#i am banging my head against the back of the bathtub sobbing

[sunfleurry]

Inches

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

A/N: Let me give you some fluff because I’ve posted only angst. Another repost from my old blog because ya girl has no time to write.

She woke up, flinching from the sunlight penetrating the flimsy white curtains. Her movements caused Harry to stir from behind her before he tightened his hold around her waist and kissed the back of her head.

“Good morning,” he said, morning voice making her toes curl.

Smiling, she turned around to face him and squeezed her hand between his head and the pillow, pulling his lips towards hers. “Good morning.”

He closed his eyes and kept her against him for a little longer. “I’m so tired. Let’s stay in bed all day,” he mumbled.

“We can’t, we have plans.”

Sighing, he nodded his head but didn’t move. She liked it when he was like this–relaxed and wholly himself without any stresses of the outside world weighing on him. His naked chest was pressed up against hers and she could almost hear the steady beat of his heart. At that moment, hers ached at how much she loved him. They’d been through so much in the last five years, but they were stronger than ever.

She ran her hands through his hair then paused. “Your hair is getting really long. Almost like you’re twenty-one again.” When he opened an eye to look at her, she said, “I like it.”

He nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed her right there. “I don’t. I need to cut it soon.”

“Shall we cut it?”

“I’m so happy I’m dating a hairstylist.”

“I’m not a hairstylist,” she giggled. “I just learned by cutting my brother’s hair. Poor kid.”

“You’re my hairstylist,” he cooed.

Laughing, she shoved him off her and proceeded to go wash up and get ready for the day.

After breakfast, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with towels surrounding him on the ground while she laid out a pair of scissors and a comb on the counter next to him.

She ran her hands through his wet hair and pointed at the mirror. “Alright, H, take it in. This is the last time you see yourself with this length for a while.” 

Harry brought his fist to his mouth and bit his knuckle, dramatically wincing at his reflection. “I don’t know if I’ll recognize myself after this.”

Rolling her eyes and stifling a smile, she clipped the back of his head. “Stop being so dramatic.”

He laughed, rubbing the part where she hit him. “You can start now before you give me a concussion.”

She climbed into the bathtub to stand behind him and started brushing his wet hair, clipping neat sections out of the way. She could see how her ministrations relaxed Harry through the mirror–his eyes were closed and he had a small content smile on his lips. She couldn’t help but give him a kiss on the cheek before she started cutting the hair on the back of his head.

As she got to the sides, Harry hummed when pieces of hair fell in front of him but didn’t say anything. He liked that she enjoyed cutting his hair and it also helped that she was good at it. He was admiring her through the mirror–her hair in a mess at the top of her head and her glasses perched a little too far down on her nose. She was wearing his white t-shirt that was big on her but not too big–as it only fell a quarter way to her knees–and peeking from underneath was her ridiculously expensive cotton shorts from her favourite lingerie store. The sight was one of many that he’d committed to memory and stowed away in his mind to look back on when he was away for work again.

A few minutes later, she stepped over the tub again and proceeded to push his knees apart in order to squeeze herself in between his legs.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re a little handsy today. If you wanted to be between my legs, you just had to ask and I–”

“Oh, piss off,” she slapped his thigh, “or else I’ll give you one inch bangs.”

He gasped and brought a hand to his mouth, pretending to zip it up and throw away an imaginary key.

As she cut his hair, he had to hold back a stupid smile at the furrow in eyebrows. He found her concentration to be cute. She shivered slightly when he rested his palms against the back of her legs and slid them up her thighs to cup the skin right underneath her butt.

“I’m going to mess up if you keep this up,” she mumbled.

“I trust you.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Before she was even able to register his words, her body reacted in shock and accidentally cut a part of his bangs clean off.

Her gasp caught Harry’s attention and he looked up only to see his girlfriend staring wide-eyed at him with a big chunk of hair held in her fist.

“What did you just say?”

“Did you just mess up my hair?” He tried to look at the mirror behind her, but she blocked his vision.

“Harry–”

Giving up, he cupped her face in his palms. “Of course I want to marry you, love. Don’t you?”

“Of course,” she breathed.

“Well then,” Harry smiled and backed up to look at the hair in her hands. “This is definitely not a part of the haircut is it?”

She gave him a sheepish smile and slid her arms around his neck to surreptitiously drop the hair in the bathtub behind him. “No, it looks fine,” she eyed the gap between two long pieces of hair, “it’s fine.”

Harry knew she was trying to convince herself, but he wasn’t mad. Frankly, it was his fault for dropping that bomb on her while holding a pair of scissors to his hair.

She kissed him once. “It’ll grow back.” Kissed him again. “You’re still the handsomest.”

“Am I now?”

She pulled him in for a deeper kiss. “Always,” she mumbled against his lips.

Harry couldn’t contain himself anymore. He wrapped his arms around her waist and stood up, holding her against him in the process. He carried her to their room then laid her down on the bed.

“I don’t believe you,” he laughed.

“Gross, Harry, you’re getting hair all over the bed! You could’ve at least brushed it off.”

“If you doubted I ever loved you before, just know the fact that I’m still so enamoured even after you’ve ruined my precious hair should prove you wrong.”

He looked funny with his hair gracefully falling onto his forehead–a generous chunk missing. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst into laughter, tears running down her face, yet she still managed to squeeze in “I’m sorry” between each round of laughter. He soon joined her and jumped on top of her, almost making them both fall off the bed. This resulted in more hysterics.

A few minutes later, after having calmed down, Harry laid on his back with her head resting against his chest and her arm wrapped around his waist. They were both catching their breaths from the fit they just had.

He whispered her name.

“Yeah?”

“I was supposed to ask you at dinner tonight, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

She sat up on her knees and peered at him quizzically.

“Stay here,” he quickly said.

Before she could answer, he got up and disappeared inside their shared walk-in closet then re-emerged with a velvet box tucked in his hand.

When she caught sight at what he held, it felt like emotions flooded in her bloodstream and spread through every inch of her body. Shock, elation, love.

He climbed back on the bed and faced her, catching sight of her silver-lined eyes. He resisted the urge to reach for her face to catch the tears that he knew were about to fall any second.

“I love you. I loved you before we started dating, I loved you when I asked you to be my girlfriend and I loved you when I asked you to move in with me. I love everything about you, from the way you can’t help but sing along to every single song you hear, even the ones you don’t know the lyrics to, to the way you eat the crust of your sandwiches first, before eating the rest of it. I love you so much that I have no doubt in my mind that when we’re nothing but memories left on this earth, my soul will continue to love you. I can’t spend another day without seeing a ring that I gave you on your finger, so I have to ask you this: My love, will you marry me?”

She was speechless, but that didn’t mean she was paralyzed. Without a second thought, she threw herself at him and he caught her .He held her against his chest and stroked her hair as she nodded furiously, and when her chest heaved with sobs, he tried soothing her with his words. He couldn’t suppress the smile gracing his features at the realization that she’d agreed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he hummed, “please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I’m just so happy,” she sniffled, looking up at his eyes.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Even though we’re wearing barely anything and there’s a large chunk of hair missing from your head?” She laughed through her sobs.

Harry grinned.

“Of course, I’ll marry you, you idiot.”

He slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her in to kiss her with as much passion he can muster up. She pulled him closer, muttering “I love you” between each kiss.

After what felt like forever, they pulled away and he slid the ring on her shaking hand. And for the rest of the day, they changed their minds and decided to stay in. They stayed in and spent their time showing each other how much they loved one another with not only their words, but with their bodies, accompanied by a gorgeous diamond which sealed their future together.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

[whumpasaurus101]

Be a Good Guest & Pheonix Collab! Part 3

the amazing Walter and Gabriel belong to @jordanstrophe !!!

Previous

Jordan's Masterlist / My Masterlist

CW: drowning / beating / belt whipping / parental whumper / creepy whumper and as Jordan says, *takes a deep breath* parental, overprotective, possessive and intimated whumpers

“So,” Mateo said, running his hand through his grey hair and blowing air out of his cheeks, “Let me get this straight; you two decided to run off and have your little ‘fun’. And please correct me if I'm wrong here!” Pheonix gulped, and closed his eyes, “I told him t-to come, he.... He didn't want to, but I made him I-” He was quickly cut off when Walter backhanded him harshly across his face. Pheonix looked up at him, holding his hand up to his red cheek. His mouth was open from shock. Gabriel let out a whimper.

“Bullshit!” Walter grabbed Pheonix’s collar of his shirt and yanked his head closer to his, “Let me tell you something young man, I can tell when someone lies, and boy can I see bright flashing warning lights coming from you!” Noah grinned a he stood in the hall, back against the corridor wall, arms crossed. He could relax now since Mateo could step in to save Pheonix.

Mateo cleared his throat, “Alright, that's it, Pheonix I don't know what the fuck has gotten into you. Get the fuck into our room.” Pheonix glared at Walter but was interrupted when Mateo grabbed him by the ear and dragged him to their room, calling behind him, “I do apologise, Walter, I’ll make sure my boy is punished. Noah, make sure you get everything my dear amigo wants while Pheonix and I are gone.”

“Si jefe por supuesto.”

---

Pheonix flinched as the hotel room door slammed shut. He took levelled breaths. He had only gotten threats from Mateo. He has seen Mateo mad, oh boy, he had. But never at him. His shirt was yanked and he was dragged into the bathroom. “Kneel,” Mateo ordered. Pheonix, knowing better, knelt, feeling the cold, stone tiles through his baggy tracksuit bottoms.

His heartbeat started racing as he watched Mateo turn on the shower and bath tap. Cold water ran into the bathtub and Pheonix squirmed uneasily on his knees. Mateo turned to Pheonix and put on a fake sympathetic smile, “Now now, don't look at me like that. I'll be honest, you did well, mi amor. I mean, I thought you would break your ‘buen chico’ phase.”

Pheonix looked down at the grey tiles, studying the perfectly aligned squares, “ ‘m sorry.” Mateo scoffed, “Mmhmm, oh you will be.”

---

Walter looked at Gabriel, “Oh Gabriel, whatever will I do with you? I thought I strictly instructed you to stay in our room.” Gabriel gulped, “Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Walter held up his hand, silencing him, “Ah-bah-bah-bah, I don't want to hear it, now, let's not waste time, go into our room.” Gabriel looked up at him, “But-”

“-Room, now.”

Walter slowly closed the room’s door, letting out a sigh. Gabriel shifted awkwardly between his two feet. He looked up at Walter with tears in his eyes. Walter tilted his head and cupped Gabriel’s tear-stained face, “Now, now, don’t look at me like that. You know that I’m doing this for your own good. So, what were you think when you decided to try to run off?”

Gabriel gulped, fidgeting with his hands behind his back, Pheonix had taken the blame, if Gabriel told a different story and both of their stories didn't match, Pheonix would get into so much more trouble than he already is in.

He sighed, “I told him to-” He was backhanded. “And now you're lying as well! Jesus Christ! I have done so much for you! I brought you into my house after your car accident I- I took care of you and gave you a roof over your head! And you repay me with this?” Gabriel opened his mouth but didn't dare say a word.

“I wanted to do one thing, one thing for myself, and you had to go and be selfish. Anyway, that's not what’s important. What's important is that you understand that you need to stay with me all the time. I mean, can you imagine what would happen if you were left all by yourself out there all by yourself?”

Gabriel looked at him, “Wh-what?”

Walter shrugged, “I mean, all those mean people out there, and then the manipulators! You shouldn't trust Pheonix, you know?” Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed, “But-”

“Ah-ah-ah, you don't know him as much as I do.”

No, this couldn't be right, Pheonix had seemed so nice earlier! Walter circled him slowly, arms folded, “But, those stories can wait for later. I mean, as much as I hate doing this, I will have to punish you. I mean, could imagine if I didn't? You would probably try and run away again and again!” Gabriel sighed. He was still so confused about Pheonix, it was all too much for him.

“Kneel for me and put out your hands.”

---

Pheonix thrashed as his head was once again is head was shoved underwater. He had inhaled gallons of water at this point. He could feel as if his lungs were filling up with water. When Pheonix tried to push his head up, Mateo shoved it hard, back into the water, making him bang his head hard off of the bottom of the bath.

Finally, Marco lifted Pheonix’s head up by his hair which hadn't been cut since his capturing. Pheonix coughed and spluttered, heaving for air. “Okay mi amor, feel like talking now?” Pheonix gasped for air, “I-I told him t-” His head was back under the water before he could finish his sentence.

His hands were tied behind his back from earlier when he had hit Mateo by accident from struggling. Just when Mateo felt Pheonix starting to go limp, he lifted his head back up and threw him back on the tiles. Pheonix’s head hit the tiles again, ouch.

“Okay rebelde, I don't want you passing out on me, but I’m not finished either. Pheonix groaned on the floor. He was too tired. Too tired for all of this! Just as he was drifting off, an almost burning sensation lit fire to his skin. He let out a yell and snapped open his eyes.

There was a knife plunged into his arm. “AGH! WHAT THE FUCK!” His voice was hoarse from all of the water. Mateo chuckled, “Calma, calma. Don't mind me, I’m just simply… doodling!” He dragged the knife further down his arm, almost… snake-like. Oh fuck.

---

Gabriel knelt, back facing Walter who stood behind him. His hands were tied to one of the bed’s legs with a zip tie and his shirt had been ripped off. His breath was uneven as the unknown lurked and haunted him. He heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled and he gulped.

“Now remember, I am getting no enjoyment whatsoever firm this. I just hope you learn your lesson so this won’t have to continue.” Before Gabriel could say anything back, the belt was brought down hard against his back. He let out a torn scream as his back lit up with pain.

“Shh, shhh, don't get upset, this is just so you learn.” *crack*

How was this so sore?!

*crack*

This was going to be hell.

---

Pheonix sat on the edge of the hotel’s bathtub as Mateo wrapped a bandage tight around his wound. Pheonix was shivering from the cold water which was still soaked into his shirt, hair and face.

He yelped when Mateo tightened the bandage too tight. Mateo mumbled a, “Lo siento.” But it was more of a grunt. He was still angry at Pheonix. Mateo tucked the end of the fresh bandage and sighed, “I’ll let you sleep on our bed if you just tell me what happened.” Pheonix hung his head, “I told Gabriel to leave his room.”

“Jesús, dame fuerza. Forget it, you sleep in here tonight. Now, I might leave but you’ll be staying in here until tomorrow morning. We’ll see how Gabriel holds up. I bet he has told Walter the truth. No worries though, I'll tell Aurora all about it once we get back home!”

Pheonix gulped and nodded, “I’m- I'm sorry, I just saw how sad Gabriel was and I wanted to see him smile. We-we weren't going to try and run away, I promise! Just when he finished playing the piano. That was his escape from reality and when he stopped, his face just looked so… -empty.”

Mateo chuckled, “Alright, keep it in your pants puta. That's sweet actually, but it still doesn't make up for leaving when I didn't know. You don't understand what Walter is like with Gabriel, he doesn't want him out of his sight! So you better be careful around Walter, I’d say he’ll take any chance he has to punish you,” Mateo chuckled.

Pheonix took a few deep breaths, great, now two people had a strong hating for him.

---

After ten minutes, Gabriel was curled in on himself, sobbing and whimpering. His back felt torn and shredded. The pain was immense. He flinched at the cold hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, shh shh shh. It's alright, it's over. Have you learned your lesson?” Gabriel nodded quickly, taking a few shuddered breaths, “Y-yes! I- I’m so sorry! I won't leave again!”

Walter smiled to himself, “Good boy, and do you understand why I did it?” Gabriel gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, “Be-because you are trying to protect me.” Walter grinned, “Exactly! Look at you! Now, sleep well tonight, you had a big adventure and it’s late. Can I trust you without tying you to the bed?” Gabriel nodded quickly and Walter smiled, running his hand through Gabriel’s hair, “Good boy.”

---

That night, Phoenix laid on the bathroom tiles. Mateo had taken all of the towels, leaving Pheonix soaking wet, shivering and very very uncomfortable. All that was running through his head was what the fuck was going to happen tomorrow?

---

taglist: @milk-carton-offical @jordanstrophe ehheh @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump @yesthisiswhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#collab #!! #part three #whump #whump story #whump collab #Gabriel #Walter #Pheonix #Mateo #drowning #beating #belt beating #punishment #parental whumper #creepy whumper #possessive whumper

[ur-not-reddie]

I Can’t See Without the Lights

a/n: ahhh!! it’s late, but it’s finally here! the soft streddie i promised you all :’) this is my first time writing streddie so i’m a lil nervous and i’m sorry if it’s not the best. regardless, i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: streddie

warnings: feels galore  

word count: 1.7k 

for context: this takes place summer of their sophomore year, in college, when they go back to derry to visit family 

-

Stan exhales heavily as he steps out of his car, bolting down the street to Richie’s house. Stan goes around the back of the house, climbing over the gate as silently as he can, just in case Richie’s parents are home. He sees that every room in the house is dark except Richie’s where he can see the half broken, dim lamp illuminating his room. 

Stan then sneaks through the back door, Richie always leaving it unlocked for when he and Eddie sneak over. He heads upstairs, seeing Richie’s parents room is empty and dark. He opens Richie’s door, nearly scaring him half to death. 

“Jesus, Stan, w-” 

“We have to go!” Stan cuts Richie off in a panic.  

“What? Why?” Richie asks, sitting upright in his chair that's placed at his desk. “You’re freaking me out, My Man.”

“Something happened to Eddie!” Stan says in distress, starting to pace around the room as Richie jumps to his feet. 

“What?” Richie asks again, hoping he misunderstood what Stan said as trepidation floods his veins. “What do you mean something happened to Eddie?!” 

“I don’t know!” Stan yells, feeding off of Richie’s panic. “He texted me and it doesn’t make any sense which makes me feel like something’s wrong!” tears start to pool in Stan’s eyes. “Come on! We have to go!” 

Richie grabs the first shoes he sees, not the same pair, but he doesn’t care. They dart out the front door and into Richie’s car. They speed to Eddie’s house, Richie grateful they live in a small town otherwise they’d most definitely be pulled over. They make it there, storming inside as they call out for Eddie. Richie begins searching downstairs, as Stan goes up. He first looks in Eddie’s room when he hears faint crying. 

“Eddie?” Stan asks, stepping out of the room when he notices that the bathroom door is closed. Stan walks up to the door, pressing his ear against the cool wood as he hears more muffled crying. “Eddie?” Stan asks again, knocking on the door, trying the knob, but it’s locked. That’s when Stan hears a crash, followed by a loud bang, crying and hyperventilating. “Oh, shit… Richie!” Stan yells. “He’s up here!” Richie stumbles up the stairs and meets Stan at the bathroom door. 

“He’s in there?” Richie asks, panting as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Yes!” Stan tries to twist the locked door handle again. “There was a loud noise and now it sounds like he can’t breathe!” Stan starts to pace again. 

“Stan, it’s okay. He’ll be okay.” Richie tries his best to keep his composure as he attempts to calm Stan down. 

“Oh god!” Stan panics more. “Richie, what are we going to do?!” 

“Stanley!” Richie raises his voice, grabbing Stan’s face gently. “You. Need. To. Calm. Down. I can’t have both of you freaking out. So, please, relax, and we need to help Eddie.” Stan nods, taking a deep breath as he tries his best to have a clear and rational mind. “Go around the side of the house and climb through the bathroom window, it’s never locked, remember? Unlock the door and I’ll go grab Eddie’s inhaler.” 

Stan scurries back down the stairs, out the back door and to the bathroom window. He slides it open, climbs inside and sees Eddie clinging to the edge of the bathtub. He instantly notices Eddie’s bloody nose, bruised cheek, his shirt nearly ripped in half and pills littered all over. 

“Oh, Eddie.” Stan whimpers at the sight, running to Eddie’s side and dropping to his knees as he embraces his fragile frame. “What happened?” Stan asks gently, wiping Eddie’s tears away when he hears Richie knocking on the door. 

“Stan? Are you in there? Let me in.” Richie knocks more. Stan crawls over quickly, opens the door before going back to Eddie, pulling him in his lap. “Hey, Eds.” Richie walks in, kneels down and holds out Eddie’s inhaler for him. “What’s going on?” Richie also notices the state of Eddie and he’s doing everything he can to keep himself collected. He wants to scream, punch someone or something, hold Eddie and never let him go. 

“Eddie,” Stan says, shifting Eddie so he’s better placed in his lap. “Come on,” he helps Eddie use his inhaler and gain control of his breathing. 

“Eddie, what happened?” Richie asks again, moving some hair out of Eddie’s view. Eddie opens his mouth only for him to burst into a whole other fit of sobs, throwing himself into Richie’s arms. Stan sighs, feeling his heart sink into his stomach as he rubs Eddie’s back. “Eddie, baby, you need to use your words. We can’t help you if you don’t use your words.” 

Stan starts to sob, hugging the back of Eddie before he stands up, walking over to the cabinet and pulling out the first-aid kit that’s always stocked full. He grabs it then grabs a clean cloth, wetting it with warm water and heads back over to the other two. Richie turns Eddie around in his lap so he’s facing Stan as Stan starts to wipe the blood from Eddie’s nose and face. 

“Are you going to tell us what happened, Eds?” Richie asks again, his voice soft like snow as he rubs Eddie’s leg gently. 

“I don’t want to tell you,” Eddie finally says, sniffing as Stan keeps cleaning his nose. 

“Eddie,” Stan sighs, stroking Eddie’s cheek with his thumb and kissing his lips gently. “You know you can tell us anything.” 

“I know, but, it’s just-” Eddie is cut off by his own cries once again. Stan closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Eddie’s as he cries more with him - it hurts him to see Eddie cry. Richie pulls both of his boys close to him. 

“Stan,” Richie says, grabbing Stan’s chin gently and tilting his head up, meeting each other’s gaze. “Why don’t you go get us some water and I’ll try to calm Eddie down more.” Stan nods, hugging Eddie before he exits the bathroom. “Eddie,” Richie shifts Eddie so that he’s able to look at him. “You need to tell me what happened.” Richie is delicate with his tone. 

“No. I don’t want to tell you.” Eddie closes his eyes as more tears fall. 

“But you need to, baby.” Richie gives a weak smile. 

“No, Richie, I can’t!” Eddie’s voice quivers as he tries not to break down again. “It’s too embarrassing…” he nearly whispers, feeling beyond ashamed as he leans in and rests his head on Richie’s chest. “And I think you’d be fucking pissed…” 

“Yes, Eddie, I am going to be fucking pissed!” Richie raises his voice slightly, Eddie starting to cave in on himself. “How could I not bed, Eds?” Richie’s voice is calm and light again, rubbing Eddie’s back. “Someone hurt you and knowing that I, or Stan, couldn’t be there to help makes me a bit frustrated.” 

“No one did this, I fell.” Eddie tries to lie as he wipes his eyes. 

“Don’t you dare give me that, Eds. I know damn well you didn’t fall.” Eddie stays silent knowing if he opens his mouth again, it’ll be unbelievable lies. “Can you look at me, please?” Eddie takes a slow, deep breath before finally meeting Richie’s eyes. “There are those pretty eyes I love to see.” Eddie blushes, batting his lashes as Richie kisses his lips tenderly. 

Stan then enters the bathroom again, placing three water bottles on the floor as he sits back down. Eddie lets go of Richie and clings back to Stan, sighing softly as he fumbles with the material on Stan’s shirt. 

“He tried to tell me he fell,” Richie informs Stan. Stan hums, trying to process as he starts rubbing Eddie’s back again. 

“I don’t want to tell you guys…” Eddie’s words are slightly muffled due to his face buried in Stan’s chest. “It’s embarrassing and I’m just so… weak.” Eddie’s voice strains on the last word. 

“Don’t say that, Eds.” Richie says, running his fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

“You’re not weak at all, my sweet boy.” Stan half whispers, leaning his head on top of Eddie’s. “You’re still here and you’re brave as hell for doing so.” 

“Stanley’s right,” Richie agrees. “And you’re brave as hell for being here too.” Richie smiles, grabbing Stan’s hand, rubbing his thumb across Stan’s scars in a loving manner. Stan blushes at Richie’s words, leaning in and kissing Richie. 

The three sit in comfortable silence for over an hour. Stan and Richie stopped their questioning, letting Eddie think about how he wants to explain what happened to him. Eddie goes back and forth between the other two’s laps, finding comfort and contentment in both of them. Eddie takes a slow, deep breath, stretching and laying over both Richie and Stan. Eddie tries to think more, but exhaustion overrides him and he falls asleep. 

“What do you think happened?” Stan asks in a whisper, breaking the silence. 

“I have no idea,” Richie whispers back, running his fingers softly through Eddie’s hair. “We’ll find out tomorrow, he’s exhausted right now.” Stan nods, agreeing with Richie as a yawn escapes his mouth, causing Richie to chuckle. “Seems like my other baby is exhausted too,” Stan nods again, smiling weakly as he leans into Richie. “Okay, we’re not gonna sleep on the bathroom floor.” Richie lets out an air laugh as he sits Stan up. 

Stan lets out another yawn, stretching before standing up, pulling Eddie into his arms. Richie gets to his feet as well, turning off the light as they walk out of the bathroom and into Eddie’s room. Stan lays Eddie in the middle of the bed as him and Richie lay on either side of him. 

“I’m gonna fuck up whoever did that to him,” Richie states angrily. 

“Richie, is that necessary?” Stan grabs Richie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“Yes!” Richie accidentally raises his voice, Stan shushing him. “If it were you, I’d do the same as well.” Stan smiles, leaning in and kisses Richie before pulling back. 

“You’re so brave,” Stan hums, laying his head down on the pillow, arm draped over Eddie as he quickly falls asleep. 

“Only for you,” Richie says, talking to both Stan and Eddie, kissing them both on the cheek before he joins them in sleep.

-

part two coming soon ;)

#streddie #reddie #steddie #stozier #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #stan uris #the losers club #losers club #it 2019 au #streddie fic #streddie fanfic

[wisewidow]

Gunshot Roses

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Her bite burns more than the poppies in my bullet wound sting.

I spent ninety-two hours waiting for a knock, ever since the phone call. Natasha was always so persuasive, sly with a snake's tongue, but she never used her fangs on me. I never felt poisoned until she called me saying to not trust Tony anymore. And even then her words bled into me like honey.

And before I came back to my senses she was gone.

Tony sat down with me the next day and urged me to cut her off, explained about how she'd betrayed them in Germany and was now on the run with Steve, Sam and Wanda. He warned me this would happen. They'd come looking for her, find her through her weaknesses. He offered me protection, and I was so inclined to take it.

"Don't trust Tony," she'd said, and I'd listened. "I'm coming back for you."

I was brought in to the CIA's office in New York. I was easy to find as soon as Tony had no choice but to relinquish my location, Nat and I's apartment, for the sake of keeping himself and Pepper safe. I don't blame him. Nat would do the same for me.

Nat would do the same for me.

I told them everything about our past because I knew I had to give them something true so they believed me when I honestly said I didn't know where she could have gone to hide, but I think everyone in the questioning room knew I was holding back the safehouses and fake identities I did know of. They couldn't prosecute me since I wasn't an Avenger, or an enhanced individual.

There was nothing they could do to me. Legally, at least.

The masked men came the following night. I wasn't sure who they worked for, no agency or government was off the table now that the Black Widow wasn't protected by her hero status. They could even have been petty thugs. Who was I to know? Natasha never wanted me in her world. I wouldn't have known her enemies.

"I'm going to ask you again," the one with the yellow teeth hissed, a thick needle pointed at my throat. "Where is the Widow?"

"She left me," I hiss, choking on my own coughs. "She left me, I don't know."

The injection isn't done lightly. It finds the vein in my neck and bites, so I scream at the pain. The woman grabs me by my hair and drags me to the bathroom.

By the time she forces me in the bathtub and cold water rains down on me, the world has turned fuzzy and sharp. I can see her eyes are blue, even in the dark, and they hurt to look at. Her hair looks more yellow than blonde. And then like a camera struggling to focus, the world becomes blurry and dark. She asks me the same questions. Where is she? Where is Natalia?

I see her in my mind. She's so close I can feel her heart beating against mine, but then a loud shot tears her away from me as my mind turns its attention to the gaping hole in my leg. I don't cry or scream, nor do I sob or shout. The blood turns to blossoming roses around my wound, the prettiest shades of red. Another series of loud bangs sound out and this time I don't flinch because I am not affected by them.

There are people shouting from the living room. The blonde woman aims her gun at my other leg. Bouquets of poppies shoot out of my calf, but they tear through my skin and this time I do cry a little, because poppies are known for not living long at all, and somehow I feel like my time is almost up.

"You want me to shoot her pretty little head next? Come on!"

"I'm running out of red flowers," I mutter, dazed.

"Get away from her," comes her voice.

I start laughing as I recognise it. Natasha, my guardian devil. "Oh," I giggle to the blonde woman, feeling my eyelids begin to shut, "you've got her now."

When I wake up, I see a familiar face I'd missed dearly. I notice him first, kind chocolate eyes but one swollen shut, a cut on his cheek, blood on his shirt. But he's smiling. I breathe a little easier and then observe my surroundings, coming to the conclusion that we're in a warehouse stocked to its metaphorical teeth with weapons, and I'm lying on a mattress with no sheet on the floor. Sam asks me if I'm okay, and I politely request that he takes the blankets off of me. I can't move my legs. I don't want to know what else is paralyzed.

He tucks them at my feet and begins to explain what happened in Germany, and Siberia, and how Steve broke them out of the Raft and then went with the Prince of Wakanda to his home with Bucky, a place he wouldn't be a danger to anyone again. Or himself.

"Where—" I wince and then refuse to say anything more.

Sam glances to a figure in the corner, who I recognise to be Wanda. She walks over hesitantly and kneels before me. "(Y/N), may I?"

I nod.

I feel her poking around my mind, cautious and gentle, and I notice the pain seep out of my body along with her strange power. I still refuse to speak.

"She wants to know where Natasha is," Wanda translates. "And then she wants to sleep."

Sam and her share a cautious look. Irritated, I repeat my inquiries in my head so harshly that the telepathic girl jumps in fright.

Sam sighs. "One of the men who attacked you escaped. The rest are dead. She promised not to kill this one, but Wanda's pretty sure she's lying."

"Good," I rasp. Then I close my eyes and drift off.

I stay at the safehouse for the next week, slowly recovering. I don't speak much, but Wanda seems fine with that and Sam chooses to focus on treating the two bullet wounds in my legs. Natasha still hasn't returned. Steve is arriving today.

There's not much to do beside lie down when you can't walk and there's no entertainment other than the dusty books stored away in a cabinet that Wanda had found while trying to exterminate a cockroach with her powers. I guess Natasha had supplied it, because it's in Russian. It's a Neil Gaiman, I think. I have it on me at all times so I can run my hands over the sentences she'd highlighted and scribbled in, the pages she'd dog-eared.

It's lonely. And frustrating. And I'm starting to hate her for her poison. They took my legs, my dignity, my home, my access to a fucking Netflix account, but who did I really have to blame for that?

I sit and seethe for another two days.

"(Y/N)," Wanda mutters, gently shaking me awake. "She's here."

I bite my lip and she helps me sit up. When Natasha finally walks in, I'm too exhausted to feel any type of emotion.

"No one's seen you for days," is all I can manage. My voice hurts from not using it.

She looks at her feet. Her long, wispy red hair has been chopped short and bleached to a near white. She's wearing a simple pair of dark jeans, plain tee and green bomber jacket. There's not a speck of blood on her clothes, not a weapon in view, not a hair out of place. But I've seen her back from a mission and bleeding and in need of a shower, and even then she never looked this vulnerable.

"Did you kill them?" I ask. "All of them?"

A simple nod.

I breathe out slowly. "Good."

"I was on my way to you the day you went with the CIA. I had to wait another day because I knew they were watching you. I had no idea they would come in and . . ." She looks at my legs.

"I won't be doing any cartwheels anytime soon," I retort dryly.

"You can't even touch your toes," she says with a small smile.

I let out a wet laugh and then rush to brush away any stray tears. "I'm so mad at you, Red."

"I know," she says softly. "I took away your choice when I took you here instead of the hospital. Tony would have protected you, you could have started over somewhere fresh, lived a normal life. But they're looking for you now."

"I know," I reassure her. "Sam and Wanda haven't told me, but I guessed it. And yeah, I'm a little pissed off that I didn't get the option of choosing, but it's not like I would have chosen to leave you."

Natasha shakes her head. "I wouldn't have let you. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. I hate that it did. If I could go back to Germany, I would . . . I would choose to stay with you at home."

"And watch your friends go down?" I shake my head. "Maybe I'm not the one who's too attached."

"Oh, you definitely are. You literally can't move right now."

"Bite me, Romanoff."

"Come and get me."

The next day, I do find the strength to yell at her until my voice goes raw. And the same time next year, we're still together.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff oneshot #scarlett johansson

[deascheck]

A Better Release

Summary: After Sam and Dean save you from a Wendigo, you hide in your bathroom and release your overwhelming panic and fear in the only way you know how- hurting yourself. Sam and Dean follow up and find you bloody, and decide to show you a better way to release your emotions.

Word count: 2749

Warnings: self harm!!

THIS COULD BE VERY TRIGGERING. HEED THE WARNINGS IF THIS IS A SENSITIVE TOPIC FOR YOU.

A/N: Inspired by @samdeancass ‘s story Panic Attack, which you can find under Sam Winchester on the pinned Masterlist. As someone who has struggled with self harm in the past, I know all too well the addiction of the release it offers. I wanted to write a fic that simultaneously offers alternatives to that action, and helps people who struggle with it realize they aren’t alone in going through the struggle of self harm.

@waywardimpalawriter @that-one-gay-girl @winchest09 I thought you guys might be interested in reading this!

You couldn’t believe your eyes. A monster that had all but killed you was burning, shot by a flare gun. The two men who had saved you had come out of nowhere. They must have been tracking the thing that had you trapped and bound.

“Are you alright?” The taller one asked.

Still in shock, you nodded. The monster, a Wendigo you’d heard them say, hadn’t had a chance to seriously hurt you.

“Let’s get you home then….?” The shorter one trailed off, clearly inquiring your name.

“Y/N,” you managed to get out. “My name is Y/N.”

“Sorry to meet under these circumstances, Y/N. My name is Sam, and that’s my brother Dean,” said the taller man. His hair was much longer than his brother’s, you observed.

You shook their hands, still trembling, and accepted the ride home. You gave Dean your address and sat back in your seat, staring into nothing as you tried to process what had happened.

Sam and Dean didn’t say much as Dean drove. You were clearly in shock and they didn’t want to press you, which you appreciated.

When they pulled into your driveway, you got out and numbly thanked them for saving you and for the ride. You then walked up to the front door and went inside.

Once inside, it was like your dam broke. You sank against the closed door and sobbed. The fear, the panic, the shock, all washed over you like a massive wave, drowning you as it surged. You felt overwhelmed and almost felt like you didn’t know what to physically do with yourself. Then the thought entered your head. Almost like it came in the back door of your mind, it slunk in. A dark thought.

You stood up and walked to the bathroom, needing a release. You opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a knife. You knew you had a problem if you were keeping your knife in the damn bathroom, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It’s what long sleeves and long pants were for.

Sitting against the bathtub, you crossed your legs Indian style and stretched out your arm across your knee, a couple paper towels under your arm. You took the knife in your hand and slowly dragged it across your forearm, a thick line of blood following the blade. The sharp pain was a sweet release. You threw your head back in relief as the pain washed over you and the blood dribbled down your arm. Your fear and shock began to fade. Eager for another release, you drew another, deeper line. This time blood easily flowed from the cut, soaking the paper towels underneath your arm and dripping down your leg. You sighed at the feel of the physical pain overtaking your emotional pain. You drew the blade across your arm one more time, the deepest cut yet. A steady stream of blood started pooling on the floor.

You realized you had gone too deep, but you didn’t care. All you wanted to feel was the sharp, throbbing pain of your new lacerations. Your vision started going fuzzy, and your brain knew it was from blood loss.

All of a sudden, almost as if in the distance, you heard your front door bang open and the sounds of heavy, hurried footsteps rang through the house. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had no idea who would have barged through your locked front door but you were too weak to do anything about it.

“Y/N!! Oh my god. Sam!” Dean crouched down beside you and wrapped his handkerchief around your deepest cut. His hands and his handkerchief quickly became slick with blood. Dean patted your face quickly, trying to keep you alert. “Y/N! Stay with me, ya hear? We’ve got you.” But it was no use. You had passed out.

By then Sam had gotten to the bathroom and looked down in shock at the amount of blood his brother was crouching in.

“Dammit. My handkerchief is too thin! Sam! Go grab the first aid kit from the car. We’ve gotta stitch her up,” Dean snapped.

Sam disappeared for a couple minutes before returning with the kit tucked in his arm. He set it on the sink’s counter and opened it quickly. Sam pulled out a needle and some thread and crouched next to Dean. “Let me do it,” he said. “I’m better at this than you are.”

Dean shifted so that Sam had full access. Dean lifted your arm to set it on his knee so that it was elevated and Sam could reach it easier. Sam started with the third cut, working as quickly and effectively as he could. Once the cut was stitched, he moved to the other two cuts. In minutes, he’d finished and they both sighed in relief. You’d remained out of it for the duration of the experience, but you were slowly starting to come to.

Your eyes opened and your vision started coming back. Your eyes came into focus and saw the two brothers crouched in front of you, worry etched on their faces.

“Umm. What are you guys doing? Why are you in my house?” You asked weakly.

Dean answered first. “Well, you were so out of it in the car, we were worried about you going into full shock. So after we left, we decided to turn around and check on you to make sure you were going to be ok before we left for good.” He looked at you with an unreadable look on his face. “I’m glad we turned around.”

Sam continued, “When you didn’t answer the door, we figured something was wrong. I mean, we hadn’t dropped you off that long ago, and we were worried maybe you were having shock symptoms.”

You smiled weakly. “Nope, no shock symptoms.”

Dean rolled his eyes so hard his whole head moved. “Look, sweetheart, this?” he motioned at the mess and at your arm. “This is not healthy. If we hadn’t shown up when we did, you could be dead right now. We saved you! You know why? So you could LIVE! Not so you could live, then kill yourself!” His voice was growing heated, though you could tell he was trying to keep his cool.

“Clearly you need a way to release negative emotions,” Sam said softly. “Am I right?”

You nodded, somewhat sheepishly. “I know this isn’t healthy. I know it’s dangerous. And clearly I went too far with it this time. But you don’t understand,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “This erases all the emotions I don’t want to deal with. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. The physical pain takes over and for those short, sweet moments, it’s all I know.”

Dean tilted his head, getting an idea. “You say it’s physical pain you want? I have an idea. Come on,” he stood and lifted you with him, grunting as he did. “You’re gonna come with us. But first, we’re gonna clean you up, and then we’ll go.”

He released you and you swayed on your feet, unsteady from the blood loss. “Woah there,” he said quickly. “On second thought, why don’t you sit, and we’ll take care of this.” Dean scooped you up, blood and all, and took you to the kitchen and sat you down.

Sam followed with the first aid kit, and asked, “Where are your washcloths and towels?”

“In the linen closet to the right of the bathroom,” you responded with what little strength you had.

Sam returned with a couple wet washcloths and a towel. Dean took the wet washcloths from him and gently started wiping your arm clean of the blood. Once it was cleaned to Dean’s satisfaction, he took the other washcloth and gingerly started wiping the blood from your legs. Sam looked at his brother with surprise on his face. He rarely saw this side of Dean.

You watched Dean as he wiped your legs clean, and quietly said, “Thank you, Dean.”

He merely nodded as he worked, but you could tell he was relaxing because his shoulders started to look less tense.

When the blood was all but gone, Dean told you to go get into a fresh set of clothes while he and Sam got everything cleaned up in the bathroom. Your eyes filled with tears at their kindness but you did as Dean asked.

You went to your room, tears running down your face. You pulled out a pair of loose, gray sweatpants and a baggy long-sleeved t-shirt and put them on, carefully putting your injured arm through the sleeve. Curiosity at what Dean had planned for you kept your thoughts busy as you dressed. You almost found yourself hurrying, interested to know where the brothers would take you.

Once the boys had cleaned up the bathroom for you, the three of you met back in the kitchen.

“Ready to go?” asked Dean with his eyebrows raised.

“I guess so,” you responded honestly.

“Good. Let’s head out,” said Dean. He opened the front door for you and Sam and followed you out, locking the door on his way out.

Sam opened the Impala’s backseat door for you, and you thanked him as you got in. Sam and Dean piled in and you were off.

They didn’t say much as they drove, only that it was going to be a solid four hour drive. You listened to the music playing, which you found amazing. It was a beautiful collection of classic rock. You knew a few of the songs, and found yourself humming along. One song, “Night Moves” by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, had you singing out loud, with the boys looking pleased as they sang with you. As you sang, you found yourself releasing all the pent up emotion you had and channeling it through your voice into the song. It almost felt passionate. You realized this was a good release. This was healthy. And effective. This was something that could replace your blade. You finished the song with gusto, pleased with yourself for having found something that you enjoyed enough to be able to use as a coping strategy. You wished you’d thought of it years ago.

Dean smiled as he listened to you sing. You had a pretty voice, and you weren’t afraid to belt it out. Sam also had a grin on his face as he thought about how much better of a headspace you were already in.

The drive went by in a blurred mix of singing and sleeping. When it came to an end, Sam and Dean found you slumped over sideways, sound asleep against the leather of the backseat.

Dean opened your door and gently shook you awake, mindful of your arm. “Y/N? We’re here. You gotta wake up now,” he said tenderly.

You slowly woke up, blinking blearily up at him. “Already? Wow. Ok,” you said sleepily.

You hopped out of the car and stretched. You were in a massive garage with multiple old fashioned cars and a couple motorcycles. Your eyes went wide as you took it all in.

Sam and Dean laughed at your expression. “Welcome to our home, Y/N,” said Sam proudly.

They led you to the main area of what turned out to be a bunker. Dean said, “Y/N, follow me. I’m going to show you a good way to release some emotions.”

You blushed faintly but followed him meekly down the stairs. He led you to a gym area and over to a punching bag. “Now,” he stated, “I’m no pro at releasing emotions in a healthy way. I tend to shove them down and pretend they don’t exist by punching walls and drinking whiskey for breakfast. But your response to negative emotions? That could kill you, and we aren’t having none of that. So, put these on.” Dean handed you a pair of gloves. Obediently, you put them on.

“Ok, now put your hands up in front of your face like this.” He demonstrated. “Good! Now, punch the bag using your good arm. Don’t want to be ripping none of Sam’s stitches now.”

You punched the bag as hard as you could with your non-injured arm and instantly felt better. You looked at him with a smile as he steadied the bag. “Good punch, Y/N,” he praised. “Now, do it again.” You punched the bag once more. This was something you could get used to.

“I like this,” you told Dean. “A lot. It feels good. Like, a release just rushes out of me when my fist impacts the bag.”

He smiled. “Sweetheart, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to feel like.”

You smiled back demurely and said, “I’m going to get myself one of these.”

Dean nodded in approval and quietly guided you back up to the main room of the bunker. Sam was waiting for you there with something in his hand.

“My turn,” he said.

Dean smirked. “I leave you in my brother’s capable hands, Y/N. I’ll be in the kitchen with a beer when you’re done.”

You acknowledged his comment and turned to Sam, waiting.

Sam put a journal on the table. “This,” he said. “Is one way I release my emotions.”

You looked at him. “You write?” “I do,” he said

You looked at him inquisitively. “Ok,” you replied hesitantly. “What do I write about?”

He smiled broadly. “Anything and everything,” he answered honestly. “I tend to write about our hunts. I write about the lore I learn about, the situation we find ourselves in… I write a bit more informatively, but it’s still a release for me. It acknowledges everything I’m feeling by creating a place of information. I don’t know if that makes sense,” he ducked his head shyly.

“No,” you said. “I like that idea.” With that, Sam handed you a pen and pushed the journal towards you. “It’s yours,” he said. “Give it a try.”

You nodded and sat down. You opened the journal to the first page and wrote “Y/N Y/L/N” and flipped the page. Thinking as you wrote, you started to write about your experience with the Wendigo, and about how the boys saved you. You wrote about everything you felt and what went through your mind. You wrote about your response to your emotions and about how Sam and Dean were offering you other methods of releasing your emotions. You wrote about how you discovered one on your own; singing. You wrote for the better part of two hours before you stopped.

Sighing, you put your pen down, feeling immensely better. You felt like you’d acknowledged everything you’d been feeling, and that by putting it down on paper, it was real but not necessarily defining you.

Sam looked up from the book that he was reading and smiled. “Done?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly. “That was fantastic.”

“I’m so glad you liked it. Do you feel better?” he asked with concern.

“I really do. Between the singing, the punching, and the writing, I feel completely in control and balanced.” And it was true. You felt validated and whole.

“Excellent,” he praised. “Let’s go find Dean and we can talk about next steps.”

You thought about what he said as he led you to the kitchen. Next steps? What could that mean?

Dean lifted his head up when the two of you entered the kitchen. He smiled at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “How’re you feelin’, sweetheart?”

“Much better,” you said softly. “Thank you, Sam, Dean. I mean it. I wouldn’t be here, let alone alive, if it weren’t for you two.”

“About being here,” said Sam. He looked at Dean who nodded at him. “I think you should stay here, with us, Y/N. You can use us as your support system, and you can help us prepare for hunts with research and stuff.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

Dean chuckled. “What do you say, kiddo?”

You nodded vigorously, trying not to cry. You pulled Dean up by his hand, and grabbed Sam and pulled him over to you. You wrapped your arms around their waists and hugged them together, unable to formulate words of gratitude. They put their arms around your shoulders and squeezed you gently, letting you know they had your back.

You could tell already, they were your new family. You were going to be alright.

#supernatural #supernatural writing #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #reader insert #deascheck

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Kill Them

Word Count: 1,871

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Eldon Styne (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Charlie Bradbury x Sister!Reader; Sam Winchester x Platonic!Reader; Dean Winchester x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: angst, death

A/N: Sorry it’s not that good, I just wanted to post once more before the new year!

A/N 2: I might write a part two???

Masterlist

“Charlie? It’s like 3 in the morning,” you groaned, sitting up in your bed as you heard the front door open.

“Hey, kid. Sam needs some help with something, I’ll call you in a bit to check in, okay?” she walked to your bed, leaning over as she kissed your forehead softly.

“How long are you gonna be gone for?” you asked.

“I don’t know yet. Stay here, keep your knife nearby, salt all the-” Charlie began.

“Salt all the entrances, I know,” you gave her a small smile as she grabbed her bag, waving to you as she walked out the door.

Your smile faded quickly, as worry began flooding through your mind. 

Something was going on with Dean, but you didn't know what. Charlie came back from Oz, and she was different. Everything seemed to be changing and everything was different, but everyone seemed to try and keep you out of it. Sam always tried to talk to you, and keep you in the loop, which you highly appreciated, but he still didn't tell you some of the stuff.

You tried to ignore the fear you felt for your sister. Some crazy family was after her and after you because of some magical book, but Sam burned the book. They were still after you. 

As the next few days went along, you began to grow more and more anxious. Charlie had only called you once, she stopped checking in every day. 

You paced around the hotel room nervously, debating whether or not to call her. Maybe she was on a hunt with Sam and Dean.

You shook your head, dialing Charlie’s number once again. After a few rings, it went to voicemail. You dialed Sam’s number, only for it to go to voicemail too. You finally decided to call Dean.

“Hey,” he picked up.

“Dean, can I talk to Charlie?” you asked.

He paused for a second before answering.

“Uhm, it’s Sam, sorry. Charlie’s busy right now, but I’ll tell her to call you as soon as she can,” he replied.

“What’s going on?” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I’ll talk to you later, gotta go,” he quickly hung up before you could ask anything more.

---

It had been nearly a week, still receiving no calls from any of them. Worrying was something you were used to doing, after knowing the Winchesters for so long. 

You currently paced around the living room, calling Sam once again.

“(Y/N),” he quickly answered, breathing heavily.

“Sam. Where are you? Where is Charlie? I haven't talked to any of you in so long,” you began to scold him.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he interrupted.

“I’m not done. Don’t you see the hundreds of missed calls you have? I haven't talked to my sister in so long. Just… tell me where you are. I’ll come to you,” you rubbed your head.

“Stay where you are. I promise you that Charlie will call you as soon as she can, okay?” Sam replied after a moment of silence.

“Sam, please,” you begged.

You were dangerously codependent on your older sister. But that's what happens when you lose your parents at such a young age. Charlie was all you had left. As much as you loved the Winchesters, you couldn't stand the thought of them pulling Charlie away from you.

“I gotta go, (Y/N),” he said softly.

“Sam, please-” you heard him hang up the phone as your eyes watered, clenching your jaw as you buried your face in your hands.

You held in your cries as your body began to shake.

---

You stood outside the bunker door, banging your fists harshly. 

It’s been too long. Sam hasn’t talked to you in three days, neither has Charlie.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” Sam jumped slightly, opening the door for you as you walked in, while he backed up.

“I am done messing around. I haven't talked to my sister in too long. Where is she,” you raised your voice.

“Shh, okay! Okay, I’ll take you to her now, okay? Just keep quiet, okay?” Sam said quickly, looking around cautiously.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the bunker, before pausing, hearing his phone ring. His face immediately dropped into worry, getting a call from Castiel.

“What?” his face dropped as you felt your heart ache.

He backed away from you, lowering his voice.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” sharp tears immediately flooded your eyes as you heard Sam talking to Castiel.

“(Y/N)...” he put his phone down, looking at you nervously.

“What did you do, Sam?” your voice broke as you put your hands on your face, trying to control your breathing.

“Sam! Sam!” you heard Dean yell, running to you and Sam.

“What the hell is the creep saying about Charlie? About the book?!” you could see Dean’s veins popping out of his neck as he yelled at Sam.

“We… We were just trying to help you,” his voice broke.

“Is she dead,” you whispered.

“No, s-she’s not dead,” Sam stuttered, as he looked down, avoiding eye contact from you and Dean.

“She just… she ran away. She just needed some time alone,” Sam shook his head.

“Alone? I told you to drop it, Sam! And now you got Charlie involved,” Dean slammed his fist on the wall, as you jumped slightly.

“Will you please tell me what's going on?” your voice squeaked as you looked at Sam.

“Dean has the Mark of Cain. I-It’s hurting him, it’s changing him, and… Charlie was trying to help me. She was trying to help Dean,” Sam sniffled.

“Why didn't you tell me any of this?” you cried.

“Charlie didn't want you to know. She just wanted to keep you safe, (Y/N). S-She’s not dead… she’s gonna be okay,” Sam said, trying to assure himself more than you.

You looked at Dean, seeing dark bags under his eyes, his eyes bloodshot as he gave Sam a deadly look.

“That’s it. I’m grabbing Eldon and we’re going to find Charlie,” Dean seethed in anger as he continued looking at Sam.

Sam nodded his head softly, walking into the bunker, heading towards the dungeon.

“Who's Eldon?” you asked Dean.

“This psycho comes from this family, they’re after Charlie now,” Dean clenched his jaw.

“Dean… if Charlie’s dead,” your voice broke as you paused, shutting your eyes tightly.

“She’s not dead, she’s gonna be okay,” Dean said.

Before you spoke again, Sam ran to the two of you, his eyes red.

“He’s gone. Eldon’s gone.”

---

You sat in the backseat of the Impala nervously, anxiously watching your leg bounce as you took big breaths.

You heard your phone ring, getting a call from Charlie.

“Charlie? W-Where are you?” you quickly answered, putting your phone on speaker.

“I’m at a hotel, I’m sorry I didn't call you, it’s just-” she started.

“What hotel? There's someone coming after you-” you felt your heart breaking as you heard someone banging at her door.

“Dean-” your voice broke.

He tensed, clenching his jaw as he stepped on the gas, driving faster.

“Charlie, listen to me, just give them whatever they want, okay?” Dean yelled.

She paused before exhaling sharply.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I can’t do that,” she said.

“Charlie, please. T-They’re not…” you stuttered, finding it hard to say what you had to.

“I love you, kid. You’re the best sister I could ever ask for. It’s always been us, and I’m so happy to have had you with me,” her voice began to fade as you heard ringing throughout your ears, your tears streaming down your face.

“Why are you saying goodbye?” your voice broke.

“Stay safe, kid. I love you,” she sniffled.

“Charlie, no-” you heard the phone disconnect as Sam turned back to face you, giving you a pitiful look.

You looked away from him, crying softly as you leaned against the seat.

---

“Stay in the car-” Dean started, turning to you as you pushed past him, grabbing your gun as you ran into the hotel room, hearing Sam and Dean yelling behind you.

You looked at the broken door as you entered, seeing Charlie’s bag spilled on the ground, with a chair knocked over.

You ran to the bathroom, kicking the door open as you froze, gasping softly as your eyes widened.

The one sight you weren't prepared for, seeing your big sister’s dead body in front of you.

She laid in the bathtub, legs hanging out, a knife buried in her stomach as you began to hyperventilate.

“(Y/N), oh my god,” Sam gasped, looking down at Charlie.

You stumbled backward, holding in your cries as you felt the world around you begin to fade. Your head began throbbing, hearing ringing in your ears as your vision blurred, tears in your eyes.

You heard Dean calling for you softly, as he wrapped his arms around you. You buried your head in his chest, sobbing loudly as you gripped onto him tightly.

---

You stood there, frozen, in shock as Sam and Dean carried Charlie’s body. You watched her body burn as your eyes were bloodshot.

“Charlie, you were-” Sam began to speak.

“Shut up,” you spat.

You felt both of the Winchesters looking down at you.

“(Y/N), I-” Sam began.

“No. Shut up. You don’t get to say anything. You’re the reason she’s dead,” you clenched your jaw tightly as you looked forward, keeping your eyes off of Sam.

“I didn't mean to,” his voice was a whisper as you yelled at him once more.

“You never mean to. It’s not like she matters to either of you, right? The two of you only care about saving yourselves to give a fuck about anyone else,” you yelled.

“Charlie was like a sister to us,” Dean started.

“She was like a sister to you. She was my sister, Dean. She was everything to me. She raised me, she took care of me. And now she’s dead. All because she wanted to help you,” your voice wavered as you turned your back on them.

“(Y/N), please,” Sam put his hand on your shoulder, as you pushed away from him, immediately turning as you made a fist, punching him in the face.

“(Y/N),” Dean started.

“I said shut up, Dean. Don’t pretend to know what this feels like. Every time you lose Sam he comes back. Every time Sam loses you, you come back. Just because you’re some dumb Winchester doesn't mean that everyone else has to suffer losses,” you raised your voice, trying to hide your pain.

“I’m sorry about Charlie, I’m sorry for what we did, it’s all Sam’s fault, okay?!” Dean yelled at you.

You could see Sam’s eyes flooded with tears as he bit his lip, holding in cries as he looked at you.

“Don’t talk to me again. Don’t try to track me down, don’t try to call me or text me. Just stay the hell away from me,” you yelled at the two of them.

“So then what are you gonna do now?!” Dean yelled.

“I'm gonna kill them,” you said, turning your back as you walked away from them.

“I’m gonna kill all of them.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #supernatural family #spn fic #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn angst #dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x platonic!reader #dean winchester x bradbury!reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester #sam winchester angst #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester x platonic!reader #sam winchester x bradbury!reader #charlie #charlie bradbury #charlie bradbury imagine #charlie bradbury x reader #charlie bradusby x sister!reader

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 20

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 20 - Wronged

Xiao Yu didn't make him do anything this time. Lin Yan pulled over a small bench and sat by the bathtub. When he opened his eyes again, Xiao Yu was lying on the edge of the bathtub, his face directly in front of Lin Yan's. Lin Yan almost fell off the bench in fright. He straightened himself, hand clutching at his chest.

What was wrong? Why was he suddenly so nervous? Lin Yan shook his head vigorously to get rid of the strange thoughts in his mind and took a deep breath. He gathered Xiao Yu's hair and soaked it in the water, building up suds in his hands. The temperature in the room from the summer night and two bodies was really uncomfortable, but the air around the ghost felt like it was being blown out of a refrigerator. Lin Yan, greedy for a bit of the coolness emanating off him, pressed his fingers against Xiao Yu's scalp, rubbing it gently. He couldn't help but proudly exclaim: "I'm pretty good at this, aren't I? Am I better than your maid?"

Xiao Yu raised his hand and touched his face. Lin Yan ducked, trying to dodge, but didn't get out of the way in time and his face was smeared with foam. He started playing with it, scooping the foam up and smearing it onto Xiao Yu's face. When he inadvertently wiped it on his eyes, Xiao Yu didn't duck away. He blinked and caught Lin Yan's wrist, and whispered, "That hurts."

"Don't-don't move, I'll help you wash it out." ​​Lin Yan was startled. He lowered the temperature of the faucet water and poured it over Xiao Yu's head. The ghost closed his eyes docilely, and his black hair flattened against his shoulders under the impact of the water. Lin Yan brushed away the foam on his eyelids with his fingers. He couldn't help but look down. A pair of long eyebrows that always appeared uneven, eyes slightly closed, neat sideburns, and the bridge of his nose so sharp, it was like a knife. . . It was really... how could a ghost look so pretty. . .

Lin Yan was in a daze, and a thought appeared in his mind.

A kiss. . . A kiss would be okay.

After all, he had been kissed so many times before.

He could just return the favour.

Lin Yan slowly lowered his head, and pressed his lips to Xiao Yu's cheek. . .

Bang. The cold metal shell of the showerhead slammed against the edge of the bathtub and made a muffled thud. Lin Yan was frightened and jumped back, and he came back to his senses. What he was doing? Lin Yan stared blankly at the showerhead that kept spraying water after it fell in the bathtub. From his neck all the way to his cheeks, he flushed as red as a cooked piece of shrimp.

He must have been out of his mind to try and kiss a ghost that was trying to kill him.

"Lin Yan." Xiao Yu gently called him, picking up the shower and placing it into Lin Yan's hand. His wet arms wrapped around Lin Yan's neck and forced his head down. Lin Yan reacted instinctively and tried to pull away. However, the ghost was too strong. One tried desperately to back away, the other dragging him forward. Lin Yan’s flip-flops slipped on the soapy floor. He lost his balance and pushed into Xiao Yu as he fell into the bathtub.

There was a muffled thump, and water splashed in all directions. Lin Yan was soaked from head to toe. He pulled himself up on the edge of the bath and spit out mouthfuls of water. He angrily wiped the soap bubbles off his face. He turned over, pushing Xiao Yu down and muttered: "Ok, you bastard, see if I help you now!" The sloshing water continued to make noise, and the two people huddled together in the hot water.

The steam accumulating in the bathroom grew thicker and thicker, and it was even getting difficult to see the outline of the door. The water vapour formed beads on the black and white shower curtain, rolling down in small drops. Lin Yan threw his drenched T-shirt onto the ground, lying side by side with Xiao Yu in only his boxers. Xiao Yu's whole body was as cool as marble, and it was very refreshing to stick to him.

Lin Yan stared at the ceiling and let out a long sigh of relief. It had been half a year, and this empty house had the touch of another human for the first time since Weiwei left. It just so happened that the human turned out to be a ghost.

It was like a real home. He could hear the mundane sounds of activities when he got back every day. Someone was there to watch TV with him during dinner. When he fell asleep, he could wrap his leg around the body of the person next to him. When he took a bath, there was someone splashing around and making trouble for him. There was someone there to complain about whether he put too much salt in their food or not, someone who could help him through nightmares. Lin Yan thought, whether it was the so-called 'love' or not, it felt good having someone by his side.

Lin Yan nudged Xiao Yu with his elbow, and sighed softly, "If you were still alive, we could be friends. You could come to my house for sweet and sour pork ribs on the weekend."

"Yin Zhou used to be cheeky and lounged around my place, but now he's too afraid and you and won't come anymore."

Xiao Yu suddenly turned his face and pulled on Lin Yan's arm, fixedly looking at him. He said slowly, ". . . Come with me."

"On July 15?" Lin Yan felt cold.

Xiao Yu nodded seriously.

Lin Yan stared at his fingers in a daze. He wasn't sure how to convince such a stubborn and domineering ghost, and he didn't want to disappoint him, but they were both just too different. He would look for a job, maybe get married, raise some kids, and spend the rest of his dull life eating and working. Xiao Yu should walk his own path, too. He walked through the Sanzu River, went over the Naihe Bridge, and drank the clear water from a wooden bowl. From then on, he could forget the past, treat his future as a blank piece of white paper and write himself a new life.

Pick up the pen, dip it in the ink, and forget about what came before. They should never have crossed paths.

"I can't." Lin Yan said softly, "I still have parents, friends. Xiao Yu, don't make things difficult. I have to live."

"No matter how difficult it is, I'll help you remember why you're here so you can fulfill your wish." Lin Yan sat up on the edge of the bathtub. "You have to be a good ghost so you can get reincarnated. Maybe we can meet again in the next life. I'll be a bearded old man by then, and I promise you won't be able to look away when you see me."

Lin Yan lifted up the edge of his wet boxers, stepping onto the tiles and trying to climb out. Suddenly a cold hand stretched out from underneath the water to grab his ankle, and then yanked hard. The bottom of the pool was wet and slippery. Lin Yan was already standing unsteadily, and he fell straight on his back. The moment his head hit the edge of the bathtub, it was cushioned by a palm. With a muffled sound, Lin Yan rested on the side of the bathtub with both hands under the water. The sharp pain in his back made him suck in a cold breath. When he opened his eyes, he was faced with a pair of cloudy pupils, reflecting his figure, infinitely embarrassed.

The surrounding temperature instantly cooled down.

Oh, he was angry.

After a moment of hesitation, Xiao Yu grabbed Lin Yan's hair and pressed him into the water. Lin Yan kicked his legs indiscriminately. The warm water rushed around from all directions. He was unable to breathe, unable to even make a sound. The warm water mixed with the shower gel poured into his mouth and went up his nose. Lin Yan shook his head helplessly under the water, and a hand that stretched out from the water squeezed Xiao Yu's wrist tightly.

The sound of the gurgling water seemed to be magnified by a loudspeaker when it hit his eardrums. His vision was distorted by the water flow, but he could make out Xiao Yu's wicked and vicious face. One hand wrapped around Lin Yan's neck and kept him underwater, the other hand wantonly stroking his chest.

The pain of suffocation and choking on water cut through his lungs like a razor blade. While his hair floated under the water, his eyes were wide open, full of fear and despair.

With a splash of water, Lin Yan was pulled up from under the water against Xiao Yu's waist and buckled softly against Xiao Yu's body. Unable to get up in a breath, Lin Yan closed his eyes and unconsciously squeezed Xiao Yu's arm. Lin Yan spit out a mouthful of water and started coughing violently until his back was beaten a few times.

It hurt everywhere. His nose, lungs, and back were all screaming like crazy. Lin Yan had never felt this crappy before in his life. He gasped for breath, coughing and spitting water, his ears buzzing. It was like a rag doll being pushed around by Xiao Yu. It took a long time to calm himself down, sobbing aggrievedly.

"Lin Yan, Lin Yan. . ." The hushed voice was full of anxiety, and his icy hand stroked down his back like he was a kitten.

"Don't touch me, stay away from me. . ." Lin Yan trembled on Xiao Yu's shoulder.

There was a small pop sound. The light in the bathroom went out, and their surroundings sank into dark silence.

The sudden darkness made Lin Yan's vision go black. All he could feel was a pair of cold hands supporting his waist. With a gentle tug, he fell back into Xiao Yu's arms. He tilted his head slightly, and his lips were sealed by the man's. His tongue was like a snake's, slithering in and licking around.

He was gentle, but he also wasn't allowing any room for Lin Yan to resist. Xiao Yu’s arms lay across his chest like steel tongs. Lin Yan couldn’t move his neck. He could only slightly tilt his head to match the other. He opened his lips and let the cool tongue slip in and out of his mouth. Then, the overwhelming emotions tumbled out, forcing him to respond.

The previous violent acts seemed to have allowed this ghost to gain complete control over him, but after three or two minutes of lingering teasing, Lin Yan's whole body softened, and the sudden breathing caused the pain in his chest to spike again. Lin Yan grabbed Xiao Yu's arm, muttering softly between the deep kisses: "It hurts. Xiao Yu, it hurts."

The steel tongs loosened, and Lin Yan leaned over the edge of the bathtub and coughed vigorously.

The cold hand rubbed his back and then started to lightly pat it. Until Lin Yan's breathing slowly calmed down, he clasped his abdomen from behind, hooking his arms around him and gently licked his earlobe.

"Hey. . ." After having an extremely sensitive place sucked repeatedly, Lin Yan couldn't help sucking in a breath and he curled up his legs.

The snake-like tongue refused to let him go. After getting that initial response, his tongue moved up his ear and made a suggestive sound beside it, while his palm restlessly stroked Lin Yan's chest, pressing into his incessantly. Lin Yan's breathing started to heat up. His whole body felt like it was on fire, but his mind was clear. Lin Yan pursed his lips and tried to control his body's reaction. With his head resting on Xiao Yu's shoulder, he raised his gaze to look at him. His eyes were filled with rage but also with desire. Looking at the pair of eyes filled with such vivid emotions, Xiao Yu was stunned. He lowered his head and continued to kiss him.

The handsome man curled up in his arms was like a cat. As Xiao Yu's kiss deepened, drool slipped out from the corners of Lin Yan's mouth. He only felt that his reactions were completely out of his control. Xiao Yu's bare legs were wedged between his knees, Lin Yan couldn't help but pester him further, his legs clamped around him and rubbed gently into him.

Like a slab of marble, he was firm and cold, a sharp contrast with the heat emanating from the bathtub.

Ever since this all started, he was constantly being teased. First, he was teased with being touched, then teased with him the sight of him. The ghost had kissed him everywhere from his fingers to his forehead in public crowds so often that it was even driving God crazy at this point. Lin Yan shifted desperately and wrapped his arms around Xiao Yu's waist, the desire that had been suppressed all night pouring out of him. Clearly, he had been born gay. Lin Yan hopelessly squeezed the ghost's waist. His heart was angry but his body felt like it was being electrified. Right up until Xiao Yu peeled off the thin pair of boxers he was wearing, his cold palms had been rubbing against his already very reactive member through the white cotton underwear.

"Go away." Lin Yan shook his head helplessly with a low voice: "Don't touch me."

The man's expression in front of him didn't change. His eyebrows stretched to his temples and the steam formed tiny droplets of water on his jade-like face, soaking his freshly washed black hair, it sticking to his face. His thin lips looked like they had been smeared with honey. The ghost couldn't blush, nor could he tremble and sweat like Lin Yan. Lin Yan panted heavily with Xiao Yu's movements, raising his gaze to stare at those chaotic eyes. Not a hint of clarity could be seen in them at this point. They looked like the eyes of a beast, filled with the intent to kill, holding no remorse. Xiao Yu hooked the edge of Lin Yan's underwear with his fingers, wrapping his hand around the limb that enthusiastically popped out.

A string of sparks exploded in Lin Yan's mind, the intense pleasure making him unable to resist biting down on the ghost's shoulder.

"Xiao Yu. . . you're already dead. . ."

". . . Please, don't. . ."

"Xiao Yu. . . let me go."

Lin Yan shook his head uncomfortably, one hand hooked around Xiao Yu's neck as his hand jerked, breathing more and more rapidly. Xiao Yu clenched his waist and spun him around so that he had to cross his legs around the other's hips, the stiffness between his thighs rubbing against Lin Yan's stomach. The shame and frustration of it all made Lin Yan unable to control himself. He must be going crazy. None of this should be happening. Ghosts and humans are two very different things. Even though he knew that the ghost was there to take his life, he couldn't resist. His heart was on fire, the steam in the bathroom felt boiling hot, the thrill of ravenous pleasure making him burn from the inside out.

"Don't touch me anymore. . ."

"Please, please, Xiao Yu. . . I feel like I'm dying. . ."

"I want, I want. . ." Lin Yan's nose was soaked in beads of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. He was flustered, talking nonsense like a beast in heat. Xiao Yu pulled his face towards him and kissed him again. Lin Yan stuck his tongue into Xiao Yu’s mouth and wrapped his lips around his to deepen it. The hand that was gripping Xiao Yu's shoulder was caught and led down to hold the large object pressed against his stomach. The two were entwined in the tub, moving in each other's hands.

Desire overtook him. Lin Yan whimpered and bit Xiao Yu’s neck. His hand was covered by Xiao Yu, leading him to grasp the two members touching each other. The almost masturbatory action completely shattered his self-esteem. At the same time, the desire that he had secretly concealed for years was magnified beyond what he could bear. In front of him was the nape of Xiao Yu's neck and the indentation of his collarbone. The hot organ between his thighs rubbed against Xiao Yu. The hot water came up just high enough to cover the frigid body of the other person. Lin Yan put his damp head on Xiao Yu's shoulders. His body arched. He let out a low groan and a white cloud was released all over Xiao Yu's body.

He must be crazy. Lin Yan panted heavily on Xiao Yu's shoulder. His vision was a bit blurry, but the eyes of the person under him seemed to grow cold for a moment. Before Lin Yan was able to calm himself down, Xiao Yu abruptly pushed him off and rolled out of the tub.

"What are you doing?" Lin Yan asked tremblingly on the edge of the bathtub.

Xiao Yu didn't respond. He picked up the shirt with a snake pattern embroidered on it that Lin Yan had thrown on the chair and draped it over his body. He turned his back to him, fixed his hair and tied the belt around himself. He looked back at him with a pair of cold black eyes filled with contempt, marched out of the bathroom and slammed the door heavily.

There was a muffled sound.

Lin Yan lay in the bathtub alone, clutching at the cold ceramic tiles with his soaking wet hands, unable to even get a word out.

With a small click, the light came back on.

[The author has something to say: it's spoiler time! The monster-catching squad is getting together again, and it's not to catch Xiao Yu this time, but a . . . Xiao Yu will be here as a monster catcher this time, too! The husband and wife are quarrelling. Warm and hearing little paragraph~

I'll explain the nature of ghosts. It was originally the task of the little Daoist priest in the following chapters, but since everyone is asking me, I'll tell you in advance. In the Maoshan religion, ghosts are creatures that are inferior to the living. They can cultivate into an ethereal body, and then a real body, which means that even the most powerful ghosts have to head towards the living realm to increase their power. Xiao Yu, as a ghost who has cultivated his true body, can control his form and maintain his human desire (lol, this is very important!). He's more like a demon or a monster than a ghost, lol~

He can sleep. I think it’s just a habit of being a human being. He can talk. Of course ghosts can talk. Xiao Yu’just degraded a bit after staying in the dark for a long time. He will naturally change back when he gets along with Lin Yan. . . He will become more and more like a human being. After all, he wants to marry a wife, right?]

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation

[cuddlepilefics]

22.    Christmas Fair

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Bang Chan

Caregiver: 2racha

 Chan’s POV.:

Officially we were on break over the seasonal holidays but me being the workaholic I am, I wasn’t able to sit still and do nothing. That’s why I went to the studio to work on some new tracks. It was much more fun to compose stuff if you could just play around a bit with out the pressure of deadlines. I spent most of the day alone at the studio, losing track of time as I tried out new beats. My members were probably resting at the dorm or roaming the city. There was a small Christmas fair in the town center and my phone kept blowing up with begging texts, asking if we could all go there together. After replying that I’d love to go there tomorrow because I’m busy at the moment, I muted my phone to avoid distractions as far as possible. When I finally shut my computer off and bundled into my coat, preparing for the walk home, it was already very late in the evening. I skipped lunch and haven’t had dinner yet, so I decided to pick up a bite to eat on the walk home. I’d be passing by the fair anyways, why not get something from one of the food-stands there.

 Changbin’s POV.:

Chan had been at the studio all day. It was already getting late and one by one my members all went to bed. The only ones remaining in the living room were Jisung and me. We felt a little guilty because our leader was still working and we didn’t. After all, it’s 3racha that produces the songs for stray kids and 3racha also includes Jisung and me, not just Chan. That’s why we grabbed notepads and worked on some lyrics, hoping they’d be of use when Chan would present us the new tracks he was working on. We had both tried to call Chan numerous times over the past thirty minutes to convince him to come home but he never picked up. Then suddenly my phone rang. “Chan?” – “Yeah, hey. I saw you tried to call me?” – “Yeah, we wanted to ask you to come home. It’s getting late.” – “Ah, I’m already on the way back. Y’all already had dinner, right?” – “Hyung, it’s almost midnight. Everyone accept for 3racha is asleep already.” – “I’ll eat a bit on the way, so it might take a bit longer. Should be home in about twenty minutes.” – “Alright, take care, hyung.” – “See you.” And with that the call ended.

 Chan’s POV.:

I didn’t really enter the fair because I mostly just wanted to get home quick, but I found a food stand on the outer edge of the fair which sold fish cakes. I bought a fish cake and also picked up a small bag of roasted chestnuts to snack on while walking. I stuffed the bad of chestnuts into my pocket, feeling the heat through the fabric, so I’d have my hands free to eat the fish cake. The meal was perfect to warm me up on a chilly night like this. I finished the fish cake and munched two of the chestnuts before arriving home and unlocking the door. After kicking off my shoes, I made my way to the living room, where I sound Changbin and Jisung between scattered sheets of paper. “Hyung, you’re finally back”, the youngest 3racha member whisper-shouted. “You are aware that we are on Christmas break, right hyung?”, the older rapper scolded. “Aish, yes I am”, I said directed at both of them, “But hey, I brought you some roasted chestnuts to make up for not being home.” Changbin just rolled his eyes at my poor attempt to distract them, while Jisung happily accepted the bag from me, immediately nibbling on one nut. I have to admit, he had never looked like a squirrel more than he did right now. We both chuckled at our youngest before saying good night and getting ready for bed.

The evening seemed to fade out peacefully but the truth was that my belated dinner turned out to have been a mistake. Or at least my food choice had been a mistake. The fish cake wasn’t agreeing with me so well. I couldn’t remember whether there were hints of it being undercooked or if it tasted weird, I just knew that my stomach wasn’t too happy about it. It had started to hurt a few minutes after I arrived home. Slowly the pain increased into cramps, that felt like somebody was stabbing the upper area of my abdomen with a dull knife. I knew that I should just go to bed, everybody else was asleep already. Maybe I’d be able to just sleep it off.

My attempts to sleep the pain off, ended about ten minutes later when the pain had turned into nausea. I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could because Changbin had just gone to bed and was probably not that deeply asleep yet. Slightly bent over with one arm around my middle and the other braced against the wall, I stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light. I did make it to the toilet but as soon as I had settled on my knees in front of it, the urge to throw up was gone. I pushed myself back up, groaning in frustration that I had gotten up unnecessarily but as soon as I was on my feet again, I immediately felt sick again. The cycle repeated itself a few times, till I decided to just stay in the bathroom whether I had to throw up in the end or not.

 Changbin’s POV.:

I hadn’t been asleep yet, when Chan left the room again. He was probably just going to the restroom, so I closed my eyes again, trying to go to sleep. When he still wasn’t back twenty minutes later, I suspected, he had snuck to the living room to continue working there on his laptop. It’s not like that had never happened before, so to me that was the most likely explanation for his disappearance. I was getting angry at our leader’s behavior, we were on Christmas break for duck’s sake, why couldn’t he just make use of the time he’s given to rest? Controlling my anger to not wake the younger Aussie in our room, I quietly pushed off the blanket and slipped out of the room, determined to drag our leader’s workaholic ass back to bed. When I got to the living room however, everything was dark. Now I really had no idea where my hyung could have gone. On the way back to my room, there was light shining through underneath the bathroom door.

I gently tapped my finger against the door, opening it when I heard a low “Yeah?”. Chan was resting with his back against the bathtub, looking up at me with dark circles under his eyes. “Hey, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?”, I frowned, noticing the yellowish pallor of his cheeks. “Kinda stuck here”, he mumbled, closing his eyes. “How so?”, I asked, taking a seat opposite of him. “Dinner’s not sitting well. I’m ok, it just hurts right now but everytime I try to get up, I feel like I’m going to be sick”, he breathed. “Was it the chestnuts?”, my eyes widened, remembering that Jisung had finished almost the entire bag. The leader shook his head: “Fish cake” Ok, at least that made only one sick member. “What are you going to do now? Just stay here for the night?”, I questioned. “Probably”, he shrugged, muffling a burp into his fist. “I actually hope I’d just throw up. I’ll probably be fine once it’s out”, he admitted uncharacteristically shy. I sighed and got up.

 Chan’s POV.:

Changbin just left and I was glad he’d get the sleep he needed, even though I really didn’t want to be alone right now, it was still better that making one of my dongsaengs stay awake with me. I could handle myself, always have. Could I really? Another twist of my stomach made me doubt it as my mouth started to water. I shifted back onto my knees in anticipation, when the door cracked open once again. I didn’t turn to look at whoever came in, not even when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I got you a bottle of water. Maybe if you chug that down really fast it will make everything come out”, Changbin whispered, setting the bottle down next to me. “Thought you had gone back to bed”, I mumbled sheepishly, wrapping my arms tighter around my middle and gritting my teeth as I was hit with another cramp. “And left you here? Never!”, my dongsaeng gasped. I felt really fuzzy and warm at this comment but was soon brought back to reality when a wave of nausea washed over me. I decided to go along with Changbin’s idea and uncapped the water bottle. Raising it to my lips, the very first sip made it clear that I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I struggled to swallow and it seemed like my mind was preventing me from putting anything else into my already upset stomach. Choking, I spat out the water that was still in my mouth, handing the bottle back. Luckily, the rapper got the hint and quickly took it from my hand. The coughing triggered a gag but that was it. “S-Sorry, c-can’t”, I forced out between clenched teeth, still hovering over the toilet. Changbin sighed and rubbed my back in soothing circles as I breathed heavily, on the edge of throwing up but not quite there. I could taste the fish cake, I could even feel it at the back of my throat but it just wouldn’t come out. Frustrated teeth make their way down my face and I didn’t even bother wiping the away, knowing there’d just be new ones.

 Jisung’s POV.:

I always needed some time to fall asleep. I heard shuffling in the hall and people talking in hushed voices but decided to stay in bed, if they don’t value their sleep, it’s their problem, not mine. Until I heard quiet sobs, that is. Startling at the different noise, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, careful to not wake the maknae I was sharing a room with. Padding down the hallway, I followed the noise, ending up in front of the bathroom door. I tapped the door twice as a warning, before carefully pushing it open and stepping in. Sitting on the bathroom floor, I found my other two 3racha members. “What’s going on?”, I yawned, squatting down next to them. With Chan seemingly unable to speak, Changbin answered for him, his hand never leaving the leader’s back: “Channie-hyung had a fish cake for dinner, which isn’t quite agreeing with him. He really needs to be sick but can’t. I tried to make him chug water but he can’t even get that down and I have no other idea what else to do.” Oh, that explains why our hyung is crying so hard. He must feel really bad if he’d voluntarily throw up. I chewed on my lips, thinking hard. The water would have been the first thing to come to my mind too but then I had a different idea. Grabbing a hair clip from the sink, I motioned for Changbin to switch positions with me. He nodded, watching me closely, trying to figure out what I wanted to do.

I knelt down behind my oldest hyung, clipping his bangs back in one swift motion. “Hyung, I’m going to hug you really tight, ok?”, I muttered into the leader’s ear. He nodded, removing his arms from his stomach, gripping onto the edge of the bathtub and toilet seat instead. I gently snaked my own arms around his middle, feeling his tense abs under my hands. “Just slap my arm if it hurts too bad or you want me to stop”, I warned before slowly tightening my arms around him, increasing the pressure I was putting on his stomach. At first nothing was happening, Chan only flinched a bit in pain, till he suddenly pithed forward in my hold, retching harshly. I could see his knuckles turning white, as he braced himself before retching again. This time, there was actually something coming up, although it wasn’t much. I closed my eyes, afraid the feeling of Chan’s stomach, contracting underneath my arms in combination with sight and smell, would send my own stomach over the edge. Instead, I just kept holding my hyung in a back hug, feeling every twitch of his muscles and following his movements when he jerked over the toilet bowl, trying to ignore the sounds of liquid hitting liquid. Every cough, gag or burp was amplified by the porcelain bowl, forcing me to grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, while trying to keep my grip steady. ‘Alright Sungie, just think of puppies, cute little puppies’ I told myself.

Changbin must have seen my face change color because he tapped my back before gently pushing me to the side and taking my place. I don’t usually get sympathy sick but that just now was really testing my limits. With a jerking motion of his head, he signaled for me to leave. His eyes told me that he got it handled and that I should flee as long as I still could. I nodded quickly, slipping out of the bathroom and closing the door between us. Shakily, I went to my room to get my phone and headphones to drown out the noise coming from the bathroom. Turning up the music, I went to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. While I waited for the water to boil, I fetched two peppermint teabags, dropping them into a teapot. I decided to make more than just one cup of tea because my own stomach was still doing flips too. I was still waiting, when my stomach tightened, forcing me to quickly lean over the sink. Luckily the weak gag brought nothing up but that was a close-call. I rested my forehead against the counter, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. I was able to get my bearings and straightened back up to pour the water over the teabags, taking the teapot along with three cups to the coffee table.

Soon, the pair emerged from the bathroom, Changbin supporting a sweaty Chan to the couch, before taking off to fetch a bucket, just in case. “Feeling better?”, I asked, anxiously playing with my fingers. “Yeah, thanks mate”, the oldest replied, voice hoarse from getting sick. He curled up on the couch, drawing his legs up a bit as he shivered. He must be pretty cold in his sweat-through shirt, so I pulled the woolen blanket we always keep in the living room from the back of the couch, covering his trembling form completely. Only barely catching the quiet “Thanks”, a small smile spread on my lips as Changbin returned, placing a bucket next to the couch. He guided me to the other couch where we could cuddle while keeping a close eye on our leader. Seems like we’re in for another 3racha all-nighter….

#sick #sickfic #fanfic #whump #christmas #emeto #fluff #comfort #3racha #skz #stray kids #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung

[beerecordings]

hey!!! i'd love to see more with the favored puppet au, that's always been one of my favorite concepts. maybe at a point where chase feels apathy in the face of anti, his caretaker, being a bad person? or something from before, when anti decided chase was worrying him and he didn't want to play the games anymore? :'D ty ty

Favored Puppet AU (Chase): After stalking, haunting, and toying with Chase for years, Anti eventually realized it was no longer fun to play with him while his suffering was so high. Instead, Anti kidnapped Chase and keeps him away from the world as its companion. Chase has learned to be alright with that. The human world, after all, was never very kind to him.

Triggers for heavy discussions of Chase’s past suicide attempts and depression and Chase trying to cut himself again, though he doesn’t succeed. Also might be considered soft!Anti, though Chase is the only one it’s soft for.

Florence I decided to combine that first prompt (Chase feeling apathy when Anti’s being awful) with another prompt so you will see that later! for this one I decided to do that moment where Anti decided he didn’t want to play games anymore. thank you for sending them my dude!! also this is my first time writing for this au so the mythology is really experimental but I just tried to do something new with Anti :) it’s very inhuman and doesn’t really understand Chase, but it decides it wants him, so...

.

It sits on top of his refrigerator and watches him have his first meal of the day, a depression snack at nine at night compromised almost entirely of the last crumbs in an old bag of Cheetos. The skinny little human creature – though Anti’s seen him staring at his shirtless torso in the mirror enough times to know he’s only growing more dissatisfied with his softening stomach and arms – throws his head back and dumps the rest of the crisps into his mouth, getting orange dust all over his unkempt beard. Anti giggles at the sight of him. Clown boy with his Cheeto dust and the bags under his eyes. Little human thing. Too small and silly even to be able to die. Goofy, stupid human. Slouching, miserable child.

But if there is one thing Anti enjoys about the human, it is his fierce, hateful courage. At first, the laughter in the edges of his hearing sent chills up the boy’s spine and made him turn around with wild eyes, spitting and gnashing his blunt mortal teeth, but now, after months of being haunted, he does nothing except turn around and glare.

Anti is invisible on his refrigerator, but the human – what is his name? Charles, Casey, something – he still tries to find it. He has eyes made to burn, blue as flame, though, to be perfectly fair, fire can be as much a source of life as the bitter weapon Casey makes with his gaze now.

He used to be warm. Anti remembers. He would stutter when the girl came to see him and he carried those little chips with him, rubbing them in his pocket when he passed the liquor store, and his children were all he thought about. But he’s changed. Anti watched it happen. For whatever reason, the girl stopped bringing the children by at all, and at some point the pain of it must have overwhelmed the man, and Anti watched him embrace old habits with a ferocity only describable as self-harm. After his second suicide attempt – that was the only time Anti let Casey see it, standing over him and staring at the crimson of his blood in the bathtub while the man screamed for it to kill him already, shrieking in despair as Anti picked up his phone from the bathroom counter and dialed 911, giggling at the thought of just how powerful his despair would be when he woke up in the hospital – he removed his children from the background of that phone and replaced it with a stock image of the ocean provided to him by Apple’s recommendation.

The light slid out of his eyes at some point. Anti was there. It watched the whole thing.

It enjoyed the whole thing. Mostly.

“Fucking kill me, then, bitch,” hisses Casey, slinking through his own kitchen like he’s being hunted. He is. “Playing games with me, always, well, I’m tired of playing, you know that, I’m tired… fucking kill me then, not afraid of you, not afraid…”

This is also true. Anti’s pretty sure the only reason he moved back to America was to make sure none of his friends would be in the way of the creature who haunts him finally finishing the job. And to stop them from telling him “you need to get help, you’re talking to the voices in your head and seeing things, it’s not real, you need to see a specialist” in an endless carousel of concern and – as Casey always perceived it – condescension.

“Fucking kill me!” he screams, slamming his hand down on his counter. He shatters a pile of unwashed dishes on accident and blood comes pooling up hot and coppery in the lines of his palm, but Casey doesn’t even look down, doesn’t even flinch, just keeps staring straight forward with fire eyes as wild as a horse’s.

But Anti’s bored with him. It hops down from the fridge and wanders through the apartment, whistling. In the kitchen, it hears the man howling as the whistling returns to torment him, the monster’s singing following him for hours and hours every day, never letting him sleep.

Anti used to think it was really funny, that something as simple as a whistled lullaby could make the man shatter in half and sob like his heart was broken open in his hands.

But honestly?

It’s less fun these days.

“Music, music, music,” rants the human in the kitchen, slamming his palm down again and again, cutting open his palm again, again. There’s banging on the walls and muffled yelling. The neighbors are sick of his screaming. He’ll be evicted soon, Anti reckons. Humans used to travel in packs, making it harder to pick them off, but these days ones like Casey often find themselves alone, and no one is around to stand up for him. “I’ll make you stop, I’ll make you shut up, shut up, shut up….”

Anti lets the human sprint past it and retreat to his bedroom, crawling under the bed and taking his laptop with him. He puts on big earphones and presses them hard against his ears, and he rocks himself as his music plays, turned up to one hundred on his computer, mumbling to himself, laughing sometimes, if Anti listens closely enough.

Anti crouches down to look at him. It hums to itself and touches Casey’s face, and he shrivels in on himself and whimpers, but he does not fight or push it away. Not anymore.

He used to be so much more fun before he started to crumble instead of break.

And yet, Anti has not killed him.

It does not know why.

---------------------

When bored – these days, it often is – Anti likes to wander through the other apartments that surround its own. Watching the human sleep can only be entertaining for so long, even if it does like to hear his sleepy, thick breathing and see his peaceful, dopey face, and it’s nice to just roam sometimes. Anyway, the people nearby can be interesting, though Anti doesn’t mess with them the way it does Casey. No one else has ever been that entertaining.

A young couple lives to their right, newly-married with a little rat of a dog they call Barkley. Anti’s human likes most dogs, but he grew tired a long time ago of the shrieking yips through the walls. Anti itself doesn’t mind it so much. One more thing to annoy the human on his slow road to madness.

“Who’s the best boy in the world?”

It passes by their door and hears them cooing and praising the yelping thing. “Are you a good boy, Barkley? Who’s my good little boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

Barkley has been sick for a few days and their fussing over him has been endless as they clean the nasty little animal up after every time it vomits, carefully feeding it vet-recommended dog food and plenty of healthy human snacks whenever Barkley shows an interest. How anyone could care to look after a creature so pathetic and useless is well beyond Anti, but it thinks it’s funny, really. Humans will bow down to pet the lowest of creatures.

I am not like that, it thinks to itself, drifting through the door, invisible. It is important for me to not be like that.

Anti had never had an interest in pets before this year, but, increasingly, it likes to come over and watch them look after Barkley. Constantly it reminds itself – I am not like that. It is important for me to not be like that.

But it doesn’t understand why this is important or why it should not be like that. Truthfully, it has never been skilled with its own emotions. It does as it pleases and what makes it happy makes it happy. If there is depth to that, it isn’t interested.

“Okay, Barkley baby, mommy and daddy are going to go for a walk and be right back in a few.”

“Aww, poor baby, we know. You wanna come on our walk and see all the other puppies along the way, but you can’t go while your belly’s all grumpy!”

“Yeah, little Barkley can’t come today, but mommy and daddy will be right back.”

“Mommy and daddy will be right back, we promise.”

They shower the dog in pets and belly rubs as they baby-talk their way towards the door, blowing it kisses as they head out and lock the door behind them.

“Do you think we should check on this guy here who’s so loud sometime?”

“What, that Chase guy? Are you kidding me? What a creep. He’s so fucking loud. We’re going to have to complain to the landlord again. Guy’s out of his mind.”

Ah, yes, Chase, that’s his name. Slipping into their apartment like a ghost, Anti laughs at the human fickleness and leans down to tweak the little dog’s tail, making it yelp in alarm and start running in circles around the apartment. It giggles and spends some time chasing it and leading it around with its chew toys and such. It likes the way it can make the dog do anything. It likes the cute little dog even if it is such a disgusting, purposeless, stupid little animal. It coos and picks the puppy up, tickling its skinny little ribs and rubbing between its ears.

“Stupid puppy,” it manages to say, in its painful, broken voice. Human language has always been difficult for it, but it prides itself on understanding it well. One day maybe it will speak it clearly too, though for now it knows it would sound like a struggling, glitching machine to a real human. “Stupid baby doggy.”

Faint laughter reaches its sharp ears and it quiets, setting the dog back down. For a moment, only silence, and it crouches in the living room with its black eyes boring into the universe, motionless.

Then it hears raucous laughter as the window in the back of the apartment is pried open and a pair of much, much more pathetic creatures than itself or even this little dog crash their way into the couple’s home. It straightens up, shaking its head, and heads back towards the back room, where a baby’s nursery is beginning to develop. Above the cradle, a pair of imps stop short, staring at Anti as they hover, startled, in mid-air.

Wearing its human’s form, it puts its hands on its hips and waits for them to speak.

They begin to laugh again, loud and boisterous, spit flying out of the one’s mouth while the second’s eyes bulge with hilarity.

“A fairy in California?” The imp rolls in circles in the air, shrieking with laughter. “Who would have thought?”

“Little far from home, Mr. Potatohead,” quips the second, floating up to the ceiling, sneering and sticking out its little purple tongue. Anti’s mouth curls distastefully. “Why don’t you go back to your hunts and your parades, your highness?”

“How’d it get here without getting stuck behind all that running water?”

“Careful, pure-blood, this spoon looks like it might be made out of iron!”

They dissolve into maniacal impling laughter, rocking through the air, shape-shifting in the limited ways they can to make themselves look uglier. If it were the sort of fairy who gave a fuck, Anti supposes it would feel disrespected, but it doesn’t much care. They’re little annoyances who have clearly mistaken it for a much less powerful creature than it really is. They break the monotony for a moment. It’ll kill them in a second. Anti supposes they just came here to make trouble. Imps love break into human homes and stealing their food or making their milk go rotten. They may well have been the ones who made Barkley sick, just to watch the humans take care of the dumb little thing for their entertainment. They’re common in this part of the city because the mountains are close, and imps are snuffling, stupid little creatures of the earth.

“Ew, what’s that?” squawks the first imp, floating closer to it. “Do you smell it?”

“Yuck. His majesty stinks like a human.”

“Just like a fairy to keep a pet.”

“Aw, do you have a widdle human to look after?”

“Maybe we should pay a visit to your stinky little human.”

“Yeah, maybe it needs some company.”

“Some friends.”

“Someone to play a couple fun games with.”

“And then we can find out what it is that made Tinkerbell here go all soft in the middle, like a rotten – ”

But they never get to find out exactly what rotted thing Anti resembles. It snatches the imp out of the air in one snapping motion like the bite of a snake and crushes its body between its fingers, its eyes turning black as the juices run down its wrist.

In its fear, the other imp does not even scream. Its eyes bulge in alarm and it scrambles for the window, but it never makes it. Barkley yelps in victory, chasing his own tail around as Anti’s teeth come down around the meaty little imp and tear it to pieces, silencing the both of the little monsters, leaving nothing behind.

It’ll be picking that out of its teeth for a week, it muses, wandering back out of the apartment and towards its own. But that’s what they get for talking about Chase like that.

It’s odd, though, how it makes it pause and think. That is something other spirits do sometimes, isn’t it? Take a human and keep it as a pet.

The couple with the dog are returning from their walk, holding slushies and each other’s hands.

“Barkley!” they coo, greeting their excited dog at the door. “Are you a good boy? Oh, why are you shaking, baby boy? What a silly little puppy you are. Who’s a cutie? Are you a good boy? You just want a big hug, huh, you just want to be looked after. Mwah, mwah.”

It’s kind of a cute dog, in the end.

--------------------

It liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it.

It liked the way his eyes changed. He was not afraid – Chase is a creature of courage and despair, and these, in Anti’s experience, are both flowers from the same root – but he was distressed. Anti would say that this was because the form he takes is such a disturbingly odd impression of a human that it scared the human, but, truthfully, he thinks he saw a sort of awe in Chase’s eyes that day as well.

He loves fiction. This is one thing it learned about Chase early on. He does not have a reputation for intelligence but he does love his fantasy escapism, or he did back when he still had the energy for things like interests and hobbies. He liked Gravity Falls and Doctor Who and anything with sci-fi or dragons and he would get stuck at bookstores every now and then just walking through the YA section and wishing he was still young enough to enjoy them as much as he used to. In the old days, human storytellers were vital parts of their social structure. Anti thinks Chase would have been a storyteller, in his own way, if this were a few hundred years ago. Maybe he would be happier then.

It does not know when it began wondering about Chase’s happiness. Do not ask it.

The point is that Anti liked the way Chase looked up at it, that one day it allowed him to see it, that day he tried to kill himself.

“No,”  he shook his head as Anti took his phone and called for an ambulance. “No.”

But his eyes were looking at something beyond life and death, something he had only read about in books, and Anti did not understand it.

It thinks, now, that Chase was looking at something he had longed for when he was younger. But Anti does not know what. There are fairytales about prophetic heroes and novels about chosen ones and tv shows where fantastical creatures whisk people away on great adventures, but Anti is not a fantasy. Anti is a nightmare. This is something Chase has always known, and Anti has always known, and there should be no misunderstanding between them.

But it liked the way Chase looked at him, that one time it allowed him to see it. That’s all. That’s all it’s saying. It doesn’t mean anything. It is not like that. It’s important that it’s not like that.

Anti touches the human’s face. He has fallen asleep beneath his bed, and his breathing is clear and deep, rhythmic as the song of a bird.

----------------------

Chase sleeps for fourteen hours and then gets up to make a Cup-o’-Noodles. Beef flavored. It’s the only thing left in the pantry except half a jar of strawberry jam and some milk he was too drunk to put in the fridge a couple days ago, spoiled completely by now. Even the cheap rum he’s been buying is out on the table beside the stove. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed and he cuts a pathetically small figure standing over the stove in nothing but some gym shorts and rolled-up Christmas socks because everything else needs to be washed.

Anti roams the apartment, humming distantly and checking up on things. It deletes an unread message on Chase’s phone from contact name “Marv” and waters the succulent Chase picked up on an impulse last week. It’s so funny to it how attached the human can get to things, and so quick too. He once found a bee on the windowsill, brought it sugar water, and looked after it for several hours before letting it outside. The human put on his loudest comedy show afterwards to try and keep himself cheerful, but he’d ended up crying about halfway through, and Anti couldn’t tell if it was related to the bee or not. He’s always crying. He didn’t always used to be crying. He used to be less deep in his despair and much more fun to play with.

Anti shakes the thoughts off and decides to prove that Chase is still fun to play games with. There’s nothing deep about their relationship, Chase just happens to be entertaining. That’s the only reason it followed him all the way from Ireland. It floats towards the kitchen, silent and invisible. It’ll give him a quick scare, not enough to put him off his dinner, just enough to remind him he should still be fighting. Anti shape-shifts cleanly into a small boy with black hair and deep onyx eyes and goes to stand behind Chase, silent and still, staring up at the child’s father as he stirs the noodles in silence.

“I know you’re behind me,” he says after a moment. “Looking like Hunter.”

Anti startles and shivers back into invisibility, drawing away. Chase turns blearily to see that it’s gone and he laughs, deep and hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, stumbling a little as he tilts back his rum. Anti knows he’s already drunk from the calmness in his tired voice. “Used to your tricks by now. You been getting to know me, I know. I been getting to know you too.”

He snorts to himself and leans back against the stove, seeming to forget his noodles. He squints blearily around the room, rubbing at his eyes. He hasn’t put his contacts in since the last time he tried to kill himself. Wanted to make sure he cut the veins, but after he survived that night, it didn’t much matter if he could see or not.

“I think I can sort of tell when you’re close, most of the time,” he adds. Anti sits at the dining table across the room, frowning. “Like… I can feel you. Or something. See you, maybe. I think you make things… a different color. Does that make sense?”

He points sluggishly towards the dining table and then shrugs, letting his hand drop again.

“Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

His pot is boiling over. The water will burn his hands in a moment, resting as they are against the edge of the stove. Chase laughs to himself again, shaking his head, and throws back the rum for so long that he’s panting when he’s done with the drink.

“Funny,” he says. “Would have almost liked for you to be there. As Hunter, I mean. See my baby one more time. My baby. Hunter, my son…”

His eyes trail far away. Anti doesn’t think he’s looking at anything at all. There’s nothing left for him to look at.

Water cascades across the stove, boiling. Chase whimpers as it hits his hands, but he doesn’t pull away.

Something yanks him back.

He stumbles away from the stovetop. Drunk, he can’t keep his balance, and he goes crashing to the ground, falling on his back and dropping his bottle, which shatters into pieces of glass and a small flood of rum across the kitchen floor. Chase gasps, grabbing at his bruised elbow, staring around for a sight of the monster that has haunted him for so long.

The pot of noodles goes spinning off its stovetop onto the other side of the stove and stops boiling after a moment, quieting the kitchen. The knob on the oven flicks to ‘off’ and the red light disappears from the stovetop, leaving it dark and silent.

Chase closes his eyes.

Anti stares at him and it knows, in the moment, that the human was not lying.

He can sense it.

He can tell it’s there.

“Why,” croaks Chase. “Did you call 911 that night?”

Anti steps back from him. His movement shifts glass on the floor with a faint clinking noise.

“Was this what you wanted?” Chase whispers. “Just to see me live like this a little while longer? Just to make sure I couldn’t get away that easy? Was killing myself too good for you? Are you ever going to actually finish me off?”

He is crying. He is always crying.

This isn’t fun anymore, Anti realizes. It isn’t funny.

And honestly –

Honestly…

Honestly, it doesn’t know why it called 911.

“I think that’s what I’ve actually been waiting for,” laughs Chase, sobbing as tears run down his reddened cheeks. “Fuck. Not even staying alive waiting for it, that’s not what I mean, I mean… like I haven’t killed myself because I’ve been waiting for you to do it.”

He throws his head back and cries and laughs and hugs himself with his burned hands and scarred wrists, his whole body shuddering with the tears.

“But you won’t,” he sobs into the darkness, as Anti’s presence draws away from him and the sun fades. “You won’t. Will you? No one will give me any mercy. No one wants me to have any fucking peace. So tired… You won’t…”

Anti retreats to his room.

It doesn’t want to face him right now.

He doesn’t want to face him right now.

Chase cries in the kitchen for a long time, until his whole body feels tired and numb and drained. He doesn’t clean up the glass. He doesn’t clean up the rum. He doesn’t clean up the water. He would probably have slept right there on the wooden floor of his kitchen, but the doorbell rings.

Too drunk to put himself together, he staggers to the door and throws it open to the cold, red-eyed and stumbling like a zombie.

“Uh,” says the delivery kid, fixing her alarmed expression after a moment. “Here’s your food, sir.”

Chase is too confused even to question. Almost dazed by it, he takes the bag of take-out carefully from her hands, thanks her in a mumble, and shuts the door behind him.

KFC.

Did he order this?

No, he was making ramen before he made a mess of it. But it’s what he always gets. Chicken tenders and mashed potatoes and a couple extra biscuits for the next morning.

In his bedroom, Anti closes out of the delivery app and drops his phone onto the bed, deleting one more message from Marv before it drifts past Chase and goes wandering, thinking, roaming, lost.

It’s not like that… it’s important that it’s not. It’s not like that.

Zayn and Mary are walking Barkley. Anti watches the happy little dog go yipping and dancing in the space between them, happy and safe and recovering, cared for by his masters.

-------------------

The apartment fills with soft light in the evenings. White and gold from the weary sun. When it hits the horizon, the gold pirouettes and falls apart into a dozen different watercolors across the long shoulders of the sky. Pouring patiently through the windows, like syrup from the bark of a great dark tree.

Anti sits beside Chase’s bed and watches him sleep, playing slowly with his hair.

It likes Chase’s hair. It always has. Soft and dark but sometimes golden in the sunlight, and ever-so-slightly curly, so you can wrap it around your finger if you’re gentle, and make it spring back again afterwards.

Anti wants to kill something. It doesn’t know what. A human, probably, but not Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase. It had forgotten how much it likes that name.

You like a lot of things about him, it lets itself realize. When did that happen? When the fuck did that happen? One day you’re making him having a repeated dream where he’s carefully cut into pieces and eaten alive by a sentient crocodile because he always got scared of the one in Peter Pan when he was a child and the next you’re thinking about how soft his hair is. It makes Anti laugh, for a moment, but it thinks it feels… sad. It doesn’t know why.

Chase wakes up and it drifts back into invisibility, leaving him to sit up and look around. Check his phone for the time and stare at the floor for a while. Today he is groggy, but not sad, which strikes Anti as odd. Most days he is groggy and sad. Sad groggy stupid human. Anti’s sad groggy stupid hurting human. It sighs and spins lazily in the air, watching Chase push himself up on his feet, his eyes dead and weary.

Someone slams on their door and Chase groans, rubbing at his forehead. He’s hungover again.

“Brody!” The slamming insists. Chase stutters out a breath, slightly frightened, and totters to the door, pulling it open.

It’s his landlord. Anti’s lips curl up in a snarl. A mean, stupid man, stupider than Chase, even, and he looks angry.

And he starts to shout at Chase, and Anti does not like it. It doesn’t interfere, but it doesn’t like it either, and it knows Chase will do nothing. He stands there shirtless in his Christmas socks and stares at his landlord like he can’t believe any of this is real – not because it’s rare for him to be in trouble, just because his life is an alley puddle full of cigarettes and bathing rats and he’s most likely dissociating – and just nods when he’s told to get his act together and pipe the fuck down before he gets kicked out.

“Yes,” says Chase. “Okay.”

The landlord leaves.

Chase shuts the door behind him and looks directly at Anti, invisible on the ceiling above him.

“Jokes on him,” he says dully. “He’ll have to be the one to clean my blood out of the bathtub.”

Anti blinks. Chase pauses, letting his head rest against the cool wall for a moment before he pushes himself back up and wanders back towards his bedroom.

“What you will do?” asks Anti.

Chase startles so hard he slams into the wall of the hallway, whirling around to look at him. Unnerved by his response, Anti scowls and backs away again.

“Sorry, did you just talk to me?” asks Chase. “It’s a dream, then? Or did you talk to me in real life? Or am I really losing it finally? I mean, worse than I have already.”

Anti grumbles to itself and gets up in the fan, making the blades spin slowly, sulking. Can’t even talk to the human without him freaking out.

“Must still be drunk,” mumbles Chase, retreating back to his room.

Anti gets up and follows him.

“What, are you worried?” snaps Chase, digging under the bed, and Anti grins at the heat he’s showing again. That’s more like it. “Haunt me for, what, eight months and now you’re worried? I know you’re there, asshole.”

Anti lets him hear it giggling. Chase rolls his eyes and then he gives a short laugh, shaking his head.

Anti feels pleased, it thinks. Chase turns to look at him. He can’t see him, but he knows it’s there. Anti likes that.

“You really are a monster,” says Chase softly, smiling at it.

And then Anti sees, in his hand, the little tin where he keeps his razor blades.

Anti’s mouth falls in a frown.

Chase looks up into the sunset. Orange and gold, tonight. Flowing over his hair and into his eyes, making them alight. Fire eyes. Fire Chase.

“I hated you for a long time,” says Chase. “But you’re either a monster or the part of my brain that really wants to hurt me, so I guess either way I shouldn’t blame you for being what you are.”

He stands up, straighter than he has in a long time, still fixated on that sunset.

“I… I’ll miss…”

Anti stares at him, waiting, but Chase never finishes his sentence. After a long moment, he turns and takes his phone off of his bed. A slow, shaky breath escapes him.

He always takes his calls between the hallway and the living room so he can pace. Anti knows. Anti knows everything about him. Anti knows things about him he doesn’t know about himself. Anti likes things about him he doesn’t like about himself.

The human steps into the hallway and opens his contacts, carefully picking a name he hasn’t picked in long months, and he closes his eyes, and he waits.

But no one answers. Chase lets out a soft, miserable laugh, gripping the phone in both hands.

“Ah, damn… ha. Sorry, Schneep, I was really hoping you’d pick up.”

He circles quietly in the hallway, running his hands through his hair, his eyes closed and that phone held up to his ear, trying to breathe even instead of weeping.

“Look, man, um. I know we fell apart. Honestly, I really needed you, and you were just too busy for me, and that stung, it did. Maybe it was selfish, but I just… I needed you, Schneep. And I felt like all you cared about was the research, and…”

He rubs his face, brushing away tears. Anti stands at the end of the hall, staring.

“Well, I didn’t call you to accuse you of anything. I just wanted you to know that, um, even though we both hurt each other… I always loved you, man. And I don’t got the courage to call Jacks or Marv, okay, but I love them too. I love them too. And I’m sorry. Cause I was a coward for running away from them, and… maybe you needed me even more than I needed you, and I couldn’t even see it. So I just want you to know: you were my best friend. And I’m really sorry I couldn’t pull you out of your head and that I couldn’t help, or didn’t try hard enough, or just that I wasn’t what you needed. And I…”

Anti sees Chase close his eyes and breathe.

“And I hope I’m not one more person you spend the rest of your life wishing you could have saved,” he whispers. “It’s not your fault, Henrik. I love you. Good night, buddy. Maybe someday – ”

The voicemail beeps. End of recording.

Chase lets out a hurting breath and sets his phone down. His eyes are fixed on the rising sunlit moon, past his window.

“Maybe someday I’ll see you again,” he says.

He goes into the bathroom and crawls into the tub.

And Anti – Anti is paralyzed in the hallway, staring at him, invisible.

But Chase can sense it. Chase can sense him. He looks back at him, his face – fuck, so familiar now, like Anti knows every line of it, every shadow – and says nothing.

Something in Anti cries out against it.

Don’t let him do this. Don’t let him do this.

But another part – oh, another part recognizes what has happened. It has grown attached to this human despite all odds, despite everything. And attachments are dangerous and stupid and useless, just like this little mortal curled up in his white bathtub, holding a razor, staring at it. This is Anti’s chance to let Chase break the attachment. This is its chance to stop this before it goes too far. Before it actually does decide that it likes Chase, that it wants him, that it should keep him, that he loves him in his own fucked-up way.

So it steps back.

It won’t stop Chase.

Let him go. Let him go. It’s better this way. He was just supposed to be entertainment. There was never supposed to be an attachment. So now Chase can die and Anti can leave and they can go their separate ways, and everything in Anti’s life will return to normal. It will go back to Ireland and find something new to do, someone new to torment. And everything will be okay.

It doesn’t stop Chase.

But Chase –

Chase –

“No,” he whispers to himself, gripping the blade. “Please.”

Chase can’t bring himself to do it.

“No!” he screams, lashing himself once, but it hurts and he hates it and he wants it to stop and it’s not like the other times he’s tried to kill himself, not at all. There’s no numbness. There’s no comfort.

He doesn’t want to die.

“Please!” he howls, gripping his own wrists. “Please!”

He’s begging himself. End it. Finish it. Stop it, let me go.

He’s begging the universe. No more. No more, please.

He’s begging Anti.

He’s begging Anti with everything he has.

He turns his eyes to it and he’s screaming, and there’s blood on his wrists, and the glowing moon is like the eye of a god staring down at them, and Anti is illuminated in its light, visible in the shape of a man, visible in a shape like Chase’s, and Chase is begging him –

“Don’t make me live like this any longer!”

Anti turns and flees.

Chase is howling like a shot dog, holding his own shoulders, unable to kill himself, because he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want Henrik to get that voicemail, he doesn’t want to never see the sun again, he doesn’t want to go, he isn’t ready, but he can’t live like this any longer, and he’s never felt more hopeless in his life, and he still doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to die.

Don’t make me live like this any longer.

Why can’t he end it?

He’s so drunk and so tired and he thought he wanted to die, he really thought he did. No, no, not… oh, he needs somebody, he needs something, he needs something to change. Henrik. He wants Henrik, wants Jackie, wants Marv. He’s staggering to his feet, trying to get up, trying to get back to his phone –

He slips in his Christmas socks and in his own blood, and he crashes down hard in his bathtub, and lies still.

------------------

“Oh, no, oh, fuck,” Anti hears him whimpering as he comes awake. “How much did I fucking have? Stupid, stupid…”

It stands in the hallway, pacing, its eyes set on the ground. It is determined now. It has decided.

“Oh, shit! Oh.” There’s a nervous laugh from Chase as he notices the shallow cut on his arm. “Oh, wow, I… I must have tried to… but I didn’t! I didn’t, wow…”

There’s an awe in his voice that hasn’t been there for a long time.

Is it… pride?

“I didn’t kill myself,” Anti hears him whispering. “I didn’t… didn’t kill myself. Or I just passed out before I could, but either way, pretty impressive for a fucking idiot like me.”

Anti retreats back to his room and begins to pack the human’s things up, taking only what’s immediately necessary. It doesn’t care about the personal effects, but there are some things they will need – some clothes, his hygiene products, shoes, medicine. He places the succulent gently on top and zips it into place as an added present.

It can hear Chase wandering around the house, apparently dazed by his own survival, or maybe just still drunk from the night before. Anti shuts his phone down remotely and doesn’t let it turn back on when Chase scrabbles at the power button, mumbling about his friends back in England. Anti doesn’t know where the sudden interest in them after months of deleting pictures and ignoring calls has come from, but it doesn’t care.

Here are the facts, in its mind:

Chase survived last night.

It has grown attached to him.

Because he did not kill himself, it can’t escape the fact that it’s grown… fond of the human.

The human survived one night, but Anti has watched him through a great deal of ups and downs, and it knows that Chase will be suicidal again soon enough, and then he might not survive.

Anti does not want to watch him die.

And so the conclusion it came to last night, watching over the boy as he lay in that tub, gently curling his hair between its fingers, was this –

Chase will be its, and Chase will not die.

It has a great satisfaction with this plan now, more than it thought possible. After months of boredom, finally, finally! Something that makes it excited again, something that makes it feel – well – happy!

Chase is still playing with his phone. Anti steps back into the hallway and sees him frowning down at it, pressing on the power button a few times in a row, looking unhappy.

“Did I call him, or…? Need to tell him I’m okay or he’ll – ahh!”

Chase screams aloud at the sight of Anti standing in the hallway with his backpack on. Anti frowns as he goes tumbling to the floor in his alarm, groaning from the whiplash in an already concussed head.

“You’re – you’re showing yourself to me?” gasps Chase, scrambling away. “What’s – are you going to kill me? What’s going on? Hey, stay away!”

But Anti is moving forward, a smile already on its face. This is perfect! This is perfect! It could howl! It could shout! The man is looking at it again, just like he did that night he tried to kill himself, the night that Anti saved his life, and there is the change in his eyes, the recognition, and Anti feels seen and known and in control all over again, and everything is good, everything is perfect.

“What are you doing?” demands Chase, his hands reaching out to protect himself. A fighter, yes, just like Anti always saw. Small and weak and mortal and foolish, yes, but also courageous, courageous, always something special about him. Anti always knew. It grabs Chase’s wrist and pulls him to his feet, humming to itself, singing the old lullaby it always used to haunt him with.

“No, stop, I hate that!” screams Chase, trying to cover his ears, trying to yank away from him. “Stop it, let me go!”

He’s such a pretty little human, even if he is built so scrawny. Anti likes his dark hair and his fire eyes and his soft stomach and even his stupid tattoos, just because they’re his and he’s so goofy, silly human creature. It’s all familiar to him now. The boredom that it thought it was feeling all this time it now sees was a secret fear of the truth that it was becoming attached to him. But last night woke it up to the realization that it did not want to see the boy die and it’s so pleased that he decided to live. In a way, the human was deciding to stay with it! Everything is good. It wrangles Chase’s other wrist and begins to drag him towards the door, unbothered by the sound of his shouting, which is little more than white noise to Anti after so long spent following Chase.

“No, no! Help me, someone help!” he cries.

Someone pounds on the walls of the apartment. A muffled “can you shut the fuck up for once in your life?” makes its way through the plaster. Chase sobs, tearing at Anti’s hands, his eyes wild and desperate. Anti keeps humming.

It will set him up somewhere just as good as this stupid little apartment. Better even. Bigger and less worn. And it will teach Chase to take better care of it too, so he doesn’t make such a mess like he always does. It will give him things he hasn’t even realized he wants yet. It will give him his little succulent back and he will take care of it. Humans need things to take care of or they get very sad and they die sometimes – that’s the thing about humans, they can get so sad they can die, and it’s no longer fun for Anti to watch, so it will get Chase things to take care of instead. What do humans like to take care of? Cows? Hamsters? Potatoes? Whatever he wants.

It takes Chase’s keys and drags him out to his car, opening the door and letting all of Chase’s trash litter onto the street. Its foot crunches on garbage as it pushes its human inside, chirping politely at him when he struggles and gently blocking him from escaping, keeping him pressed inside the car. When Chase tries to lunge forward past it, Anti shoves him against the glass and makes him yelp, clutching at its aching head. Whoops! It pulls back quickly and pats his cheek, checking the bruise and patting Chase’s head. It will take some time to learn the boundaries for touching the human, but it will learn. It keeps him carefully inside until the human has gone breathless and shaky and realizes he can’t get out right now. Satisfied, Anti gets into the car beside him and starts the engine.

Oh, no, wait. One more thing it wants to do.

Anti sets Chase’s apartment on fire, whistling its song to itself as it disables the alarms and leaves a few rags beginning to spread the fire from the oven to the counters. Fuck that landlord who yelled at him. Now the other humans will probably think he died in the fire or something and not come looking for him. Not that they could find him if they tried. Anti leaves the apartment smoking and gets back into the car, chirping and purring to itself, too excited to care that it’s acting like a youngling on its first Samhain.

The human stares at the road as they begin to move, shell-shocked and trembling. Eventually his eyes flicker over to Anti, and it can see that he isn’t sure if he should be angry or terrified or just numb to all of this, numb to everything.

Numb is what he settles on. Numb and a little weepy, anyway. Anti coos and reaches out to touch the human’s neck, rubbing warmly at his soft skin.

Chase curls in on himself, shirtless and shivering in the seat of his own car, kidnapped and alone, and he begins to cry very softly.

There’s blood on his arm. He’s tired. He’s hungover. He’s still struggling with the desire to die despite surviving the night before. He thinks he left Henrik a weird voicemail. The monster that’s been haunting him for years has just appeared in the flesh and thrown him out of his apartment. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He just wants everything to stop.

He just wants this to stop.

The monster repeats its cooing noise at his side, still petting at his neck and throat. Chase shudders and cries, rocking himself gently in the seat, wishing for his headphones. Anti turns on both the heat and the radio. A top-twenties station comes on and plays music familiar to Chase’s ears, and they drive, and they drive, and he begins to go quiet and still, sniffling to himself, hugging his shoulders. Feeling the monster petting him like an animal.

“Okay,” whispers a warbled voice when Chase has finally begun to calm down, and he looks up in shock to see the monster speaking, or trying to. He’d never known it to speak at all – only to watch him, and laugh, and whistle or hum, playing tricks on him or mimicking him in the corner of his vision. They’d never spoken.

“Okay,” it repeats, touching his hair. “Okay.”

Chase swallows and says nothing.

Anti pulls over after a couple hours of driving and hands Chase the backpack, helping him pull out the clothes and put shoes and a shirt on. It leads him inside a gas station and lets him use his bathroom and wash his face, staying beside him the whole time. Chase doesn’t try to protest or call for help. He does not know why.

Anti leads him carefully through the aisles of the gas station, a big truck stop station with rows and rows of snacks and toys and clothes and knick-knacks like phone charges for cars and California-themed snow-globes. It seems interested in everything, but in an amused way, like it’s laughing at everything, and Chase is supposed to be laughing with it.

He doesn’t know what to do. Anti’s arm is around his shoulder.

The monster buys something with Chase’s credit card while Chase shakes beneath his arm and tries to figure out what’s happening, though his brain seems to be shutting down from being so overwhelmed and he really just wants a drink. Anti pulls him back towards the car and this time, he clambers in without protest, sitting down in the passenger seat and buckling in.

Anti sits down beside him and offers him the bag from the gas station. Chase blinks and looks over, taking the bag numbly from its hands.

There are nuts for protein and three bottles of water. Chips and a breakfast sandwich and jerky and chocolate and a small, stuffed lion with the name “Lionel” in its ear.

Anti starts the car again. They drive.

“What are you?” asks Chase in a whisper.

The monster glances over at him and touches his face, stroking a finger down his cheek, down his beard, and, in that struggling, glitching, inhuman voice, it tells him:

“Anti. And you are mine. No more scares. No more slow dying. I look after you. Human. Chase. Mine.”

The monster who’s been haunting him for months wants to keep him as a pet.

The desert is rolling past Chase’s window. Lionel sits patiently on his lap. The radio plays something inane and catchy. Anti is touching his hand.

“Mine,” it says again. “Okay, Chase. It’s okay.”

Chase closes his eyes, and, leaning back against the headrest of the car, he lets himself drift into sleep.

#chase brody #antisepticeye #cutting tw #suicide tw #extreme distress tw #bee writes #2020 prompts #favored puppet #florenceisfalling

[britishboystm]

For Sure- Matt Edition

Warnings: End of smut, swearing, angst, bad parents, pregnancy, labor, fluff

A/N: Okay this is cute. Based on the song ‘For Sure’

•••

August 3rd, 1987

“Yes, yes, yes, right there! FUUUCK!” You cry out before your legs clench on top of Matt and you collapse down beside him onto your bed.

“Holy shit.” You breath out as the two of you lay sprawled out naked, breathing heavily and staring up at your white ceiling. Did it seem a little cliche that the two little best friends that lived in the same neighbourhood all their lives started dating when college began? Maybe, but you guys loved each other so it didn’t matter

“Holy shit indeed.” He chuckles trying to catch his breath. The back of his hand swipes across his forehead to get rid of any sweat.

You see, Matt had come knocking on your door earlier in the evening. He had just gotten off of work and was looking for some comfort from his loving girlfriend after a fight he had with his dad.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask as you open the door to see your boyfriend standing there, shoulders slumped forward and on the brink of tears.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

“Of course.” You say concerned, pulling him into the small home. Your parents were sitting in front of the tv watching some program you’ve never seen before.

“Matt’s here.” You call out. Your dad responds with a grunt of recognition and your mom turns her head.

“Hi Matt. How are you, love?”

“Fine thanks.” He wasn’t fine. You sigh and grab his hand to bring him up to your bedroom.

“So is everything okay?” You say while closing the door. He was already on your bed crying into your pillow.

“Matt baby what happened?” You coo, climbing on top of him and placing tiny kisses all over his tears stained cheeks.

“My dad. He just went in on me today. I tried to explain to him that I needed the weekend off to do a gig in Manchester. He said I couldn’t because of work.”

“Okay?” You didn’t really see why this would be enough to cry over. There was probably more to the story though. Matt didn’t cry over just anything.

“He told me I didn’t have talent and that I should focus on having a real job. Then he said I was going to end up like my mum, no goals and no future. I can’t believe he talked about her like that.” You were honestly shocked. He never really talked about his mom. She left when he was little and so he resented her. It was a sore subject for him.

“I’m so sorry my love. Do you want to talk about it?” He shakes his head.

“Can you just hold me?” He sounded so run down and defeated, it truly broke you inside.

“Of course.” He sniffles like a small child and starts to remove his shoes and gets under the covers. You give him a sympathetic look and get in with him. He moves the blanket so you can shimmy up against his chest and his steady breathing almost puts you to sleep.

“I love you.” He muffles in your hair.

“I love you too Matt.” He then lifts your chin to look at him in the eyes and he leans in to capture your lips in his. The kiss was innocent enough until it wasn’t.

And well, you know the rest.

You both took some time to regain normal breathing once you were done. His hand sneaks across the bed to grab yours in his and he gives you a thankful look. With a squeeze of your interlaced fingers he leans in and kisses your forehead.

“You’re too good to me.” You smile widely and place yourself against his chest.

“Stop.” You blush.

“It’s true. You and my music are the only positive things in my life right now.” You look up at him and place a kiss on his lips.

“Go to Manchester. If your dad asks I’ll cover for you.” He quickly sits up and looks at you with shock.

“Are you serious.” You nod and giggle.

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would. I’ve got your back Matt. Go play your music and get us out of here once you sign a record deal.” You laugh. He then jumps on top of you and peppers you with kisses.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. Hey Y/N? Have I ever told you that I love you?” You roll your eyes and smirk before pushing him off of you.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now get out of my house and pack your shit. You have a long drive ahead of ya.” He beams and goes in for another kiss before you push him off once more. He shoots up out of bed and starts to walk out of the room but you yell after him.

“Hey, you forgetting something?” He frowns in confusion then looks down, noticing he isn’t wearing anything. All out on display for you. It was a nice sight sure but you didn’t want to distract him by pulling him back into bed. It didn’t hurt to look though.

“Oh right my clothes.” You giggle as you watch him quickly collect them and struggle to get into his pants, hopping around your room. His excitement radiated which got your stomach bubbling with happiness as well. You loved to see him happy and content so this was nice for you.

“Bye love.” He walks over to your side of bed and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Bye rockstar.” You whisper as he runs out the room leaving you naked and disheveled. In a good way though.

August 5th 1987

It was now Sunday and it would be safe to say that this would be a Sunday you would never forget.

You were currently sitting on the closed toilet seat in your bathroom as your best friend Lizzy sat on the bathtub edge.

“Is it time yet?” She asks, shifting forward to try to get a better look at the object in your hand.

“Lizzy, stop I can’t see if you're in the way.” You say nervously, your leg shaking and your thumb in your mouth, biting away at the nail.

All of a sudden the timer sitting on the sink goes off and you jump slightly. Your stomach churns and you grip the stick a little harder before flipping it over.

Your breath catches in your throat and tears brim your eyes.

“Well?” Lizzy asks, clearly impatient. Without saying anything you hand over the stick and put your head in your hands, sobbing.

“Jesus Christ.” She mutters after looking at the result.

August 6th 1987

“Matt I’m pregnant.” You say. No, that was too abrupt.

“Matthew, I’m having your kid.” No, that sounds awkward.

“You knocked me up and now you got to pay child support.” That’s just uncalled for.

“I am with child.” Who says that? You honestly didn’t know how you were going to break the news to him.

You paced around your room waiting for your boyfriends return. It was now Monday and his time in Manchester was finally over. Usually you would be ecstatic and ready to greet him with open arms.

This time it didn’t feel like that. This time around, you felt this awful weight on your shoulders and this dull ache in your stomach that wouldn’t go away. And it wasn’t just the baby.

How were you going to explain to him that he got you pregnant and basically every dream he ever had would now be crushed by a little crying, shiting alien. Oh you were going to be an amazing mom, you thought sarcastically.

Sure you had a job at the college radio station and Matt had the clothes stand (probably not for long though). But none of this was the plan.

You were taken out of your thoughts as one of Matt’s band members' car screeched down the road, synth blasting through the speakers. The car abruptly stopped in front of Matt’s and he jumped out, then pulled out his keyboard and bag, completely oblivious to the bombshell you were going to drop on him. He laughs at a joke and you can’t help but admire his smile before he waves his friends off and enters his home.

You assumed he was going to come right out to see you but he didn’t. You frowned and waited a couple minutes but nothing. You thought about going over to his but you were honestly so nervous you just layed on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

About ten minutes later, a loud banging could be heard from downstairs, you waited a second until the door just opened and the figure ran up the stairs.

“Y/N?” It was Matt. Your heart was racing as he entered your bedroom, fuming. Uh oh, you thought. He knew.

His nostrils are flaring and his hands are clenched.

“Fuck him!” He yells. Nevermind

“I come home, super happy. Gig went great by the way. But why would that matter when the first thing I hear when I come home is my dad screaming at me? I am so sick and tired of being pushed around by him. He doesn’t respect me and I don’t want to live under the same roof if he,”

“Matt.”

“Just because I don’t want to live out his dream doesn’t mean he can treat me like that. Honesty you and me should just leave. Get in my car and never come back. London sounds nice doesn’t it. That’s where I can hand off my demos. It will be perfect. Just the two of us.”

Not exactly, you thought.

“Matt.” You then say louder

“And another thing. He barely does anything when he isn’t working. He has the audacity to say I don’t have goals when he lays around all day while I’m-“

“Matt!” You yell finally.

“What?” He seems a little agitated at the fact that you weren’t listening.

“I’m pregnant.” You just had to say it. His face drops then almost becomes angry.

“Seriously Y/N, I don’t have the time for this. I’m already super pissed with my dad. I don’t need you joking around and pulling my leg about something like that.” That response does you in. Of course he thinks it’s a joke. Even though you have been living with the reality of it for the last 24 hours. All of the pent up stress finally leaves your body and you break down.

“I wasn’t joking.” You whisper out through your cries. His face drops again.

“Oh.” Now he didn’t know what to say. It was quite for a while, just your sobs as he stood there completely flabbergasted. He never thought about having kids. Didn’t even occur to him.

“You're not joking?” He finally says.

“NO!” You yell chucking a pillow at his face. How could he not get it through his thick skull. Seeing you in distress makes his heart hurt so he sits down beside you on the bed. He didn’t really know what to do so he just pats your back weirdly.

Then almost out of natural instinct he moves his hand to slide onto your belly.

“That’s our baby?” He asks quietly. Almost like he couldn’t believe. You look up with red, glossy eyes and sniffle.

“Yeah.” He could see how hopeless you were. He couldn’t leave you alone.

“I love you.” He says. You close your eyes, absorbing the words you always loved to hear. He was still your Matt.

“And this baby.” He says after which shocks you.

“Matt you don’t have t-“

“Shh.” He put a finger to your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You smile weakly and lean in for a deep and loving kiss.

“Matt I need to tell my parents.” He sighs and leans his forehead on yours.

“Your dad is going to kill me.”

“Well you should have thought of that before you ca-“

“Yeah okay I get it.” He rolls his eyes and grabs your hand to go out back where your parents were enjoying glasses of lemonade.

“Mum? Dad?” You said while standing, Matt right beside you.

“What is it dear?” Your mom asks, moving her sunglasses down her face. She always thought she was posher then she really was.

“Matt and I are having a baby.” And with that, the glass in her mother's hand dropped to the ground, spilling all over to the grass, leaving a feast for the ants.

Her father just looks at her in disgust and gets up and walks past them. Not even acknowledging what was happening. He was in denial.

“Oh that won’t do.” Her mother says.

“It isn’t really your choice now is it mum?” You say.

“Oh but it is. Because when the women at the book club ask about the family I will not tell them about my whore of a daughter.

This stung. A lot. You never got much support from your parents so you were almost numb to their shitty parenting.

“Okay well, um nice chat. We’ll be off then. Good luck with everything.”

“You’ll be back.” She says leaning back into her chair. No care in the world.

“Without a baby and your deadbeat boyfriend.” She continues.

Matt’s fists clench and you have to hold him back from him blowing up. Once he calms down you turn and start walking back in the house, Matt trailing behind you.

“What was that?” He says shocked. You crack a smile and grab your boyfriend's cheeks.

“We are free Matt.” You whisper. He scrunches his brows.

“What do you mean?” You pass him and run up the steps.

“I’ll call my aunt Helen in London. Go pack everything essential and meet me out front.”

He stands there for a second, surprised at your burst of energy but follows your instructions, leaving out the front door.

You worked on your room for a good twenty minutes and finished up the call with Aunt Helen before rushing downstairs with your bag.

“Where do you think you're going?” Your father says from the living room.

“Away. Thanks for everything or lack thereof. Hope all goes well.” You say bitterly.

“You're not leaving.” He says sternly, getting up and slamming the door as you open it. He towers over you and you stare him down like a little ferocious chihuahua.

“I loved you, and still do. It saddens me you couldn’t be a proper dad. I hope you learn from your mistakes and get your act together.” And with that you opened the door once more and closed it behind you, leaving your stunned dad.

Matt sat in the car patiently, then giving you a wide smile when you threw your stuff in the back and hopped in beside him.

“I love you.” You say.

“I love you too.” He grabs your hand before backing out of the parking lot and towards your new future.

April 7th 1988

“Matt get down here!” Your aunt yelled. She had been helping you and Matt out in your new apartment as you prepared for the baby. But there wasn’t much prep left to do since your water had just broken.

Loud footsteps could be heard coming down the steps to reveal your shirtless boyfriend with headphones around his neck.

“What, what happened.” He says frantically grabbing a crewneck sweatshirt and covering himself.

“My water broke.” You say calmly, not understanding why everyone was panicking.

“Oh god. Um Helen why don't you grab the bag. Y/N my love let's get you into the car yeah?” He tries to put his hand on your lower back but you swat it away.

“I’m fine. Stop grabbing me.” He sighs and lets you waddle down the apartment stairs, clearly struggling but too stubborn to ask for help.

Everything was fine until the end of the car ride. That was when the contractions kicked in.

All in all the process was awful. You asked for an epidural the second it was offered and you were chewing on ice to distract from yourself from the pain. Matt was an absolute travesty of a human . He was constantly putting his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. Throughout the pregnancy he had become a homebody. He didn’t seem like a party animal anymore. Just a man who loved his music and his girlfriend who would occasionally hang out with his old friends from Luton and new ones in London. He had proved to you during these past nine months that he was ready, even if he didn’t think he was. Watching him pace almost eased the gut wrenching pain. He was a dad.

When the actual birth happened, you weren't the nicest. Swearing at everyone and gripping onto Matt blaming him for everything and how he caused all this. It did hurt him but he knew you weren’t coherent. You couldn’t control your feelings.

But once your child was born though everything seemed to be right in the world. You were barely conscious but enough to ask for your baby.

“Congratulations, Ms L/N. It’s a girl.” Matt was a blubbering mess when he saw his little girl be passed to you. She was so small and it almost scared him just how much he loved her already. He never thought someone could match you in his ranks. He was wrong. The small baby cried and cried. The nurses came around to give you their best wishes and your aunt finally came in to check up on you. After all that was done, Matt and you were left alone with your perfect creation.

“She looks like you.” You say as you look down at the sleeping baby, her hand curled around your finger.

“You think?” He asks, cuddling in more on the hospital bed.

“Hmhm.” You say.

“Look what we did.” He chuckles to himself, in awe of everything happening. He then raises his hand and you roll your eyes before giving him his high five, a proud look on his face.

“Daddy loves you Hayley.” Matt whispers before giving his daughter a small kiss on the forehead. She yawned in return.

“And I love you Y/N.” You smile up at him and place a kiss on his lips.

“I’m so proud of you.”

July 17th 2005

You sighed deeply as you leaned against the wall and removed your paint splattered converse. For the last decade you have been a commission artist who has actually made a name for yourself in London and even out of the city.

You could hear synth coming from the office which made you roll your eyes. He better not be doing this again.

You walk down the hall and open the office door to see Matt on the computer with Hayley who was home from school for the summer.

“See right there. Isn’t that amazing! Nothing like it.” You smirk at your family.

“Sure dad. But let me show you this.” She leans over him and types in a song in her music library. ‘Since U Been Gone’ by Kelly Clarkson starts playing, a song she has already shown you. Matt thinks for a minute.

“Eh not bad, not Duran Duran but you know.”

“If I’m not mistaken, people thought your music was odd when we were young.’ Matt and Hayley turn around to see you leaning against the doorframe.

“Hi love, how was work?” Matt gets up and brings you in for a kiss. Hayley doesn't even flinch because she was so desensitized at this point when you guys showed each other affection. Even after all this time you two were still madly in love.

“Eh fine. Not getting stuff done as quickly as I like but you know.”

“Hi Mum.” Hayley calls out.

“Hey baby, how was your day?”

“Fine. Hung out with Jason.”

“Jason?” You repeat confused.

“Don’t even ask.” Matt says rolling his eyes. He was always the protective type.

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #matt blinded by the light #blinded by the light #Spotify

[benhardyisdaddy]

must be a dream - part 3

MASTERLIST 

(welcome to part 3 and i hope u all enjoy this wild roller coaster :))) ALSO i will take every single billy pic/gif yall have plz lolol)

Word Count: 2,475

“And that’s where we are now,” says One. “Here in your apartment while completely disregarding apparently everything. Ya know, staying dead isn’t that hard!”

One had turned around to give Billy an irritated look. He rolls his eyes as he continues to hold Stella close to him. Everyone looks back to you and watches as you stare into space with your eyebrows knitted together. Tears welled up in your eyes as they suddenly begin pouring down. You don’t fight them back or wipe them away. You allow them to trickle down as your mind is racing. You’re trying to wrap your head around everything One had just told you. You weren’t sure how to feel at the moment. 

You were beyond happy to know that Billy was alive and well, but you were also beside yourself. You were hurt and angry, but mostly offended. You lightly shake your head as your eyes scan the room and lock with Billy’s. He swallows hard as your eyes narrow and your chin quivers. He hates seeing you like this. You were destroyed and this was all his fault. 

“You abandoned me.” you barely whisper. 

His heart shattered even more. His face drops as he continues to watch you in distraught. 

“You promised me you’d come back and you never did!” you slightly shout as you stand up fast. “You left me for… For strangers! You left me all alone to cry myself to sleep, so what!? So you could become some superhero? You gave up everything to play dead!?” 

The anger that you had bottled up was finally about to explode. You could feel it burning and gurgling in your chest as everyone takes a step back from you. Your face was going red as your eyes were becoming dark. Billy holds Stella even closer to him as he fights back tears. You were speaking the truth and he knows it. 

“I know,” he says fast. “I know that I hurt you and destroyed what we have! You don’t think it killed me every day to not be able to see you?” he asks. 

“It killed you!?” you ask loudly as you take another step towards him. “How about me going more than a year thinking that you were actually killed!” 

Billy didn’t know what else to say. He felt defenseless. No matter what he says, you were always going to bite back even harder. 

“I will never forgive myself for leaving you, y/n.” he says quietly. 

It goes silent for a moment as you two just stare at each other. Your chin quivers as you slowly shake your head. 

“If I hadn't seen you at the park… Would you have ever came back?” 

You asked a question you already knew the answer to. Billy just stares at you with wide eyes as he thinks about it. He doesn’t answer fast enough and you knew it. No. He wouldn’t of. If you hadn't seen him today, he would’ve snuck away and would have still been dead to you. That’s what hurts the most to think about. 

“You didn’t want me anymore,” you whisper. 

“That’s not true!” Billy harshly whispers back as he takes a step forward. 

You ignore him as you continue speaking. 

“You abandoned me when I needed you the most and if I can go all this time thinking you’re dead, I can go even longer.” 

That statement is what causes Billy to stop in his tracks and lose his breath. It’s as if someone had punched the air out of him. No matter how hard he tried to breathe, he just couldn’t. You can’t look him in the eyes as you walk up and grab Stella from his arms. You hold her against you as you quickly backup and stare at the floor. You were shaking hard as you wipe tears away and sniffle. 

“You don’t get to play dead and decide when it’s more convenient for you to come back into our lives. You need to leave.” 

Your tone was stern, but still hesitant. Of course you didn’t actually want Billy to leave. You wanted him to stay with you forever and always, but you were angry. Beyond angry. No words could describe this feeling inside. You just couldn’t look at him right now. Every time you do, you get more upset. The rest of the gang all look to Billy with their eyes wide. They knew how badly this was hurting him. 

One watches you for a moment as he frowns and walks up to Billy. His heart hurts for you as well, but he needed to take care of his team. He pats Billy on the back and leans in a bit. 

“We need to go.” he whispers. 

Billy is still staring at you as he nods his head, but doesn’t move his feet. He’s frozen in place. 

“C’mon, Four.” whispers One as he slightly pushes him towards the door. 

You want to scream out and tell him to come back, but you don’t. You just watch as everyone exits the apartment. Billy’s the last one to leave, but before he does, he turns around to look at you once more.

“This is where we’re staying and these are our room numbers. Just… In case.” says Two as she slides a piece of paper on your desk. 

You watch her quietly as you nod your head slightly. Billy is watching you intensely as he speaks.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he chokes out. “I was doing something good for once. Something I thought would make you proud.” 

“And you thought making me proud would be by deserting me?” you spat at him. 

You didn’t mean to be so harsh and cruel towards him. You know that every time you are, his heart breaks a little more. You couldn’t help yourself. This anger you felt had a mind of it’s own and you couldn’t control it. You just needed to be by yourself. Billy flinches at your harsh words as he shuts his eyes and tenses his jaw. He takes in a deep breath and turns to walk out. 

“I still love you.” he mumbles just before closing the door behind him. 

Once it’s shut, you hurry up to it and lock it fast. You gently rest your head on top of Stella’s as your eyes squeeze shut. You begin sobbing as your body shakes. You force your way to your bed and sit down on it before your legs go out from underneath you. Stella coos a bit as she wiggles around and drifts to sleep. You thank the gods that you have her in your life. You kiss the top of her head as you lay her down beside you. You lay down as well and close your eyes. Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks as you drift off to sleep.

***

“Well, that went as planned.” sarcastically says One. 

Everyone rolls their eyes as Billy sits on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He’s lost in thought as they all speak about what had just happened. 

“What if she turns us in?” asks Five. 

“She wouldn’t do that.” Three says fast. 

“How would you know!?” asks Five defensively. 

“Because you saw the look on her face!” shouts Three. “She’s not saying anything!” 

They all begin talking at once as Billy completely mutes them. His mind is focused on you and Stella only. He then suddenly remembers the letters you wrote. His eyes go wide as he leans over the bed and grabs his backpack. He unzips it fast and pulls out the bundle of letters with his name on them. He holds them close to his chest as he slowly and quietly makes his way off of the bed and towards the bathroom. Nobody notices him as they all bicker at one another. Billy locks the door behind him and walks to the bathtub. He steps inside and sits down. He needed to read at least one more you had wrote. He just needed a part of you with him. 

Dear Billy, 

Two weeks have passed since my last letter to you. I stopped writing for many reasons. Preparing for a baby is very time consuming (I’m sure you’d love every single second of it), work has been busy and, well… I feel almost silly for doing this. For writing to someone who I’ll never see again. Someone who will never read any of these. But ever since I stopped writing to you, something strange has been happening. 

I see you everywhere, Billy. I’ve seen you as clear as day on the other side of the road while I’m out for a stroll. I’ve stopped in my tracks as you just stared at me. It was so real, Billy. It was as if you were actually there, but you weren’t. The moment someone walked by, you would vanish and I would feel completely insane. You’re everywhere and yet nowhere all at once. I keep telling myself it’s my imagination, but I don’t want to believe that. I want to believe that it’s you and that you’re somehow still here. I’ve thought about getting help for it. As much as I love seeing your face in a crowd, it’s become too much for me. 

Your eyes are always so tired with dark bags under them. You never smile - there’s always a faint frown. You seem so unhappy and I so badly want to run across the street and help you, but I can’t. I can never help you again. I’ve failed you and I can never tell you how truly sorry I am. I’m so sorry you’ll never be able to meet our sweet Stella. I’m so sorry that you’re not here to feel her tiny kicks. They’re starting to become more prominent and it feels so real now. She’s real. I still can’t believe we’re going to be parents. I promise that she will grow up to know how amazing her father is. She will never go a day without me talking about you. I promise, Billy. I just miss you so much. I want you home again. I lost my home the day I lost you… So please come back. 

Yours Forever, 

Y/n 

Billy’s face is twisted with tears flooding his eyes. His body is gently shaking as he covers his face with his hand and fights back a loud sob. He should’ve thought all of this through, but he didn’t. Why he didn’t think this would affect you this badly? He’s not sure. All he’s sure about is how he failed you. As a lover and as a friend. And now as a father. He has to make all of this right… And fast. He needs to fix this before he loses you all over again. He owes you at least that much. Before Billy stands up to walk out, there’s a loud bang at the bathroom door. 

“Billy, we need to talk to you!” calls out Two. 

Billy jumps at her sudden voice as he freezes and looks back down at the letter in his hand. He slowly stands up and wipes away the tears from his face. He takes in a deep breath and steps back out into the hotel room. Everyone’s turned and facing him. He knits his eyebrows all confused as he stops and looks around at them.

 “What?” he asks fast. 

“We have an idea,” says Two with a slight smile on her face. 

“About?” asks Billy, still not understanding. 

“About y/n, you idiot!” calls out Three. 

One stands up and walks over to Billy with a hard to read expression. He pats him on the shoulder and raises his eyebrows. 

“You might want to sit down for this.” 

***

You’re still in bed fast asleep with Stella beside you. All was quiet as you snooze away with not a care in the world. You dream of Billy and as it was before he left you. You’re both smiling and laughing as he holds you close to him. Everything seemed so normal and perfect. You were actually happy. He was making you laugh by some cheesy joke he was telling and you never wanted this moment to end… But it did. 

Loud banging caused you to flinch awake. Your eyes fly open as your heart races like crazy. You look over to a sleeping Stella and begin to calm down when suddenly more banging it heard. You gasp as you sit up fast and look towards your door. You slip from the covers and very gently tip toe over to it. You hold your breath as you lean forward and look through the peephole. Your heart almost stops as you spot two men dressed in all black. One of them looks down at his watch to check the time. The other moves his jacket slightly and reveals a gun in his waistband. You cover your mouth with your hand just as one of them leans forward and bangs again on the door. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” you whisper to yourself.

You automatically go into fight or flight mode. All you can think about in this moment is Stella and making sure to keep her safe. Whoever these guys are, they’re more than likely here because of Billy and everyone else. You rush over to a drawer by your desk and pull out a baby carrier that Billy’s mom had gotten for you. You quickly buckle it around your shoulders and waist as you gently pick up Stella. She whines a bit as you place her inside of it and make sure she’s in securely. 

She places her head on your chest as you look around for anything else you might need. Your eyes fall onto a piece of paper on your desk. You quickly remember Two giving you the address for the hotel they’re staying at and their room numbers. You hurry to it and slip it in your pocket. You need to get out of there. You hurry to a window that leads to a set of fire stairs and open it up. The men at the door begin kicking at it brutally. You know it won’t stay closed forever. You hold Stella close to you as you step out into the night and take in a deep breath. 

You’ve been doing this kind of thing with Billy for as long as you can remember. All that’s in your way now is that there’s a baby involved. You look down at Stella and nod your head as you begin making your way down to the first floor. Just as you make it safely, you hear your apartments door fling open. You hear deep voices and the sound of glass shattering as you begin running towards the direction of the hotel. Whoever these guys were, you know six people that might know them.

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#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy x oc #benhardy #benhardyxreader #benhardyisdaddy #benhardy!billy #6u!billyxreader #billyxreader #6 underground #6underground #fic #series #angst #suspense #action #romance #must be a dream #part 3

[ashitpos-t]

Why Don’t You Do Right

Chapter 1 of my Husk x Fem!Reader on my AO3 account.

CW: Murder, Suggestive Themes, and Alcohol

The empty glass of liquor shook in your weak hand, your legs draped over your bathtub as you stared up at the tiled ceiling, tears burning your searing cheeks. You could feel your vision spotting and your limbs going numb, it was becoming harder to breathe, and your eyelids fluttered in attempts to grab onto anything that wasn't becoming shrouded in black. A faint frown became almost painfully painted onto your features, you were dying, you were really dying, you wouldn't be able to see the sun again, to really be happy again, and you couldn't do anything about it. If you had enough energy you would've called an ambulance, you really would have, but it was far too late for that now, and the man with the gun planted firmly on your temple wouldn't allow that.

"just fucking do it already," you muttered out, voice cracking from the sob caught in your throat, you wouldn't let yourself truly cry in front of the jackass.

You heard the gun ready against your head, "whatever you say, whore."

Then you heard a bang, saw black, and finally, red.

---

 You adjusted your black laced bralette and long, lace trimmed stockings held up by garters.  The silky see-through shawl that adorned your shoulders and met the slip of panties at your waist barely covered up your nearly nude form.  Your small, fluffy tail that sat just at the base of your back along with the ears that were coddled in your short, wavy bob feigned a strange sense of innocence in your other wise raunchy getup.  By the sound of all the jeers in the crowd, it looked like you had to be good to get any kind of payment from the demons jesting in the bar.

Sure, you had done this before, but you had never preformed in a place like this, not in front of a handful of drugged out freaks and murders.  You'd only done any kind of erotic performance while you were alive, while you were much safer than you currently were.  You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts from the announcement of your name by the stage hand through the gnarled microphone that only sent you into more of a panic.  Goosebumps trailed your skin as a feeble hand grasped the red curtain that only moments before hid you.  Your stocking covered leg was the first to show into the warm, yellowed spotlight, followed by the rest of your shamelessly hourglass shaped form.  You tried your best to feign confidence as you strutted towards the microphone, your presence finally starting to feel familiar as you grasped the rusted mic.

"how are you boys doin' tonight," you smiled, thick eyelashes fluttering at each disgustingly drunk demon, gladly their whistles told you that you were doing fine.

Your lips parted into song, and the applause at the end of your performance gave you a handsome payment, especially for your first show in hell.

 But that was 64 years ago, and this was now.

 Your heavy eyebags clashed with your slightly smudged eyeliner and shimmering makeup across your eyelids and cheeks.  The golden brown whiskey in the glass, held by your black stiletto manicure, swayed with every movement of your wrist, and washed down any kind of emotions that dared to seep through into your face, especially when you threw your head back when you took an exceptionally large swig of the alcohol before you.

You tiredly eyed the thickly scaled bartender, who gave you yet another glass of the whiskey silently, completely understanding your request just by the look you gave him.  He'd gotten it dozens of times before from hundreds of other patrons, the look that was worn in and ready to give up.   The sickly tv that sat screwed into the wall just to the right of you had been playing the 666 news, broadcasting some sort of announcement from the princess of hell or something of another.  You really didn't bother to pay attention.  You wouldn't even think about anything else other than a smoke or a drink after a performance, they had begun to take so much out of you recently, whether it was the way men tried to grab you or the offhanded comments you'd get didn't matter much, you hated all of it equally.

Your fluttering eyes finally strayed to the television when the head news anchor, Katie Killjoy, began to clobber the other blonde for a reason you simply didn't bother to think of.

"whats up with them?"  You questioned as you gestured towards the television, leaning into the bar, while splitting your attention between the bartender and the fight.

With a sigh, he stated, “some broad decided to start up a hotel that's supposed to ‘rehabilitate sinners’, er whatever the hell that means.”

You nodded, not even minding his under-the-breath curses or blatant rudeness.  You had learned all you needed to know from the guy and were sure as hell ready to pry yourself off of the crummy leather barstool and lived in wooden counter.

You stood up and you passed a dirtied 20 dollar bill over to the bar tender which he lazily took, and stupidly enough, you had already made up your mind to head over to the hotel and check it out.  If rehabilitating sinners meant what you thought it had meant, you'd be getting a free room and maybe even make it out of the shit hole known as hell, but it wasn't like you really wanted an out anyway, what you really wanted was to stop paying rent.

You walked over to the door with a faint idea of where you would be going, and quickly opened the bar's door, a sudden feeling of dread crawling into your skin as you began your short lived search for the hotel.  Your black heels clicked along the worn out, paved sidewalk.  The pentagram hanging dauntingly above you reminded you of where you were, the thought only made you walk faster, while your arms crossed over your chest as you leaned into each step, keen on hurrying to the hotel, if you could even find it.

You let go a breath you had been holding in your chest, the sign of the hotel had come into view, large letters read, "happy hotel" the sheer innocence of it enticed a small laugh out of you that only you heard, not like any of the demons around you really cared anyway.

You'd been around hell long enough to recognize a worn out idea when you saw one.  The happy hotel looked to be like any other cheesy tv ad that tried to sell you an outrageous offer that was too good to be true, at a "modest" price.  A handful of fear struck fools would wander into the place, get the wake up call that they're too much of a load of shit to be redeemed, and walk out of the shit show.

How lucifer even approved of this was a mind fuck in of itself, was the princess really that innocent, so stupid?

You had lost hope in ever redeeming yourself years ago.  When you first got into the business of selling yourself out to bars and other places to perform you wholeheartedly believed you would get better, that the job would be temporary.  You said the same thing when you started drinking and smoking.  You never wanted to work at such awful places, you wanted to do more things in your life.  You wanted to really sing at nice places, you wanted to really open up, you wanted to be yourself.

Hell wasn't a place for people like you, for people who didn't have the gull to even speak their mind, to be too scared to show who they really are. 

You snapped yourself out of your racing, and slightly mocking, thoughts when you noticed you were just at the door step of the hotel.  The two doors that were in front of you shown with two red apples surrounded by golden glass panes, the glass work by itself was beautiful by itself, not to mention the intricate carvings of the wood.

You hesitated slightly before knocking on the door, quickly folding you hands at the waist as you waited for god knows who to greet you at the door.  A blonde demon gazed up at you with excited eyes right when the door swung open, her mouth parted into an awe-struck smile as she threw her hand out for you to shake which you gladly took.

"Hello! My name is Charlie! Did you see us on the news?" she started, quickly rambling into all kinds of other questions and side tangents as she vigorously shook your hand.

You smiled a quiet smile as you calmly interrupted, "My name is y/n."

She gasped as she let go of your hand, "oh gosh, I didn't even realize I started to ramble."

You began to wonder how such a nice demon was raised in a place like this, surrounded by awful people at every turn.

She really was cute, "don't worry about it doll, but i am interested in the hotel, what exactly do you want to do here, again?" You questioned, honestly interested and quite charmed by her positively upbeat personality.

"I'm so glad you asked!" she began, "I'd like to solve over population in hell by redeeming sinners!  Hopefully by the end of it they'll get sent straight to heaven."  You nodded along politely as she leaded you into the hotel, gesturing to paintings and furnishings while lightly glossing over the general location of the kitchen, guest rooms, and presently, the lobby. 

You took notice of a spider and moth demon in another room, the two of them taking small jabs at each other in a way that made it clear that they wished to annoy each other.  You chuckled lightly at this before turning to face Charlie once again, the pink cheeked demon standing a bit shorter than you, even if you didn't have heels on.  

"So, what do you think?" she looked eager and hopeful, obviously hoping for your reaction to be positive in any way.

You hesitated.  What did you think?  You thought it was pointless, impossible, and obviously wouldn't work, but at the same time, her hope and love for the place made you feel a little less poorly about it.

"I think it sounds wonderful, Charlie," you smiled down at her, "If it wouldn't be a bother, I think I'd like to stay for awhile."

She absolutely beamed at your response, nodding while shaking your hands in hers before skipping over to tell the moth demon of your interest in the hotel.  The girl instantly smiled at the news, eyes shifting from Charlie to you with nothing but warm features, all the while nodding along with her rambles.

A knock cut through the moment Charlie was having with the other girl, both yours and Charlie's head snapped to the door, you smile faltering slightly as you slowly walked to the door, Charlie following close behind.  The awful feeling you had festered in your gut returned, while your heart seemed to jump into your throat.  Your arms became covered in goosebumps as the smaller demon opened the door only to be greeted by a loud, almost deafening sound of a radio sputter that enveloped the air, causing your ears to press against the sides of your head along with a wince in your features.  Your heart skipped a beat at the frighteningly tall deer demon standing in the door way.  You instantly recognized that face, those clothes, and the cocky expression.

It was the radio demon.

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfic #husk x reader #fem!reader #alastor #husk #niffty #charlie magne #vaggie #reader insert #x reader #longfic #ongoing

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ What You Deserve (Doyoung Kim)

Genre: Dark, Angst, Fluff, Romance ☁

Word Count: 3,421 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Kim Doyoung ☁

World: NCT ☁

WARNING: This fic contains self-harm, attempted suicide and talks about depression. Read at your own risk.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You’re not sure when it started, or how or why. It felt like it had been with you for most of your life. Maybe it started in high school where you spent every day being bullied and abused by your fellow students. At that time, your only bit of sanity was with your best friend, Johnny, but he had started to pull away from you.

Not on purpose, you knew. He had a dream that he was working hard towards achieving, but… in doing so, you began to fade away. Since you were children, Johnny had always been the anchor that kept you from floating away while also being the one that kept your head above water.

When he moved to Korea, you started to drown and didn’t know how to save yourself.

You had convinced yourself that everyone hated you and that you were only a burden to those around you. Johnny did his best to keep in touch as much as possible, which kept you going for a while. As bad as you never wanted it to end, you knew that it would.

Johnny had achieved his dream, debuting with a group called NCT 127 and they were quickly climbing the latter of popularity. He started to have less and less time for you until, finally, he stopped contacting you altogether. Four months passed without so much as a text saying, ‘hi’.

It had finally happened. Johnny realized that you were just a broken burden and decided to move on with his life. He forgot all about the needy, depressed little Y/N. That’s what you convinced yourself of.

You couldn’t take it anymore – the pain, the self-hate, the torment. It was all too much for you to face alone. With the weight of the world on your shoulders, you made up your mind.

You were going to kill yourself.

When Friday rolled around, your father left for his business trip, unaware of the plans his child had.

A bad storm had rolled in out of nowhere that night. Thunder shook the building as rain violently pounded the Earth. It was like the gods themselves were angry.

It comforted you in a weird way.

You lit a candle, setting it on the bathroom sink so you could see what you were doing. The power had been knocked out after a rather violent gust of wind knocked a palm tree into the power lines. This set everything into motion as the power line sparked, setting the palm tree on fire.

Unaware of the chaos outside, you slipped into the bathtub, your clothes getting heavy as they absorbed the water. Your eyes scanned your forearms, scanning the scars that littered your skin.

Even in the dull lighting, you could see each one perfectly. The old and the new, mingling together. Your finger traced them, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you remembered each one. Every single scar held a painful memory and you were cursed with remembering each one as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

Your hand shook as you picked up the razor blade.

This was it. All of your pain and suffering, all of the blood and suffering… it had all lead you to this moment. It was finally going to end. You were finally going to find peace.

So why were you hesitating? Why did you feel fear?

The metal rested against your wrist, making small cuts in your skin since you couldn’t steady your hand. ‘This is for the best’, you tried to convince yourself. ‘When I die, dad won’t have to work so hard to pay for my medical bills. He won’t stress himself over me. He can move on with his life and find the happiness he deserves. I… I have to do this!’

Lightning lit up the darkness as you screamed out, ripping the blade across your skin harder than you ever had before. Blood started to pour from the wound, dropping into the water and turning it an ugly faded red.

You slid down in the tub as the wound started to sting, your body shaking. Whether it was from your sobbing or from the pain, you didn’t know.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your ears faintly picked up the sound of pounding on the front door. Hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway followed by the cries of children. It sounded hazy to you like you were dreaming.

“Open up, there’s a fire in the building!” The banging continued. “We’re coming in!”

You heard the door slam open and several pairs of feet rushed into the apartment.

Everything went black.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hoarse groan passed your lips as the insistent beeping disturbed your sleep. Eyes sliding open, you blinked a few times before it focused on the white ceiling above you. ‘Am I… dead?’, you wondered, forcing yourself to sit up.

The room was dark, lit up only by the lights of the heart monitor you were connected to. It was still raining, reduced to a soft pitter-patter against the window. The whiteboard on the wall bore the date, Tuesday.

It was clear that your attempt had failed. You eyed the thick bandage around your wrist. The only thing you could think about was the medical bills your father would have to pay.

‘I can’t even kill myself properly…’

The door creaked open and a woman you didn’t recognize entered the room. Your first instinct was that she was a nurse, but you soon realized that she was wearing a Victorian style dress.

Squinting through the darkness, you noticed something dripping from her hands. It was blood, splattering against the linoleum. All other sounds disappeared except for the dripping.

“Wh-Who are you?” You stuttered out, feeling your body tense. You knew something wasn’t right.

The woman started to laugh, low and vacant of humor. It gradually increased in volume until it filled the room.

You could feel terror taking over you as you scrambled back, your finger repeatedly smashing the nurse call button. The speaker behind the bed beeped as it normally would, but instead of getting a nurse you only heard the laughter coming through the static.

The woman moved closer, her bare feet slapping against the floor. “Selfish child,” she muttered.

You stumbled back off the bed, tripping over the various wires and tubes connected to your body. Hitting the floor hard, you winced as the IV was ripped from your arm. Within seconds, the woman was on top of you, her bloody hands wrapped tight around your throat.

Her eyes were wild and bloodshot. “Selfish child! Selfish child!” She kept repeating the same two words, voice growing louder with each repetition until she was screaming at the top of her lungs. “SELFISH CHILD!”

You couldn’t breathe, struggling to push her off but your hand went through her body like she wasn’t there.

Dots of black started to cloud your vision until you were completely cloaked in darkness.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You shot up in bed, feeling your body enveloped in a cold sweat. Your hand grabbed your throat as you gasped for breath. Warmth surrounded your body and soft words were spoken into your ear. You couldn’t understand what was being said, but they did their job and slowly you started to calm.

A hand gripped your own and you looked up, meeting eyes with your dad. Almost instantly, you looked away from him, unable to face the tears that clung to his cheeks. You looked to your left, where the warmth was coming from, and you felt your body tense up again.

“J-Johnny?”

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back with a smile, breathing out deeply as he spoke. “Hey… how are you feeling?” His voice was rough, a clear indication that he had been crying.

“Why are you here?” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so rude, but last time you checked, he was in a different country living the life he wanted.

“What a stupid question,” he laughed, ruffling your hair like he always used to do when you were upset. “I came to make sure you were alright.”

You moved your gaze to the white cotton covering your body. There were so many thoughts and emotions rushing through your body that you felt completely overwhelmed. Anger, pain, guilt, confusion… they swirled together in the pit of your stomach.

Johnny knew you were about to start crying, his eyes flicking to the heart monitor as the rate increased. “Are you hungry? The hospital food sucks, and we’re not technically allowed to bring outside food in for patients, but your nurse is a big fan of NCT so I can probably get her to ignore it. There’s a Taco Bell not too far from here, I know it’s your favorite!”

You could only nod, not trusting your voice.

“Stay here, Johnny. I’ll go and get it.” Your dad announced, giving you a soft peck on the cheek before leaving the room. He knew that he couldn’t comfort you, despite how bad he wanted to. That’s why he made the decision that he did. You knew he felt like a failure as a father and you felt overwhelmed by guilt.

Johnny shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “I brought one of the members with me. He’s really smart, reliable and loves white chocolate.” He paused, mentally slapping himself. Surely after attempting suicide, you didn’t care about conversing with someone about chocolate. “He’s right down the hall, I’ll go grab him.”

When he left the room, you lifted your eyes to the whiteboard. It sat in the exact same place as it had in your dream and the date scrawled on was the same – Tuesday.

‘What was that dream?’, you couldn’t help but wonder. Even the rain was the same, gently sliding down the glass. ‘I was trying to make life easier for everyone, but I’m a selfish child?’

Johnny re-entered the room with another boy. The thing that stuck out the most was his rich blue hair. “This is Doyoung, he’s one of our vocalists. Doyoung, this is Y/N, my best friend.”

You winced at the words. Could you even consider yourself still his friend after all this? Must less his best friend. Surely he had found someone more suitable to the title within his new group.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Doyoung spoke politely in accented English, bowing slightly in respect. He was uncomfortable, feeling like he was intruding on something extremely personal, but Johnny had requested that he come along for support, and that was a request that he couldn’t deny.

The rest of the day was spent with the three men trying to make you smile, at the very least, but you just weren’t in the mood. It was strange – you wanted to be left alone but… at the same time, you didn’t want to be alone.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You were stuck in the hospital for observation for the next week. Both Johnny and Doyoung stayed with you, allowing your dad to get some rest and go to work. On the day of your release, you and Doyoung waited near the front of the hospital while Johnny ran over to the parking garage to get his rental.

You still felt a bit uncomfortable being alone with him since you didn’t know him well, so your eyes were scanning the area to give you something to do. You happened to glance at a painting on the wall and you felt a cold chill run down your back.

Feeling you tense next to him, Doyoung looked at you with worry. “Are you okay?”

You slowly stood up, approaching the painting. It was her, the woman from your dream. Her eyes were bloodshot and hollow like she had died a long time ago. There a small tag on the bottom of the frame with a name etched into it.

“Matilda Palmer…”

“She looks terrifying,” Doyoung commented as he came up beside you.

“She was quite a nice woman, once upon a time.”

You both turned around, seeing an elderly man looking at the photo sadly. His eyes met yours and he frowned.

“She spoke to you, didn’t she?”

A shiver ran through your body and you moved closer to Doyoung, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on the back of your head. It felt like the painting was burning a hole in your skull and you were too afraid to turn and check on it. Doyoung put his arm around your shoulder, looking at the man skeptically.

“Who… Who is she?” You questioned.

The man folded his hands behind his back, eyes sliding closed. “She haunts this hospital.”

“Haunts?” Doyoung’s grip tightened.

You glanced at him, patting his arm to try and calm him down despite the fact that you felt just as worried. “What happened to her?”

“She went insane after her child killed himself.”

Selfish child, selfish child, SELFISH CHILD!

You threw your hands over your ears as her voice echoed in your head. Having had enough, Doyoung excused himself and all but dragged you to the door of the hospital. Johnny pulled up just as you stepped outside and the pair of you hopped into the backseat.

He looked at you with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a weird man talking about the hospital being haunted…” Doyoung shivered. “Let’s just leave, okay?”

Johnny nodded and took off, tapping the steering wheel lightly. “Y/N? There’s something your dad and I didn’t tell you…”

“What would that be?” You questioned, rubbing your temples. You couldn’t stop thinking about that damned dream.

“We talked it over, and we both agreed that this is the best for you.” He paused, wondering what your reaction would be. “You’re coming back to Korea with us.”

“…Wait, what?!”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Although you were against the idea at first, you were glad that Johnny had forced you to come to Korea with him. It had been about four months since you moved into a small apartment with him and Doyoung. You expected to be left alone when he was working, but Johnny refused to let you be alone for more than a few minutes and forced you to come along with him. His managers were not happy about this, but it was something he refused to back down on. Doyoung and their leader, Taeyong, also backed him up since they both knew about your situation.

During this time, you had gotten increasingly close to Doyoung, who had made it his personal mission to look after you.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Doyoung questioned, smiling at you as he entered the apartment.

“Are you sure you won’t get into trouble?”

“Positive!” He gently grabbed your hand, tugging you towards the door. “I only had a photo shoot to do today, and I promised we’d go to the park.”

You sighed in defeat, allowing the male to pull you along. Worrying about ruining their careers constantly plagued your mind, but it didn’t seem to bother them. They always made sure to make time for you.

It was midday in Spring, the sun shining in a sea of fluffy white clouds. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. He led you to a small patch of grass on the outer edge of the park where you both sat comfortably.

He was feeling nervous, despite having been alone with you many times in the past. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You were lying back on the grass, staring up at the clouds.

“Are you happy?” He lightly picked at the grass nervously. “Being here with us, with… me.”

“I’m not sure how to answer that. I feel… fortunate having you guys in my life, but I also feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt that way.”

He turned to lie down next to you, propping his head up in his hand. “Do you mind if I ask…”

“Why did I try to kill myself?” You finished, locking eyes with him. He nodded. “Truthfully, several reasons. I was tired, mostly, but I thought I was doing everyone a favor. I felt like such a burden to my father…”

Hearing those words broke his heart. His hand slid onto of your own, eyes never leaving yours. He wanted to convey his feelings, but he wasn’t sure how you felt and he didn’t want to make you feel burdened. “Do you still feel that way?”

“Sometimes. More than anything, I feel guilty.” You paused for a moment. “Do you remember that painting at the Hospital?”

“How could I forget? It was so creepy,” he shivered, “And what was with that guy?”

“He was right. I did see her.”

His brow furrowed.

“It was in a dream, but I saw her. She kept repeating ‘selfish child’. I didn’t know what it meant until that man explained what happened to her.” You sighed, lacing your fingers with his. “I looked her up online. She only appears to those that have attempted suicide. Her son was depressed and had been hospitalized many times throughout his life for trying to kill himself. Finally, he succeeded… his mother was a wreck and, eventually, she went insane and stabbed the nurse that was looking after her. She was locked away in a padded cell and passed away three days later.”

“I see… that’s a shame.”

“At first, I thought she was just a vengeful spirit, angry about what her son had done, but… she’s trying to stop others from making the same mistakes that her son had.”

“I think… when you kill yourself, you also kill those around you.” He whispered, moving closer so that he could rest his head on your shoulder. His hand held yours against his chest. “Depression makes you think that others are better off without you, but that’s not the case. I was there when Johnny got the call. It was like his world had shattered. He dropped the phone and fell to his knees in shock. We were about to go on a variety show but he broke down and had to stay backstage.”

You felt tears pricking your eyes as you whispered, “I thought he forgot about me…”

Doyoung shook his head, lifting it so he could smile at you. “Never. He was always telling us stories about things you both did when you were growing up. He felt so guilty when he stopped having time to talk to you, but we were all swamped with our schedules… Even having you here, he’s constantly worrying about you. I do, too…”

“Doyoung…”

“You said you don’t deserve to be happy… I believe everything happens for a reason. Your attempt lead you to me, and I’m determined to show you that you do deserve to be happy. You’re not a burden, you’re a beautiful human being who deserves the world.” He pulled his hand away to rest it on your cheek as he hovered above you. “There’s only one of you in this world, Y/N. And I… I love you.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign of deceit but there was none. You only found sincerity, warmth and, most importantly, love. Your heart was racing in your rib cage.

“You don’t have to feel the same… I wasn’t planning on confessing.” He laughed awkwardly. “Even if you don’t feel the same, I want to remain friends. I know things are probably awkward now but I just felt like I should – ”

“Doyoung,”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

With a smile, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours. For the first time in your life, you wanted to keep living. You finally found the will to fight against the darkness.

He pulled away and you smiled brightly, feeling tears welling up in your eyes again. He wiped away your tears.

“I… I want to live.”

The smile that overtook Doyoung’s face was as bright as the sun. His eyes watered as he threw his arms around you, holding your body tight to his own. Four simple words, but it was enough for both of you.

You were tired of being a victim, enslaved by the darkness of depression. You were tired of feeling like a burden and wanting to die. You wanted to fight, to overcome it and, for the first time in your life, you felt confident that you could.

With Doyoung by your side, you were free to start again.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

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[lovixcore]

nightmares (amedot fic)

One Shot

Summary: After Peridot has her first nightmare, Amethyst comforts her.

Word Count: 2152 words

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655551

Her eyes flew open, as she was merely in a state of panic, unaware of what kinds of emotions had stricken her. She then sat herself up and felt around, attempting to find something to grasp between her as a form of comfort. Cold sweat started breaking out between her forehead and cheeks, down her arms, and brushing against her legs and thighs. It felt like her chest was pounding faster than the speed of light, now visibly shaking and nearly hyperventilating, as she simply could not calm down at all. Her eyes then quickly darted left and right, almost as if she were looking for something, trying to make sure of something. She now felt her eyes stinging, waterfalls of tears scraping against her skin, forming into puddles upon her apparel. It was the middle of the night. The creaking of the house could be heard throughout the bathroom walls. She rose from the bathtub as quickly as she could, wanting to go look for someone.

She couldn’t really think straight, but she knew that she couldn’t be alone right now, she knew she needed to see someone, anyone. She slowly and quietly, almost cautiously, opened the bathroom door, peeking around the corner. Toes first, she moved her foot in front of her, placing it softly on the flooring. Step by step, she tried her best to avoid waking Steven up. She saw a small but plainly visible light, which had appeared to come from the fridge, as it was in fact open and someone was rummaging through it. “Amethyst?” Was what she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She took another step, and then she just stopped, as she stood there, wide-eyed, and completely at a loss for words as she was still trying to comprehend what she had just visualized, still trying to understand that this was reality now.

Amethyst had obviously noticed the emotionally distressed gem standing there and only just staring at her, as she had quietly asked, “...Per?”

Peridot didn’t respond, as she could not physically bring herself to.

“Per?” Amethyst had repeated herself, now growing concerned for the smaller gem, because she was not responding. She slightly tilted her head and then asked, “You okay?” in a cautious tone of voice.

Still no verbal response. Peridot then took a few steps closer to the quartz, feeling around the gem if she was making sure Amethyst was ...real, authentic. She tugged at the neckline of Amethyst’s torso, like she was going to make sure her gem was okay. She then wrapped her smaller arms around the bigger gem, burying her face into her shoulder, as she was now crying again. Amethyst flinched out of surprise and was of coursed confused by all of Peridot’s behavior but she could see how upset and anxious the technician was. In response, she wrapped her arms around the smaller gem, petting her blonde triangular hair, letting the gem quietly sob into her shoulder for a couple of minutes. They then let go of each other. Amethyst took her index finger and wiped the tears off of Peridot’s face in an effort to let her know she was there for her. She lent her hand out to Peridot, and quietly but softly saying into her ear, “C’mon, let’s talk about this in my room.”

Peridot then grabbed onto Amethyst. Amethyst flinched again, surprised at how shaken the poor gem was. She could now feel her cheeks burning, and tried to hide her face behind her bangs, as her blushing was rather embarrassing, but failed to. She then sighed, looking at Peridot with a sad look in her eyes but gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay, Per,” She assured the gem, leading her towards the door to her room.

Upon walking up to the door that led to Amethyst’s room, the door split into two halves, with a wavy line and purple light that had appeared to have a slime-like texture. Entering Amethyst’s room, Peridot kept her grasp around the quartz’s upper arm, inching closer to Amethyst as she examined the room.Even though she had been really close friends with Amethyst for nearly a year now, she had never been inside the quartz’s room. The room was incredibly chaotic. As Amethyst lead Peridot further into the clutter, Peridot tripped over objects that had tumbled down the towers of mess. The room had geodes, and even some grass tiles. She saw the bottom of a waterfall that had appeared to have begun in another gem’s room, possibly Pearl’s, and puddles that looked like they could lead to somewhere else. Although the room was quite disarrayed, it didn’t really bother Peridot, she thought it was unique and thought looked pretty neat regardless of the heaps of organized garbage. She then tightened her hold on the quartz, as Amethyst had led her to a messy pile of pillows and blankets.

Peridot let go of Amethyst, as they had both sat down together on the pile of blankets and pillows. There was a moment of silence between the two, but then Amethyst had broken it by cautiously asking the technician, “So, how are you feeling?” in order to ease her into the conversation.

“I… don’t know,” The technician spoke up in a rather hesitant tone of voice, struggling to make eye contact with Amethyst, who sat across from her. She didn’t want to keep anything from Amethyst, but at the same time she felt kind of hesitant to tell her what she had seen, and she didn’t want to worry her. “All I know is that I am not okay.”

“What..happened?” Amethyst asked her, scooting closer to Peridot. She wanted to know what was wrong. She wanted to know what had upset her that much. She hated seeing Peridot like that, as it simply hurt her to see Peridot, who was usually so bright, upset.

Peridot took a deep breath, and then shut her eyes, hesitant, as she was about to tell Amethyst what had upset her. “So, while reading something on my tablet, I ended up falling asleep ..and then I .. I had a vision,” She began to explain to the quartz, then pausing in order to calm herself down, as she was working herself up again.

Amethyst studied the green gem, who was now visibly shaking and looked as if she was on the verge of tears again. Amethyst took one of Peridot’s hands, which was curled up into a fist, and then held it, reassuringly saying, “Peri it’s okay. I’m here.”

Peridot opened her eyes and gave the quartz a weak and pained but also soft and loving smile, loosening her fingers in Amethyst’s hold. That smile then faded, she now had a sad look in her eyes, continuing by saying, “I.. I had a vision, where the diamonds had come to Earth for the cluster and for Rose Quartz, and.. we ended up fighting them, but then.. I-I watched you get.. shattered. I saw your gem get crushed into smithereens, and it was one of the most horrifying things I have ever witnessed. But, I did wake up before anything else happened though.” Amethyst’s eyes widened out of surprise, shock, horror, her lips parted. “I-I tried to save you, Amethyst.”

“Per-”

“I tried to stop them. I tried to stop them from hurting you, and I-I couldn’t, and I’m sorry.” Peridot cut off the quartz as she blamed herself for Amethyst’s shattering in her version. She opened her eyes, now crying again, great.

All Amethyst had to say to her was “Peridot, you had a nightmare,” now giving the green gem a reassuring and comforting smile.

“..What?” Peridot asked in confusion, she really had no idea what a nightmare was, as she had never personally experienced once and it had never been explained to her before.

“Wait, have you not had a nightmare before?” Amethyst had asked her, coming off harsher than intended.

“No.. I have not. I.. don’t even know what a ‘nightmare’ is,” Peridot sniffled, wiping tears from her face. “What exactly is it?”

“Well, it’s basically like a dream. You know what those are right?” Amethyst had asked her. Peridot shook her head ‘no’ in response. “Huh, I thought Steven woulda told you what those are by now. Well, a dream is basically like a series of thoughts and/or images that occurs in your mind while sleeping. So like, a nightmare is basically a dream, but it’s not really a good one,” Amethyst explained to the rather confused gem as best as she could, hoping she would understand what she was saying.

Peridot stared at the floor with an unreadable look on her face. She slowly raised her head and then looked at Amethyst, narrowing her eyes and quietly asking her, “So.. you’re not shattered?”

“Pft, nope, I’m not shattered,” Amethyst smirked, holding back laughter, as she didn’t want to upset the technician and have her storm off or something like that. The purple gem then enthusiastically patted Peridot on the back, now convinced that Peridot was okay. But the light smile on Peridot’s face did not reach her eyes, as she was still terrified of the images her own mind had created while she was asleep.

“..Amethyst, stop,” The green gem finally spoke up, the light smile on her face had developed into a frown, pushing Amethyst’s hand away from her.

Confused at Peridot’s reaction, Amethyst then tilted her head, the smile on her face disappearing, “But everything’s okay, right?”

Peridot frustratedly shook her head, then burying her face into the palm of one of her hands, “No, you do not even know how terrifying it was for me to see you… shattered.”

Amethyst’s smile had returned, patting Peridot on the back once again, this time more gently, “Aw, Peridot. You know I won’t go down that easily. Y’know, cause I’m a BIG STRONG AMETHYST RAAAAA,” She teased the other gem in a wacky tone of voice, as she made a silly face, wrapping her one of her arms around Peridot’s shoulder and ruffled her hair, which got the green gem to giggle. Peridot then leaned into Amethyst, resting her head on the purple quartz’s shoulder. Amethyst flinched out of surprise, but gave into her, and slowly stroked the green gem’s back, “It’ll be okay, Peri. I don’t plan on shattering. Ever.”

“I was so scared…,” Peridot trailed off, keeping her eyes focused on the pillows and blankets below her. “I was so hurt. Imagine seeing someone you care about, immensely, shattered right in front of you. It’s.. horrifying.”

“It’s okay, Peridot,” Amethyst assured the gem. “I won’t leave you, ever. Promise.”

Peridot smiled up at the quartz, as she was still resting her head on her shoulder. She then affectionately nuzzled her face into Amethyst’s neck, getting a slight blush out of the other gem. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” Peridot said in a short and simple response. “You have been incredibly kind to me these past few weeks, from taking me in after Lapis left to comforting me over that horrendous scene my mind had created. I am so lucky to have you in my life, and I am so thankful for everything you have done for me. Thank you.”

“Aw shucks P-dot, you’re making me blush,” The quartz smiled at her, trying but failing, to hide her face behind her bangs as a darker tone of purple had dusted her cheeks and her little nose. “But, it’s no problem dude. You mean way too much to me for me not to.”

This got Peridot to blush too, as Amethyst was simply adorable when she got flustered, and she gave Amethyst one of the most softest smiles Amethyst had ever seen from her, “Yeah, you mean a lot to me too, Amethyst.”

After a few minutes of silence, as Peridot cuddled the quartz and Amethyst rubbed the smaller gem’s back, Amethyst spoke up,” Hey, you want me to take ya back to the bathroom now and help you get settled in or?” Truthfully, she didn’t want Peridot to leave, but she wanted to do whatever was best and most comfortable for Peridot.

“Do you mind me staying here with you for a bit longer?” Peridot asked her. She gave the quartz a soft smile, tilting her head upwards, her eyes then meeting with Amethyst’s, “...I just feel safer..here with you.”

A clear and visible blush appeared on Amethyst’s face, but she then gave the smaller gem a soft smile, pulling her onto her lap and wrapping her arms around the green gem, saying into her ear, “Of course.” Peridot’s eyes widened, surprised by the affection the other gem had given her, but then she closed her eyes, a wide but loving smile appeared on her face, and reciprocated the cuddle by wrapping her smaller arms around Amethyst, snuggling into her hold.

_________

Notes: I finished writing this and posted it to Wattpad over a month ago.

My main fear with writing this was having Peridot being ooc, although I always fear that I am writing Peridot or any other character that isn't Amethyst ooc. However, with this it's because I don't think Peridot is much of an emotional person, unless something has really upset her, and in this bit, Peridot is really emotional. So, please let me know if you think she is ooc in this, as I do want to improve as a writer and I do want to improve my content.

This took me awhile to write this up, possibly the longest I've ever worked on a fic. I came up with the idea for this back in June, and didn't start working on it until mid to late July, so I spent about two to three weeks on this. I want to thank my friend for helping me write this and proofreading this as I did get stuck a lot, and I really had no idea how to continue it, but she did give me ideas, and I probably would have left this as a wip if weren't for her. Anyways, thank you for reading this, it really means a lot.

#amedot #steven universe #fanfiction #evie writes #perithyst #su #fanfic #fic

[artboitrash]

His Bloody Rose (Stefano Valentini fanfiction) Chapter 31 - Freedom [Last Chapter]

I sat up with a jerk. I gasped aloud, trying to breathe deeply. My body felt stiff, and the water around me felt freezing. Or if it wasn't water, I wasn't sure what it was.

I stared down at what I had assumed was water. It was red, several filaments of dark substance floating around as I stirred it up. I looked around myself, seeing I was laying inside a sort of bathtub. It angled me so I was laying against a sack or red pillow, and kept my head above the water.

I looked down at myself, the clothes I had worn about half a year ago facing up at me. Just a simple, light blue sun dress. It made me almost ill to think that's all I had been wearing for the past several months. My stomach wasn't it's normal flatness, as it had been throughout the time in Union. It was rounded, sticking up out of the red water. Seeing the difference was chilling, like becoming someone else entirely in a split second.

But... It wasn't as far along as I had expected it to be. If it's been at least six months, plus the two I had endured after... He went missing, I would have expected it to look closer to an 8 or 9 month belly. Did my time in Union stunt my baby's growth? Was it my connection to this machine?

When I was able to breathe through my nose, I slid myself out of the dirty water. I slid to the ground as I tried to be careful with myself. I trembled, feeling an aching between my legs. I felt the same soreness I had when walking around Union after I had the wind knocked out of me. I felt the same tiredness that wrought the rest of my body even after I had slept for hours.

I looked down, seeing the dress I had been wearing stained pure red around my hips. I gasped out, beginning to sob. Did I have a miscarriage?

I glanced over at the tub, seeing the bloody filaments cloud the liquid inside. I began sobbing, holding a hand to my stomach. No, please, not my baby. Not the only thing I have, not the last living piece of him left.

I felt a hand resting on my shoulder. I gasped, and turned over, trying to get away. I saw a woman standing over me, a black  leather jacket covering her from. She had a gentle smile on her face, and she watched me carefully.

"Sebastian told me he brought someone out." She said, her purple-looking eyes piercing through me. "I'm Juli Kidman. I'm glad you made it out okay."

"I'm-I'm not o-okay..." I sobbed. "I... I don't have... I was..."

"Shh, don't cry." She leaned down and got on her knees. "It's okay. You were pregnant before coming here, right?"

"Y-yes. My baby... I didn't know until after I..."

"Can you walk?"

She stood, pulling me up by my hand. I took a few steps, placing a hand to my stomach, aching to feel the heartbeat I had in a dream.

"You didn't lose the baby." she said quietly.

I glanced up, seeing Sebastian, holding Lily. The now awake and older-looking child was wearing a pink shirt and blue jeans. Sebastian's face wasn't covered in blood or dirt, but the rest of him looked about the same - minus the ensemble of guns and deadly weapons on his back.

I held onto my head, still feeling the aftermath of waking from what felt like a coma affecting me. "Then... What... Happened to them?"

Juli smiled a little more, a little weakly. "Your vitals spiked while you were connected to the machine. After a bit, you went into labor. On top of everything that was happening with STEM, your body went into meltdown."

She turned, guiding me by my hand down several hallways, still speaking. I tried to ignore several groups of bodies laying on the ground. Some looked to have gunshots in their heads and throughout their bodies. I tried not to think about what had happened to these people, to what had happened when they died. It didn't look pleasant, most looking like they had reached for their heads or faces in their death.

"Thankfully, the medical team became distracted before they could prepare to kill Sebastian. Because of your medical emergency, you ended up saving us a larger time crunch."

She stopped in front of a room, and I stopped too. She let go of my hand, turning to look at me.

"He was a little underweight, and seemed a little premature... But he survived. They managed to help you give birth while you were still connected to STEM. Since you still had brain activity, they kept the baby here, on life support, and cared for it in case you woke up. It's been less than 24 hours since he was born, and from what I last heard he was healthy and becoming stronger each day."

Juli stepped back, leaving me facing the door.

"If you need me, just shout. These hallways echo much more than you would think. There are some forms filled out in there from when he was born, but he still doesn't have a name. I hope you two are happy."

I nodded. "Th-thank you... Thank you..."

"You don't need to thank me, miss Olian. Just be a good mother. Raise him right."

I watched her disappear around the corner. Her last sentence reverberated around in my head. I swallowed down a lump in my throat. I tried not to think what he would look like, worried he would remind me too much of his father.

I wondered if I had felt it. I wondered if my encounter with Theodore Wallace is what caused me to go into labor. If when my breath was knocked from me is what triggered my body to go into panic mode.

I turned back to the door. It's a he. I had given birth to a baby boy.

What would I tell him about his father when he begins to grow up? How will I even support him? I was a broke college student living alone, never held a job before college, and I don't even have a real resumé that I can use in the real world. My first "real" job had been as a florist and painter on the side in Union, in a world meant to be perfect for everyone in it

I swallowed the lump again. I tried to calm myself, barely managing to move my body. I lifted a hand, and grabbed the door handle. At first with a tug, it wouldn't come open. That didn't help my anxiety.

I tugged it again, and with some relief it swung open.

Once I had it open, I heard something that chilled my bones. Someone was... Singing. I felt panic, remembering the nightmare I had encountered with the mirror appartment, the mirror Ryan.

But, no, the voice sounded different. It wasn't singing in the "la, la, la" that the creature had been singing, but I wasn't certain it wasn't nonsense. I thought it was familiar, but I couldn't be sure. Had I heard this voice singing before.

"--darò alla Befana," I could hear the voice singing. "Che lo tiene una settimana..."

I stepped into the room, seeing a tall man standing with his back to me. The small room had a baby life support machine hooked up to the wall, open and empty from what I could see. The lights were dimmed, but I could make out that the man was wearing a white dress shirt and black suit pants. His arms were raised in front of him, and his head was turned down, moving back and forth.

I swallowed a shout. He has my baby... was all I could think.

"Lo darò all’Uomo Nero," he continued his song. It seemed the man hadn't noticed me yet. "Che lo tiene un anno intero, Lo darò all’Uomo Bianco, Che le tiene finché è stanco..."

I took in other details, such as four men laying in the room. All of them had gunshots in their heads, and I realized these people hadn't died along with the rest of the people working here. They must have died several hours earlier; they looked more stiff and pale than the ones had passed in the hallway. I glanced around the room, trying to find something, anything, to stand up against him with.

"Lo darò al Saggio Folletto, Che lo renda Uomo perfetto!"

The room fell silent, and I realized his song had finished. He was still moving side to side, seemingly rocking the child in his arms.

A gun with a silencer on it was sitting on a table next to me, the small black pistol catching my eye. As quietly as I could, I reached over and picked it up. I looked it over briefly, trying to see if I knew how to use it. I knew it was more than point and shoot, but I wasn't sure other than that.

Hopefully, just having it in hand would be able to scare him away.

Of course, of all things to happen, someone had to try and take my baby. Well, I suppose I don't have any evidence they're trying to steal my baby, but I still don't want them handling my child.

He started humming again, and it made me hesitate. I realized I recognized the tune after a moment, it sounded like a classical song that had been ingrained in me. I couldn't quite remember where I had heard it, sure it had to have been played at least a hundred times for me to recognize like this.

I shook my head, clearing it of the thoughts I was having. This man has my child, and I can't afford to let myself get distracted. I lifted the gun, trying to train it on their head, ignoring the slight tremble in my hand.

"Put the child back in the machine, right now." I said as firmly as I could. "Put them back down, safely, and get away from him right now."

The man didn't answer, tensing up as my voice interrupted him. He didn't move, though, freezing as still as a statue as I spoke.

"Put. The Child. Back in the life support machine." I said, trying to make myself sound aggressive and angry. "He... He's my son, and I will not hesitate to shoot you."

His head lifted slightly, and I saw it turn just slightly at me. "I recommend putting down the gun, unless you want to hurt both our child and me. He's my son, too."

He turned around slowly, and I saw the telltale bangs that hid one eye, now disheveled and ragged, and a familiar face smiling at me. I could almost feel my heart stop as I looked at him. The gun lowered in my grasp, and I stared, feeling my body beginning to tremble

"S... Stefano...?"

He closed his eye and chuckled a bit. "Yes, my Rose. It is me, I am here."

The gun slipped from my hand and landed harshly on the floor. Stefano flinched at the sound, initially stepping away. When there wasn't another sound, he smiled again, and gestured for me to come closer.

I jerked forward, feeling vertigo and confusion. I reached for him, grabbing onto his waist and pulling myself to him.

"Gentle, bella, gentle. There is something wonderfully fragile in my arms."

I nodded as I wrapped my arms around him, feeling an arm unwrap from the baby and gently held me back. I looked up at him first, staring at my Stefano's face. He smiled at me, and leaned forward, pressing his lips against my head again.

I looked down at the small bundle in Stefano's arms. I swallowed, seeing a pink face peaking out at me in an off-white bundled cloth. His eyes were wide and open. They looked bright and a faded green-grey, just like his father. He looked at me, blinking at me, and smiled just slightly. I smiled back, lifting a hand away from Stefano and reaching a finger to him. He took my finger, gently putting it to his mouth and sucking on it.

"He's so... Precious..." I muttered.

"Yes. Yes, he is..." Stefano leaned down, pressing his face in my hair.

He lifted his hand, dragging it through my hair. I took the baby in my arms, feeling his weight for the first time. Looking at him in my arms, so fragile, so delicate.

"I thought you were gone, my love..."

I looked up at him again. His eye was studying me. He looked... Oddly remorseful, eyebrow lifted as a sad look crossed his face as well. I'd never seen a look like that on his face.

"When I read the documents, I thought you had passed away when he was born." He rubbed a hand on his neck, looking away from me. "I thought you had passed because they wanted to disconnect you from the system, from what I now know was a computer. They would take away a child from his mother without noticing whether or not she survived..."

I smiled gently at him. "Well, we're here now."

"Yes, you are."

I leaned my head against him as he massaged his shoulders. I wondered how long he had been holding our child. Our child. I smiled even more, looking back down and seeing him looking at both of us.

"How did you survive?" I asked.

"... I'm not quite sure. Once I was sure you were there with me, I remember..." He sighed, pressing himself against me. "Not much. I remember the Core appearing before me. I remember her crying as she watched me, like she was sad I was dying. Once she turned and disappeared, I felt something different. I saw light from behind my eyelids, and I woke in one of those baths."

I felt him shake his head, pressing a hand into my hair and brushing it through the strands delicately. His arm wrapped around my waist, gently locking me to him just over my stomach.

"I didn't think I survived. I thought that was just hell, or the afterlife, whichever it was I was in. It took me a long time to realize I wasn't dead."

He paused for a moment, and I felt the arm tense around my stomach. I hummed quietly, letting him recollect his thoughts.

"To be fair, I wasn't certain which to believe, that I had been in that tub for six to eight months, and that Union had all been a fever dream within a nightmare of a child within a computer program... Or that I was dead and I had to watch your body for several hours from the shadows as I listened to you screaming while giving birth in your sleep."

"You were there?"

"Hidden." He sighed. "But there. Your screaming is what drew them to you, I think."

I remembered the mental anguish, as though I could have heard my own screaming if I hadn't bit my tongue and lips as hard as I did.

"It drew me to your side at first, but I had to hide once they came. They noticed I had disconnected, some sort of alarm going off for a while. They were looking for me, but only said a number to each other instead of a name. I knew they would kill me, if I had been caught. Once everything calmed down, I watched them leave you."

"Did you..." I hesitantly asked. "Did you grab my hand? Or hold my hand after that?"

He sighed, lowering his hand from my head. "Yes, I did. I spoke to you, trying to promise you that I would stay with our child until you woke up. Until I knew you had survived..."

He shook his head slightly, and let go of me. I turned around as he backed away, eye closed, and looking away from me.

"My bloody Rose..." he muttered, a slight smile crossing his face. "So poetic, no? Because of the flowers I use in my art, because of the woman I love. But also because the most blood I've ever seen her in is when she gave birth to a new life, a new beautiful creation brought into the world."

I giggled. I stepped closer to him, but he stepped back. He wouldn't meet my gaze now, refusing to look at me. I cocked my head slightly, trying to catch his eye and make him look at me again.

"Stefano...? Why are you...?"

He turned away, towards the door behind me. "Well... To be fair, I'm not certain how to say goodbye properly."

"'Goodbye'?"

His eye flickered over me. "You were so happy to tell me you were pregnant. You didn't want to tell me unless you had to. I can only assume you did not..."

I frowned as he turned to walk away. I reached out instantly as he began to try and exit through the door. He tried to pull his hand out of my grasp, but I held on tightly to him.

"You don't get to be a drama queen and leave me with a newborn baby that easily." I said, my voice tensing.

His brow arched as it raised on his face. "Even after all I've done to you? After what you saw me become?"

I shook my head, yanking him violently back into the room. He followed, and I reached up for him. I put my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to me. In his surprise, he didn't fight back. I closed my eyes and kissed his cheek.

"I just saw a woman say her last farewell to her husband just after they had met up after what seemed to be years apart. I watched her say goodbye, a very, very similar goodbye you had given me before deciding to try and kill yourself at the hands of someone else. I watched her apologize and say goodbye to her husband knowing she was about to die, and was never able to say goodbye to her child because she was asleep."

I took a breath, looking into Stefano's eye as he watched me.

"I'm not gonna watch another family be torn apart just because of your opinions of yourself. I'm also not gonna let you just bail on your son and leave him without a father. I didn't want to hide the fact I was pregnant from you, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't get through to you when you were in that brainwashed state. You will stay your sorry butt right here with me, you dumbass."

His eye widened, completely taken aback from what I said. After a while, a smile branched across his face. He leaned down, pressing his lips against mine. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, being aware of the bundle of joy in my arms.

"I missed you, my muse." he whispered as he pulled away.

My eyes fluttered open, taking in his face as he watched me. "I missed you more than you could know."

He pressed his lips against my forehead. "Good. I'll stay. I'll be here for you both."

"You fuckin better." I muttered as I tucked my head into his collarbone.

"What do you want to call him?"

I glanced up, seeing him looking down at our child again. He looked so hopeful, as though I could see his eyes nearly being overtaken by tears. I smiled, leaning my head against my love once more.

"I honestly thought I would give birth to a girl. Everyone in my family seems to have girls, and I come from a long, five-generation line of women."

"Ah, so you only have thought of girls' names." He chuckled, and the familiar vibration made me smile as he held me. "Do you mind if I interject my idea?"

"Feel free."

He gestured to some of the papers on the table. "Because I thought you would not come back, I signed his birth certificate. It's in graphite, so we can erase it."

I giggled, then laughed aloud. "You signed the certificate in pencil?"

"In hopes you would come and correct me." He sighed, waving his hand dramatically, his smile not fading anymore. "But I named him Giuseppe."

"Ji... Zep...?"

"Giuseppe." he corrected me with a laugh. "It's an Italian name, my dear. I always wanted to use it for my child, if I were to have a son."

I smiled, tucking my head against his shoulder. "Well, it's rather late to say it, but welcome to the world, Giuseppe."

I felt his smile spread on my head as he leaned down, pressing his lips against me.

"I love you, Rose... I love you, and I want to make up what I've done."

"I'll be patient." I smiled, allowing myself to feel safe once again. "I love you, and I want to stand with you while you grow.”

"Ti amo, bella mia..." He whispered. "I always, always will."

#Stefano Valentini #The Evil Within 2 #the evil within stefano #stefano valentini fanfiction #stefano #tew #tew2 #tew2 stefano #His Bloody Rose #Chapter 31 #Freedom #Final #Chapter #I don't think I'm going to post any more on Tumblr #I'll still post pictures and reblog #But I think this story is done on Tumblr #I might continue it on AO3 though #I had fun with this #I hope you enjoyed it!

[craftygoateeprincess]

ITinktober Day 6: Heal

A/N: trigger warning for mentions of rape, not nearly as bad as Knife though, i promise

(Pounding)

Your feet were pounding on the ground, desperate heavy thumps that jolted your sore legs with every hit. But you couldn’t stop, you needed to run, as fast and as far away as you could. Already your mind was blotting out just what it was that had happened, but you knew, deep in your chest you knew exactly what had been done to you and that you needed to get away. But home wasn’t an option, there would only be more danger there, and so your fear forced you to go the one place you really ought to never step foot in again.

29 Neibolt Street

But if there was anywhere in the world you might be able to be safe, it was there. Ignoring the near-supernatural episode you had experienced when last in its walls, no one but you and penny ever dared to go there, you would be safe from the monster, safe from the terror and if the house turned against you once more, you could simply throw yourself down the well and end your misery. After all, nothing but chance kept you in derry anymore, you had long given up hope on Pennywise keeping his promise, o human being slept for eight years, no one could survive that long without food, it just wasn’t logical.

You were ignoring the whispering of your mind insisting maybe he wasn’t a logical being.

Then like the sunrise after a storm (and even more welcome than that) Neibolt house was on the hill and before you could think or stop yourself you were running up the steps and slamming the door behind you like a hurricane, for the first time ever engaging what few lockable mechanisms were available and just praying no one would find you now. Falling back against the door you sucked in the moldy air like it was a god-given gift, and it was. Because as the seconds turned to minutes and your body recovered from the trauma of having run miles across town to get here in such a short timespan you realized how ruthlessly you’d pushed yourself and how reckless it had been, but you weren’t safe at home and you were here, that was all that mattered.

At least, you were safe for the moment.

You still remembered how the house had hummed with life that fateful evening, how you had all but heard penny’s voice in your head urging you to open your eyes and look because he had come back for you. The house still hummed with that familiar force, supernatural or your imagination, and so you had to be careful, even if it was all in your head...your sanity wasn’t in the best place to be messed with right now.

Pulling yourself off the floor you did the only thing you could think of at that moment and sought out the shower, dully taking step after step until you managed to climb them, feeling more like a walking, injured corpse than entirely human. But then again, it was fitting for the place you found yourself in, as an adult you could feel it more keenly than you ever had as a child.

Nothing here was truly alive.

You knew that the water had long since been shut off here, that didn’t stop you from groaning out in frustration all the same when the handle squeaked and turned with no result. Fisting your hair in clumps you banged your head on the wall and were honestly disappointed when it failed to knock you out. A small, tempting little voice told you if you were persistent enough you could….but you weren’t quite that desperate yet. Instead dug through the cabinets hoping for some wet wipes, even though you knew anything of value would have been looted long ago.

So imagine your surprise when you turned to the sink and saw a pack of them sitting right there.

You should have taken that sign as ominous. Should have chucked the wipes at the wall and bolted from the house like a bat out of hell. But you were a cornered animal, and whatever presence hummed within this house clearly knew that, and was relishing in both caring and taunting for you. So without warning, you tore off your clothes like they burned you, grabbed the wipes, and crawled into the empty tub.

You sat on the floor of the shower your scalding skin became ice cold and your chest was sore from sobbing. Your skin was red and raw from repeated scrubbing over the last few hours, you’d managed to use up the entire goddamned pack. No matter what you did, you never got clean. Your skin always itched with a ghostly touch. You jumped, every time the house settled. You shivered your body into exhaustion. Every shadow set your heart off like a gun. You prayed to every god, begged the universe for forgiveness, screamed and cried to go back and change that night.

And yet, you didn’t even know what it is you wanted to change.

You remember getting home late, school finals had come and gone and you had gone out to celebrate with some friends. Underage drinking wasn’t the best way to ‘move on’ with your life but you’d just been trying to recapture that joy you’d once known, that spark of being in love with life in general when you were with Penny, and you were getting increasingly reckless in your attempts to do so. 

You had your moments when you convinced yourself you were okay. That was when you managed to feed the turtle and water the plants and get the mail. Even then, your eyes were swollen and

(red)

bloodshot, and your back was sore from the tension, and your shoulders slumped from carrying the weight of the memories of times long gone when you knew a bliss that no alcohol or drug could give you. The taste of powdered sugar and lemonade and those rides at the circus that spin you so fast your head hurts and you can’t see straight.

Those were the good memories, the memories you were trying to replace because the only one who could give you more of their kind had long forgotten you. But instead, you only had bad memories to replace them, strangers and parties and dangerous stunts all trying to recapture how you felt. But suddenly those memories didn’t seem so bad compared to the ones crowding your head. The taste of your own blood.

The red.

Blood stuck to your thighs and trickled out from your most private parts. Bruises of a sickly blue and yellow dotting your beleaguered body, bite marks, scratches on your hip, thighs, and back. You looked like a wild animal had done you in.

And then you saw and smelled an awful white substance trickle out from you and it finally hit you that you’d been defiled.

You jerked into a sitting position and grabbed the moldy old towel hanging nearby without a thought, just wanting to be dry and warm. The droplets on your skin made you feel so cold, not only on top of your skin, but the kind of inside cold where your heart races and your muscles freeze up and your lungs pull in shallow breaths and shove them out in pieces. It was just water, but what if it was blood? It had been blood, when…

When he…

When you…

You shoved the heels of your palms against your eyes and screamed.

Why wasn’t anyone coming to help you? Couldn’t the neighbors hear you screaming? You were crumbling inside, like an ancient tomb in which your childhood was laid to rest, peaceful in its non-disturbance, now collapsing from having been robbed. Why couldn’t anyone hear the pillars cracking?

You screamed and screamed and screamed until your throat was raw and your voice raspy, and then you screamed his name.

“Pennywise! Pennywise, please! Pennywise!”

You needed him. That had never been in doubt. You waited patiently for eight years for him to make good on his promise. Eight years went by with no word, just abuse and loneliness and bitter hope. Then you’d tried losing yourself in your memories only to realize how unhealthy it was, and so you’d tried to leave, even when you’d felt him practically calling for you, you’d turned back and left.

So you were prepared for him to do the same to you now, instead, you felt the world shift, like watching yourself fade into a dream in real-time. This feeling was not unfamiliar to you, when you got home, dad had offered you a drink that made you feel the same way had he not?

When you opened your eyes, you were no longer naked in your bathtub. You were sitting on a rotting wooden floor in a white nightgown. Light filtered through dust from a mostly boarded up window. The room was empty except for a broken armchair that had once been forest green, perhaps but was now faded and grayish. You got to your feet, lightheaded but present.

“Where am I?” you choked out.

“You’ve been here before,” he growled. His voice came from all around you and inside you.

When I was six, you thought. We came here to play. We played hide and seek. My parents were looking for me. “Neibolt Street.”

“Neibolt Street,” he agreed, but this time his voice came from right behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling panic rise like vomit in your throat. “Why?” you whimpered.

You felt him move to your side, circling you like prey. “Why what?”

“You abandoned me,”

That word (the alternative – the truth of what he had done to you) seemed to surprise you both, as you felt your heavy heart drop low in your ribcage, and his eyes lit up like fire.

“You know that’s what you did,” your voice cracked, “right?”

“Yes,” he said, but with an airy quality that suggested he hadn’t actually thought about it that way or thought about it at all. He turned to face you head-on and leaned his forehead against the top of your head. You held your breath as he traced the fingertips of his gloves over your collarbone and his voice slipped into a deep growl. “You used to be so soft. So innocent. But not anymore.” He tilted his head in questioning. “Why?”

“Life,” you breathed. “I grew up.”

Pennywise snatched the fabric around your hips into tight fists and screamed in your face, “You are mine! The world should have known; you have always been mine to destroy.”

Your breath hitched when he pulled your body into his, leaving little rips in your gown from pulling so hard. Your hands landed on his chest and you gazed up into his red eyes, feeling smaller than a speck of dust. “Please-”

“Please,” Pennywise laughed back at you. “Please, please, please!”

A part of you froze at his mocking, thats what you'd said, before, in the bathtub when you'd been clawing your own skin so desperately, and now, now you seemed to become aware that this dream he had you in, was in fact, a dream.

"Penny why are you here?" Whatever spell of maliciousness had possessed him seemed to vanish as his eyes focused on you once more

“You were always an insolent child,” he said, pacing in front of you like a caged tiger. “Innocent and insolent, and you were mine.”

You shimmied your way over to the armchair and pulled yourself up, keeping your eyes trained on Pennywise, watching and waiting for any sign he was about to strike. But his movements were slow. Serpentine. He slithered towards you, and you shrank back into the chair, trying against all hope to disappear.

“I was, but then you left me, it’s been eight years Pennywise, what did you expect? That I could wait in childhood bliss for you forever?”

On the side of your uninjured wrist, your fingers dug into the moldy arms of the faded armchair as Pennywise’s hands snaked over your knees. He leaned his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh (your first clue this was all a dream, your thigh was as clean and clear as ever).

“Tell me, Ellie: Did you ever think of me?” He nuzzled into the soft, pliant flesh, and you bit your lip to distract from the heat that bloomed wherever his skin made contact with yours. “Did you ever think of your old friend Pennywise, when you were a young woman, learning just what you could do to yourself?” He laid his head comfortably in your lap and glanced up with just his eyes. They were gold, rimmed with red, playful but wild. They met yours with a frightening intensity that made your heart seize in your ribcage. “I thought of you.” His grip on your thighs tightened. “I used to think of all the ways I could make you scream.”

It was a strange question, you had certainly thought about him a lot. The clown who had been your light. Womanhood came with its shames and embarrassments and…..hormones, but you had been saving yourself for someone special.

Well, you had been before…..

“I was waiting…”

For me? How thoughtful, i’m flattered truly,” you didn’t know what it was you were going to say, maybe it was him. But even if it wasn’t, and even if this was just a dream, it felt too real for you to contradict the creature settled between your legs 

(the stranger wearing a beloved friends face)

“All the ways I could break you,” Pennywise continued as he inched farther up your thighs. Any of the lilting playfulness that usually colored his voice was gone, replaced by a sharp rasp. “All the ways I could claim you. All the ways I could make sure no one else ever laid their filthy hands on you.”

But then as his hands snaked dangerously close to your core he stopped, even though in the dream you were clean and unblemished, it was like he knew the scarred and broken mess you were in reality.

"Why are you scared Ellie? Its just ol Pennywise, i've never hurt you," his tone was soft, playful, but beneath it all was the tenderness you remembered abd it brought out the old vulnerability in you that you had fought to keep so buried as you instinctively reached for him as tears gathered in your eyes.

"He raped me Penny, I don't know what to do," it was the first time you said the words, the first time you acknowledged what had been done, and whatever malicious intent he'd had seeped out of him, replaced only with a barely contained rage, and beyond that, the old concern, like when you had come back from school with skinned knees because you had been pushed on the playground.

"Then let me heal you, close your eyes for me alright?" His words were quiet, gentle, they lulled you as you felt yourself nodding as fingers clutches weakly at the silk of his suit.

"Hold me?" you asked weakly and he nodded, crawling up to cage your small trembling form in his larger one as your eyes fluttered close, it was silent for a time and then you felt a warmth encasing your entire being, your organs, your muscles, your very soul. And every injury, every bad memory, everything not good and right and healthy was washed away in the healing light you could feel rather than see. His voice came from inside your head. “You are beautiful.”

And for that brief moment, come hell or high water, you loved each other again. Because you found him beautiful too.

You gasped, unable to say anything, unable even to begin.

He withdrew and you collapsed back into the chair, gasping for breath, feeling open and exposed but safe. Safe in a beautiful dream with the creature you had always loved. First in that innocent, childlike adoration, for the man who saved you. But now you loved him as a woman, wanted him like a woman. Not just because he was your light, but because he was so much more.

But for now you rested, in the glow of what you still didn't know to be deadlights, and you healed.

When the wave subsided, you were cold, wet, raw, on the floor of the shower. But your wrist wasn’t broken and your mind was clearer and you remembered everything, just how wrong what had occurred before had been.

You had been defiled, by the one person who ought to keep you safe. After several minutes, you finally found the strength to sit up. You carefully pushed yourself up and wrapped a towel around your body. Every wrong movement sent a spike of pain up your tender and weak body, but you gritted your teeth and bared it. You needed to get dressed and call a cab to take you to the emergency room.

You slowly made your way into your bedroom. There, laid intentionally on the bed, was the white nightgown you were wearing in your…vision? Hallucination? Next to it was a note written in red crayon.

“I’ll see you again soon. Your friend, Pennywise.”

#slashers #itinktober #inktober2019 #inktober