackson #whatisatimeline #on second thought this is not a drabble #percabeth fic #percabeth fanfic

[lihikainanea]

Tiger and Bill getting quarantined together and she is getting restless.

ok ok ok ok ok

but like

FIRST OF ALL.

I just want to say that I hope each and every one of you are alright. If you’re quarantined, I know that it’s hard, and I know that it’s very hard on your mental health. I’m here for you guys if you need it. I suck at replying on time and this whole zombie virus thing has got me quite busy, but my inbox is always open. And I won’t turn off my anon option because I want all of you to feel like you have at least one safe space left, if you need to unleash your sorrows or a rant or both. It’s fucking hard on me too, I mentioned before but I’m an empath to an insane degree and the entire world buzzing with panic, anxiety, sickness and negative energy just has me like...well, it literally has me breaking out in hives. I get stress-induced eczema and my hands are a fucking mess because of it and also because I’m washing them like 800 times a day. Somebody come rub coconut oil on them for me :-(

Approach slowly though. Don’t spook me. I frighten easily and I really am like a puffer fish--except instead of swelling up, if you spook me I just break out in nervous hives and start scratching.

ANYWAY

Look, let’s add some angsty sauce to this: Bill desperately trying to get home to her as the quarantine is taking effect. It’s like he’s in quicksand, he just wants to get home so he can be with her because he knows she’s stressed and anxious about it, but he’s been booked on 4 commercial flights so far and all of them just keep getting cancelled. He’s spending hours on hold with airlines, spending even longer stranded in airports pleading with the desk agents, and every time he looks up at the TV, another border is closed. He hasn’t slept in days. Every time he talks to tiger he’s trying to be soothing, reassuring, but he knows that she can see his worry too.

“It looks bad, bud,” she murmurs on a FaceTime call, and he can see her hand moving beneath the screen.

“Stop scratching,” he sighs, “It is bad, kid. But I’ll get to you, I promise.”

But her face drops, and she looks sad all of a sudden.

“You shouldn’t make a promise like that, Bill,” she mumbles, “You might not be able--”

“Tiger,” he interrupts, “I’ll see you soon. Hang in there. And go get the coconut oil in the cupboard.”

If anything, seeing her worry and her sadness just made him all the more determined. And hell maybe borders are closed now. Maybe commercial flights are cancelled. But the rich--they live on another fucking planet. And maybe this was some big budget film, maybe he was with his bro (awwwww, Northman vibes) and their actor’s union put the pressure on--so the studio paid for a charter to get the two tall boys the fuck out. That, and probably a little sprinklin’ of Granny’s magic. Granny is probably watching tiger from above and scowling at Bill, going boy you better GET HOME to this mess and take care of it. She’s your mess now and you promised.

And it’s probably like, anything less than glamorous. Maybe Bill has legit slept at the airport the past few days, waiting on standby, trying to get out. He probably hasn’t showered in awhile, that glorious scruff covering his face. But he calls tiger to tell her that he got a miracle, and tiger is happy but she doesn’t want to believe it until he’s home and until he walks through that door.

But he does. Hours later, looking like he’s been through hell, he does. But he comes in to a mess--tiger literally stress-ate all of her quarantine snacks so she’s hopped up on gummy bears and cheese sticks. She’s also covered in hives, and he busts through the door to see the poor thing curled up on the couch, scratching her red, swollen hand, a stick of half-eaten licorice in her mouth, surprised as all hell to see him. Bill takes a moment, breathes, just tries to decide what to tackle first.

“Okay,” he says calmly, “Okay....”

Tiger hops up, the licorice falls to the floor, and she takes a running leap at him but he holds his arms up and backs away.

“No, no no,” he says, “I need to wash my hands, first.”

So he steps away, but then he steps back. Gives her a slow once over. She’s literally covered in hives--her face, her hands, her neck. Angry, red patches.

“We're gonna....” he waves his hand dismissively up and down in front of her, “We’re gonna figure this out, kid.”

“Figure what out?” she grumbles.

“Why you look like a spotted fucking leopard now,” he retorts, “Come on, let’s get in the tub.”

“I can’t,” she says, and then she stands there like a pigeon as she lifts one foot, uses it to scratch the back of her calf.

“Why not?”

She shifts her eyes, lifts her hand to scratch at her neck but Bill smacks it away.

“It makes me itchier,” she mumbles. He rolls his eyes.

“Just follow me,” he grumbles. And after he washes his hands a few times, he sits her up on the counter as he runs to fetch some oatmeal. He runs a lukewarm bath and pours some in, and climbs in with her. You can bet that after he just tuts her gently, rubbing some coconut oil all over her to help soothe it as he scolds her gently and lovingly.

“Look at you, kid,” he coos, “God it’s like a game of connect the dots.”

“Bill,” she whines, “I was worried about you, bud.”

He smiles at that, his soft, shy smile, kisses her cheek before he folds her into his arms.

“I know you were, tiger,” he murmurs. And just because I find it such a cute image--coconut oil can kind of clog your pores, so when it comes to the angry little patches of red on her face, maybe Bill grabs the calamine lotion. Dots that on her face instead, so now she’s just this cute, scowling little mess full of bright pink cotton-ball splotches on her face.

The two weeks are probably hard but let’s face it, it’s so much easier together. Tiger literally stress-ate everything in the house so Bill has to put in a huge order of groceries online. They spend lazy mornings in bed, they cook up a storm every day. There’s a lot of sex--god so much sex. And tiger makes it a rule that Bill is not allowed to wear clothes for two straight weeks--only those incredible little tight boxer briefs that just make his legs look so long and his hips look so fucking delicious.

#bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard #BFF!Bill #funny

[xserpentlife]

Peace

Requested: With fangs please! Like he knows she has bad skin especially when she’s anxious and he notices her scratching a lot lately so he takes her hands in his and calms her down and rubs his thumbs over each spot where it itches to soothe the skin??? Thank you so much!!

A/N: I first want to say that I am so sorry I have not posted. On the one hand I have been super busy with both work and family. On the other hand, I was kind of in a rut. it’s weird to say a story took a toll on me but this one kind of did. I loved the request but I just couldn’t think of how to write it. I really hope you all like this I tried to do it to the best of my ability. On another note, I hope to get into writing like I have always been on this account. I hope to be able to write more for you guys. I really want to put out at least one fic a week, but I am hoping for two. With that said I also have one FSM in my inbox and I am hoping if I get more of those I can put at least one of those out a week as well. 

Warnings: Talk of anxiety

Word Count: 1586 sorry it is short I really tried to make it longer.

You dealt with it basically your entire life. You were used to it now, used to the flare-ups, scratching, and the pain that came along with them. You may have been used to it but that didn’t mean that it hurt any less. But your week had been shit already, bad days at school, terrible customers at work, basically, all the bad shit that could happen did. And throughout the week no matter what you did your eczema had started to flare up more than usual. Of course, it was probably due to the summer heat but there was nothing you could really do because you didn’t want to turn the air conditioner on. You lived with Fangs your boyfriend, he was the greatest human to live in your opinion but you never wanted to cause him trouble. Turning on the air conditioner would cost so much and he seemed comfortable you didn’t want to be the reason you both barely had money for food.

You hated your eczema more than anything in the world. To you it was embarrassing. You were overly aware of every single move you made when you would pat your skin to soothe the parts that itched. You were aware every time someone was looking at you probably assuming you were dirty. You were hyper-aware of everything this week. You felt like your mind didn’t relax once, and it didn’t help they you weren’t sleeping. Fangs wasn't home much due to jobs and you just in general couldn’t sleep without him most of the time but even more so when you were having a flare-up. The constant itching of your skin kept you up almost all night. But it was particularly bad last night. Fangs wasn’t coming home until tomorrow. You were up all night tossing and turning. You tried a bath, tried with your creams, tried everything but nothing was helping. You must have fallen asleep sometime during the night, which was a godsend considering you maybe slept 3 hours the rest of the nights this week.

You woke up the sun shining through the window and were happy because you knew that Fangs would be home early tonight for the first time this whole week. But then, of course, it started itching. You got in an oatmeal bath hoping that maybe it would soothe your skin at least a little bit, but of course, it didn’t. So you scratched. You scratched the spots that were bothering you, and you ended up scratching the spot on your wrist open and the spot on your hand. The two most visible spots you had. The other spots were bad too. You had it on the back of your knees and other locations, but of course, you had to open the two spots that were pretty painful and the ones that Fangs would be able to see. You went into your bedroom grabbing his biggest sweatshirt to cover yourself up. Your anxiety was soaring and it felt like the itching was elevating. And that is when you heard it the roar of Fang’s motorcycle. You started freaking out more not wanting him to see you the way you were. You didn’t want him to see what you had done, didn’t want him to see you, your skin the way it was. So you sat on the couch hands covered, even though it was dreadfully hot inside the trailer.

“Y/N, baby”

“Hi Fangsy” You said it from the couch,  usually you would get up but you couldn’t risk it. Couldn't risk him seeing your skin, seeing what you did to yourself. He came over instantly wrapping you in a hug, but you still didn’t move from your spot.

“Baby did I do something, I uh, I’m sorry I haven’t been home”

“No babe your fine”

“Oh, are you feeling okay then”

“Yep I’m good”

“Baby why are you in my sweatshirt”

“I always wear it”

“Yeah but, it's hot as the devils balls in this trailer, how are you wearing that”

“I just am okay!”

“Okay, okay whatever you say baby. Hey, I’m gonna go take a shower, wanna join?” God did you want to but you couldn’t he’d see.

“No.”

“Oh, okay” He looked sad, defeated even. You felt terrible but you couldn’t risk it. You sat on the couch as he was in the shower sleeves covering your arms. You were moving your arm against your leg when he came out, but you hadn’t noticed him yet until he started walking over to you. His hand came down to your forehead.

“Baby your sweating what is going on, take the hoodie off, are you cold?”

“I’m not cold just leave me alone” His hands came to your waist lifting the sweatshirt over your head before you could even think. You were sat there now on the couch in your bra and panties because it was the only thing you had on under the sweatshirt. You coiled back instantly your arms tucking into yourself, but you couldn’t deny that your skin felt so much better without the fabric on it.

“Baby you gotta talk to me” You didn’t say a word as Fangs watched your every movement. Instead, you waited and he eventually walked towards the bedroom, or so you thought. Instead, he walked to the window, turning the air conditioner on.

“Fangs, no!”

“What?”

“Don’t turn it on”

“Y/N it’s fucking hot in here what is going on with you this is not good for you…” He realized it all then, putting every piece together. “I'm an idiot, come here”. He sat on the couch pulling you into him but your arms stayed the same. “Baby come on move your arms, your just gonna make it worse”

“I’m fine”

“Baby, stop” You gave up at that point his arms wrapping around yours and your face wincing in pain in which he instantly regretted his actions. “I’m sorry Y/N I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“It’s not your fault, I… I scratched open my arm it was so itchy, I’m sorry I’m so sorry”

“Why are you apologizing baby”

“Because it’s gross and…”

“Baby stop, it’s not gross shit happens. It’s genetic nothing you can do about it.”

“No it is Fangs it’s gross!”

“Baby stop” The tears welling in his eyes gave you a sense of panic. You didn’t want to make him cry “Please baby, I hate seeing you like this, nothing is wrong with you,  I wish I could take all the pain and itching away from you sweetness. Did you use your creams and stuff?”

“Mhm”

“Even the new one?”

“I tried everything, I didn’t even sleep last night I got like 2 hours of sleep it was so bad. I don’t get it”

“Baby why didn’t you turn on the AC that helps at least a little right”

“Its so expensive Fangs, I can’t”

“Baby I got you, and you need it on”

“But then we will be out of money Fangs”

“Baby I got some extra money doing these jobs why do you think I took them”

“Oh great so im the reason you had to work more?” You went to get up instantly feeling bad that you were the reason he had chosen to take on more jobs.

“Baby sit down. You are  not the only reason. I’m hot as fuck in here. I did it for us, but even if it wasn’t for me I would do it again in a heartbeat for you baby because you don’t deserve to be itchy all the time you don’t deserve the pain of the flares baby. Now I need you to relax baby take a breath for me because I'm here now. You can relax, fall asleep if you want okay. Come lay with me because I missed you so fucking much and all I wanna do is hold you”

You laid against his chest once again the itching starting to take your mind over once your anxiety began to calm. His arm instantly wrapped around you the other coming to rub over the skin. He grabbed the cream next to him as he began to softly rub it on your arm. You felt an instant calm, and your skin felt an instant soothing sensation as his fingers ran over the skin that once hurt and itched you. He brought his hands rubbing over yours as well as your skin, it wasn’t sexual it was pure love, to make you feel calm. Who knew all you needed was a little touch from your favorite person in the world to calm you down enough to not feel the itch, to not make you feel like you couldn't relax enough to sleep. With him, everything felt calm and peaceful. Fangs was what you needed all along, he was the only medicine that could truly help you.

#fangs #fangs fogarty #fangs imagine #fangs fogarty x reader #fangs x #fangs x reader #fangs forgarty x reader #fangs fogarty imagine #fangs fogarty x #fangs fogarty request #fangs requests #fangs Fogarty x y/n #fangs fogarty story #fangs fogarty riverdale #riverdale #riverdale x reader #riverdale story #riverdale imagine #riverdale x y/n #riverdale reader #Riverdale reader insert #fangs reader insert #fangs reader request #fangs reader #fangs fogarty reader request #fangs fogarty reader insert #Fangs Fogarty requests

[honeypiehotchner]

fire away -- sam winchester one shot

So I listened to “Fire Away” by Niall Horan (hence the title and lyrics) while I wrote this. It’s part fiction and part real life -- the fiction obviously being the Sam Winchester part of it all. This is purely a vent one shot for me to get some emotions out.

There are mentions of abuse, panic attacks, probably some not-so-nice imagery, and the lot. If these things upset you, please take care of yourself.

you keep saying that you’re alright; i can see it through your fake smile, you’re not. there’s a reservoir in your eyes that you’ve been holding back a long time what’s wrong.

~~~

Her skin is angry. Red and raw from where she’s scratched it open. It’s not her fault, really. Eczema can be a bitch, and coupled with anxiety, well, her skin suffers as a result. More often than not, unfortunately. 

Today is a particularly bad day. The winter air already has her stomach itching like fire from a new spot of eczema that has broken out, and seeing her abuser while on a supply run by herself just appeared to be the icing on the cake. But this was two days ago. 

That fact is important because well, today marks two days since she has last slept. 

It was her first time seeing him in a few weeks. She can remember when she hadn’t seen him in three years. And then he showed up again. The three-year gap turned into a few months until she saw him again. And the few months gap has turned into a few weeks. He’s getting closer. And she knows it. She’s secluded herself to her room in the bunker, which isn’t difficult to do. Dean and Sam are too busy working on a case to look up, and Jack is off with Cas doing...something. She missed the fine details over breakfast this morning because she was too focused on keeping her head above her cereal. She hasn’t told either Winchester about the encounter. She may be living with them, but she still only met them a year ago. She doesn’t tell them some things as she’s sure they don’t tell her some things. It’s sort of an unspoken rule. Granted, they do know about her abuser — Miles is his name. And granted, they have both said she needed to tell them when or if she ever sees him or comes across him — because they will handle it. But she doesn’t want them to worry. They’re focused. They’re finally both doing okay, and that should be all that matters. Truly. The television in her room is a small screen. She had it in her room at her old house. The book she was reading is still open, her hand pressed gently on the pages to keep her place. She’s been like this since breakfast. Watching a movie and reading, sometimes simultaneously. Anything to keep her awake and distracted. She can’t think about him. Miles. It hurts too much to remember. And the flashbacks always return in tidal waves when she sees him. But she’ll be fine. In a week. Maybe. She isn’t used to seeing him so frequently. She wishes she didn’t see him at all, but apparently he has other plans if he continues to show up wherever she goes. He stalked her before. She should know better. It’s practically part of his personality. She should’ve known better than to get involved with him in the first place. She should’ve known better. She groans, moving her hand to rub her forehead, but then she scares herself, the rustling pages of her book as it closes rapidly making her heart nearly jump out of her chest. She flinches harshly, sighing in irritation when she realizes it was only the stupid book that made the noise. Sam watches the moment from her doorway. She had left her door cracked open on accident, and he was coming to check on her when he heard her groan. Tentatively, he taps his knuckles against the doorframe. “Hey.” She jumps at the sound, only furthering his concern. “Hi,” she breathes, tucking her legs under herself as she gestures for him to come inside. “What’s up?” Sam shrugs, leaning against the edge of the desk in her room. “I was coming to check on you. You seemed kinda tired at breakfast.” Shit, he noticed. She quickly tries to cover it up. “Oh,” she shakes her head, but stops quickly. It only makes her dizzy. “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.” Or the night before last. But it’s fine, really. Underneath her shirt — her soft, cotton shirt that isn’t supposed to irritate her skin, dammit — the eczema rages wildly. She presses her hand against the spot underneath her shirt, grimacing at the stinging heat she feels. “Is it bad again?” “What? No, I’m not bad again, I’m okay.” Sam raises an eyebrow. “Your eczema. Here, let me see.” He steps closer, but her mind doesn’t like that. She doesn’t see Sam then, she just sees Miles. “Here, let me see.” As if he had cared. As if the bloodied lip she was sporting wasn’t done by his hand. As if his new sincerity was going to take back what he had just done moments before. Sam immediately stops in his tracks, holding his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not moving. I’ll stay over here. You’re okay.” “Sorry,” she sputters out, scooting back to the middle of the bed. She nearly fell off trying to escape Miles— Sam. Sam is standing in front of her. It’s just Sam. “I’m not really feeling well, so if you could just—” “Okay,” Sam understands all too well. “Do you need anything?” She chews on the inside of her lip, her eyes trying to focus on him, but failing. Her eyes are threatening to close again, but she doesn’t want to concern him anymore than she already has. “I’m okay. Thank you.” “Okay,” he still doesn’t sound convinced, but he walks out, pulling her door almost closed as he leaves. She lets out a breath of relief as his footsteps echo back down the hall. +++ The next time Sam looks through the crack in her door to check on her, she’s reading. But the television is still on in front of her. And he sees her sketchbook open beside her. Not to mention, her headphones plugged into her phone, which rests by her feet. Too many things at once. He shakes his head, wondering what’s wrong with her. +++ It’s late — or early, whatever — when she ventures into the kitchen. Five in the morning, maybe? She isn’t sure. Nothing really looks clear anymore. It’s a wonder she managed to make it this far to the kitchen without falling on her face. She tries not to make a sound, hoping to be back in bed by the time the boys wake up, but her plan is quickly foiled by a coffee cup that is closer than she thought. It clatters to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. She says, “Shit,” out of habit, but is frozen in place. She blinks. She sees him, standing there, face red with anger. She had dropped his favorite glass — or was it a bowl? She can’t remember much about that night. Miles wasn’t happy and made sure she felt it. Every bit of it. “Are you okay? Hey, are you in there?” A hand waving in front of her face. A gentle hand on her shoulder. “Wait, don’t move, there’s glass everywhere. Hang on.” Sam. She blinks back into reality, watching as he glances around the kitchen for something, but doesn’t find anything. He sighs. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” She thinks she nods. She isn’t sure. But he picks her up. He intends to place her on the bench at the table, but the second he lifts her into his arms, she’s like dead weight. He’s scared for a second, thinking she might’ve passed out or something, but her arms reach up on their own to wrap around his neck. He adjusts his grip with his arm under her legs, the other at her back. Her head falls onto his chest, but she’s keeping her eyes open, somehow. “When was the last time you slept?” She blinks slowly. “I don’t wanna sleep.” He sighs. He starts walking down the hall, heading back to her room. “You need to sleep.” “Can’t,” she murmurs. “Too many...memories.” “Memories?” He asks, but she doesn’t reply. He pushes her bedroom door open with his foot, leaving the light off as he brings her inside. He places her in the middle of the bed, instructing her to sleep. He returns to the kitchen, sweeping up the glass and disposing of the broken coffee cup. +++ Jack and Cas return to the bunker a little after eight in the morning. Dean makes breakfast for everyone. “Where’s Kay?” Jack, always curious, is the one to break the silence. “She should be sleeping,” Sam mutters. “Should be?” Dean questions with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “I don’t think she’s slept in three days, Dean,” Sam rubs his face tiredly. “I’m worried about her. Ever since she came back from getting food that day, she’s been off.” “Do I need to check on her?” “No, it’s fine, Cas, but thank you,” Sam shakes his head. “I’ll go check on her.” He stands from the table, earning worried glances from the other three. He quietly makes his way down the hallway, not wanting to wake her if she has fallen asleep, but he hopes for too much. Because there she is, sitting up in bed. She’s sketching in her notebook this time, but the book she’s reading is open next to her. He can hear the television, some rerun of some show, and he’s positive she has one headphone in her ear playing music. “Hey,” he lightly knocks on her door. “You okay?” “Yeah,” she replies, but it’s almost forced, like it takes everything out of her to say one word. “Did something happen?” She scratches at her arm almost absentmindedly. “Huh?” “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” “When did you last sleep?” She merely shrugs. “Kay.” “Fine.” “You’re not.” She grudgingly looks up at Sam, her eyes red with tears. She blinks slowly. Maybe those aren’t tears. Maybe she hasn’t slept. “I’m fine.” He gives her a disbelieving look. “Cas!” He calls out. She tilts her head, wondering why he’s calling for Cas. Cas is supposed to be out, she thought. Out with Jack. She can’t give it too much thought before her eyes are threatening to close again. She quickly focuses on something. The music in her left ear. A pop song. She forgot the name. But it’s good. It keeps her awake. Thankfully, Cas is the only one who comes down the hallway. “What is it?” Sam nods toward her in the bed, now staring off at her sketchbook, not moving. The two enter the room. Slowly, Sam begins taking away the distractions. He places the book on her nightstand. He switched the TV off. He grabs her sketchbook, placing it on her desk. She hasn’t moved. “When was the last time she slept?” “I don’t know,” Sam replies to Cas’s question with a frown. “Hey,” he carefully takes the headphone out of her ear. Her eyebrows furrow, and then her eyes go wide. “Wait, my stuff—” “You need to sleep,” Sam whispers, placing her phone on top of the book on her nightstand. “Come on, lay down.” She tries to protest, but her body is too tired. She lets him guide her down onto her pillows. The wave of exhaustion hits her almost immediately, and her immediate response is to fight it. She doesn’t want to dream. To dream of him. To relive anything. She can’t take it. It’s too much. “Sam, I’m fine, really.”

She begins trying to sit back up, and when she can’t even sit herself up because she’s so tired, Sam and Cas share a sad look. With a heavy sigh, Cas makes his way over to the bed. She’s exhausted, lying down because she can’t sit up, and still she finds energy to protest, “No, Cas, don’t—” “You need to rest,” Cas insists. “I can ease your pain.” Sam wants to ask him what he means. Cas can only sense pain when it is immense. Sam wants to ask if it is just the sheer exhaustion from not sleeping a wink for days or if it’s something else she isn’t saying.

“I’m not in pain,” she counters, but her eyes betray her words. “I just—” “You haven’t slept in days,” Sam interrupts. “And I don’t know why. But Cas can help you sleep, Kay, you need to.” Something about the tone of Sam’s voice — or maybe the look in his eyes, but she isn’t sure — has her body ready to give up the fight. She has kept herself awake and tucked away in her room because she didn’t want them to worry. And now he’s worried.

“Okay,” she blinks, trying to bring his face into focus, but honestly her vision hasn’t been clear in two days. “But you stay.” Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?” “You stay,” she says again, hoping the words make sense because her arm is itching again and it’s driving her crazy—

“Okay...” He nods, slowly lifting her scratching hand from her arm — surprisingly without any protests. “I’ll stay.” “Okay,” she nods, or tries to, but it’s dizzy. Everything is dizzy. Fuzzy. She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to will herself to fall asleep on her own, but that’s the problem with fighting sleep for too long: it becomes harder and harder for your body to give up the fight. Cas steps in before she has more time to change her mind. Her head falls to the side when he presses his fingers against her forehead, gently lulling her to sleep. “She should wake when she is ready,” Cas announces, turning to head back for the door. “Thanks Cas.” +++ Ten hours.

For ten hours, Sam sits in the chair by her bed, sometimes reading and sometimes watching her carefully. She sleeps peacefully, hardly tossing and turning. He doesn’t know if it’s because she’s having good dreams, or because her body was so exhausted that it is forcing her to stay still. But after ten hours — around six in the evening, she wakes, slowly. “Sam?” “Hey sleeping beauty,” he teases lightly, his words holding more concern than they do humor. Dean brings them both dinner. Kay eats in bed while Sam eats at the desk. She can see it. The worried glances he sends her every few minutes. It isn’t until later that she asks him about it. “Why did you...sit there while I slept?” “You asked me to stay,” he replies. “I did?” He nods, a little crushed she doesn’t remember, but not entirely disappointed. She was delirious. “You did.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “Will you stay again?”

“Yeah, let me go get some stuff to make a bed and I’ll—” “I meant here,” she gestures to the empty space in the bed next to her. “Please?” “Okay,” he nods. He leaves to change, but when he returns, he slides underneath the covers, pausing to be sure she’s still okay with this. She rolls onto her side, smiling softly as he settles in next to her. “Thank you.” “You already thanked me.” “Not for staying this time.” “You don’t need to thank me,” he replies, softly, gazing into her tired eyes. “You still look exhausted.” “I am.” “Go to sleep. I’ll stay,” he promises. She grabs his arm, causing a look of confusion to cross his face, but it dissolved when he sees what she is doing. She bends his elbow, creating a little pillow for her to rest her head on — despite there being two free pillows she could rest her head on. He chuckles as she curls into his chest, her head on his arm. And she sleeps. On her own. Peacefully. For the first time in days.

#sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #technically sam winchester x myself #written purely to make myself feel better #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester one shot #fluff #mentions of abuse #mentions of panic attack