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#shutting them down and avoiding them entirely will not only make it worse
w1ng3dw01f · 1 month
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Fellas, fellas
Why on earth are you BUYING PHYSICAL BOOKBOUND COPIES OF FANFICTION????
ACTUALLY WHY ARE YOU EVEN BOOKBINDING FANFICTION TO SELL?!?!?!
IF ANY OF YOU DO EITHER OF THESE THINGS, GET OUT!! I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN.
In all seriousness though, authors on AO3 have begun to pull their works off of the site to avoid getting sued by people stealing their works to make a pretty bound book for profit. Entire accounts could be shut down as well.
Listen, I’m all for saving favorite works by printing them out and putting them in a binder, or learning how to make a bookbound copy yourself and/or assembling one with a pre-made and purchased fancy binding for a fanfic FOR YOURSELF or AS A GIFT to someone, but making bindings with and putting fanfiction in it TO SELL is where I draw the line.
Literally the entire point of AO3 is that you can read it FOR FREE.
It is DISRESPECTFUL for people to make money off of hardbound copies because guess what, the original creators of these fics get nothing. We are literally only writing fanfiction for our own pleasure.
Buying and selling book-bound fanfiction is also ILLEGAL YOU DUMB SHITS. People who are selling content while claiming to be a book binder is a misconception of their services. Book binders make the covers and all that, not the actual content of the book. Selling fanfiction is also an immediate violation of copyright law / Creative Commons licenses. The original fan work will get erased from the internet.
Fanfiction is already a legal grey zone since they are works being written about are protected by copyright. Copyright holders can in fact go after writers as well as the person who sold the fanfiction.
This also goes for people who steal fanart and, claim it as theirs, and put a price on it.
Don’t make it worse.
rest assured, we can still write our fanfics and make our art.
Buying a binding for you to assemble onto your own fanfiction or fanfiction you printed for PERSONAL USE is fine.
HOWEVER,
Bookbinding fanfiction for profit is literally ruining things for everyone. DON’T.
If I see any of them on Etsy, I swear to god-
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phas3d · 3 months
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Comforting You | Slytherin Boys
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masterlist!
type :: angst, comfort
tw/cw :: death (draco), eating + passing out (mattheo), depression + eating (theodore), bullying + panic attack (lorenzo)
members :: draco, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo
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Draco (acts of service / gift giving)
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Teasing you was Draco's full time job, no matter the time, day, or place. You knew this very well and got used to it over time
But during flying class, you lost your special necklace. Many people didn't understand your frantic state and ignored you as you flew to the ground to search for it
It was the necklace your best friend gave you in elementary school. It was the only remaining item you had of them after they died.
As you searched the ground, Draco made fun of you and called you dramatic, materialistic, and more insults. But your already overwhelmed mind from losing your necklace and the degrading comments led you to cry as you continued to search.
"You flew around the entire area and river, only to notice NOW that your necklace is missing? You idiot, it's probably in the river or some animal stole it." Draco said as he scoffed at you as you continued to crawl on the floor and search every crevice for the necklace.
There is no voice of reason in Draco's head, so he instinctively kicked you, making you fall onto your side. He was about to laugh and call you pathetic, but he saw the tears stream down your face. Everything was too overwhelming as you reminisced about your past best friend and the negative comments Draco kept stating.
He panicked at the sight of your tears, instantly shutting his mouth. He pulled you up so that you would stand, making strong eye contact with you which you avoided like the plague.
"(Y/N)? What's wrong??? I'll buy you a new necklace!" He says in a desperate attempt to comfort you. "It's okay! You'll get a new one-"
"I don't want a new one!" You said firmly, as you got out of his grip and searched once again. Draco wasn't dumb, he knew the necklace must have had some significance to you.
He sighed, hating how you made him do thing he never thought he'd do. With a wave of his wand and a few words, every piece of metal within the area came flying towards him.
You stood up, searching through the floating pieces of random metal until you found your necklace and smiled widely. The second you saw it, you instantly put it back on as Draco put all of the random metals back to their original spot.
He walked up to you and pinched his robe, grabbing a clean spot as he gently wiped your tears. Your smile instantly made him smile, but he was glad you couldn't see it since you were still staring at your necklace.
Mattheo (words of affirmation + praise)
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You stayed up all night for almost a week straight just to study for the finals coming up
It was genuinely one of the worse weeks of your life. You skipped hanging out with friends, kept forgetting to eat, and even passed out while studying multiple times
It got to the point that even teachers reached out to you to remind you to take care of yourself first, but you didn’t listen
The exam came and you thought you did well, until you saw the C- on your exams over and over and over again
You didn’t want to be a brat, technically you passed, but you wasted a whole week just to barely pass. You felt so stupid and felt like all your efforts was wasted
All you did for a whole day was cry in your bed, skipping all of your classes. You thought no one would notice, but of course Mattheo did
“(Y/N)?!” Matt shouted through the door, “Why are you skipping class? What happened to the A+ student?”
Although he said it jokingly, that hurt you deeply. He’s right, what did happen to the straight A+ student you were? Before you could think deeper, Matt slams the door open to see you crying in your bed. He sees you try to hide under your blankets but he could hear the sobs you were trying to muffle.
“Oh shit, my bad” Matt mumbles as he gets closer to you. He plops himself onto your bed. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
You shake your head and avoid eye contact. If you told him you were crying over a C, he would definitely call you a nerd. But, he could already tell due to the open texts books that scattered your floors and hidden but bright red mark.
He held up the test that you despised and gave a puzzled look at the test. "God, I don't know how you do it. This is amazing!" He says with a small smile.
"You took all advance classes this year and passed every single one! That's fucking awesome!" He says as you frown, "Well, I know YOU don't think it's awesome, but I do."
He could tell his words weren't getting to you, "Listen," he says as he grabs your face to look at him in the eyes.
"These stupid test grades?" He says holding up some papers, "They won't matter in 5 years, fuck it even 3 years! This tiny stupid letter that Snape wrote with a shit pen won't matter. You're SO smart! Think about it! There's like 1,000 kids here and I bet 50%, no 75%, wouldn't know anything on this paper!"
You turned your head smiled weakly at his comforting words, but you still felt guilty for working so hard and getting such a low score. But from the two seconds you looked away, Matt was already burning the papers with his wand, filling the room with a scent of smoke.
He smiled at you while you were in shock. "It's just a letter! Don't let the lamest letter in the alphabet ruin your weak." He says as he set the rest of your tests aflame.
Theodore (acts of services omg)
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You were having a really rough few weeks, almost a month
Although Hogwarts was amazing and you made friends that are 10 times better than your family, you couldn’t help but reflect on your past
Everything you’ve regretted, every single mean comment you’ve been told, every mistake you’ve made, all of it was rushing back in your head for an unknown reason
Normally, when this happens you journal, go on a walk, or vent to someone but for some reason your brain just didn’t want to do any of those beside mellow in your awful thoughts
You skipped 80% of your classes for this week, so far no one has noticed or checked up on you which made you feel worse. Everyone except Theo
There was a light knock at your door while you stare at your ceiling. You knew that you should probably get the door, but you felt so numb throughout your whole body that you couldn’t get up, as if you were paralyzed.
“(Y/N)? I’m coming in okay?” You hear Theo’s voice and instantly recognize it. He waits about 5 seconds, to make sure you approve of this and give you time to fix anything you need. But your body was limp, as if it wasn’t in your control.
Your vision was so messed up that when Theo hovered above you, you didn’t notice him at first. Without looking at yourself, you could tell you popped a vein in your eye.
Theo was a quiet guy, he liked his actions to speak louder than his words. You heard the ruffle of a chip bag, a glass of liquid, and a bowl be set down on your bedside table. You wish you could look at the flavors of the chips, what drink he got you, and what’s in the bowl, but even moving your head felt tiring.
From your dissociated stare and limp body, he knew he needed to help you in some way. He gently slid his hands under your back and propped you up on the bed to be sitting. He opened the chip bag and scooped up some soup from the bowl.
“Ahh,” he said while opening his mouth. Automatically, you copied him and he fed you slowly, scoop by scoop.
The rest of the day was spent with Theo caring for you in some way possible to help make your situation better. He fed you dinner and medicine, picked out shows to watch, and even used magic to help you change out of your old clothes.
Although he didn’t speak much to you beside small actions and quiet reassurances, such as “it’s okay” or “take your time”, you still so comforted and loved. He knew what you needed exactly, which was slightly scary but it worked for your benefit.
He didn’t expect you to feel better instantly, and if he had to do this for multiple days or weeks, he wouldn’t mind at all. He was patient and gentle, despite his scary demeanor. But of course, he doesn’t want people to know this in order to keep up the stoic bad-boy look he had. Only you get to know.
Lorenzo (im delusional so i he gets all of them)
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You always felt anxious when it came to school due to your past history of getting bullied. But you overcame it slowly, until you saw your old bully being introduced to the whole class.
Instantly, you could feel the blood leave your brain as your legs began to shake on their own. Your bully was just here for a day in order to advertise something that their school was doing, but you didn't listen.
Luckily, you got the teacher's attention and they saw the tears in your eyes, instantly dismissing you to the bathroom.
While in the bathroom, you broke down and could feel every negative memory you've had rush back to your head. Your vision blurred and you could feel your lungs breathe at a rapid rate.
You were glad to be alone during this, so that no one would question you about it. But Lorenzo saw and instantly asked the teacher to go check up on you.
You left the bathroom after the bell rung, meaning you wouldn't have to see your bully once again. You finally felt ready to face the world once again after a pretty heavy breakdown. But, you instantly felt tears rise up once you made eye contact with Lorenzo. He was waiting patiently outside of the bathroom for however long he’s been there.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, causing the tears to instantly come back.
Although you always did your best to act tough, Lorenzo was the one thing that made you break. Everything about him was so comforting; his scent, voice, touch, all of it.
Once he sees your eyes water and the tears roll down your cheek, he instantly hugs you, gently rubbing his hand on your back to comfort. You could feel your tears get sucked into his robe, but he didn’t care at all. He didn’t move until you were ready to, he’s always been your number one comfort.
The second you move and feel your tears stop, he pats your back and stays silent for a moment to think of what to say. Despite being sarcastic and witty, he knew exactly what to say during hard times which was surprising to you.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I don't know what happened but I'm going to assume you don't like that person, and if you don't like them then I don't like them either! Fuck them!" He said, instantly showing how much support you had.
"But, if you ever want to rant or vent, I’m always here.” He says with a soft smile, “I'll do whatever you need to feel comfortable. Walk you to class, cuss them out, fuck it I'll even hide in the girls bathroom with you!”
You smile lightly at his offers but shake your head. Seeing your smile makes him happy instantly as well. He stays with you in the halls to skip class, you’re 100 times more important than any class he’s ever been in.
The next day, your bully was gone and was back in their school. Even though you were completely over the situation , he still wanted to make you happy in some way. He believes that for every sad moment you've had, you just need at least two happy moments to overtake that sad moment. So, the next day he brought you some cookies along with a small deer keychain that he got at the store.
This man will do everything in his power to make you twice as happy, no matter what it takes.
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radiance1 · 2 months
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Vlad opened his eyes expecting to look up at his cieling.
The pair of eyes staring straight into his own was not what he wanted to see.
"I need you to make a clone of me." Danny, ever the grain of salt in a pile of sugar, said with all the tact of something who didn't just break into a man's room.
Vlad squinted up at him and scowled. "Hello to you as well, Daniel. Not even a good morning?" He groaned, reaching a hand up to massage his temple to try and offset the headache he could feel settling in. "Do you have the slight clue what time it is?"
"It's 3 AM."
Vlad blinked, and his scowled deepened. "That somehow makes it even worse." He sat up as Danny leaned back, and reached for his side table, taking up a glass with little difficulty and downing the water in few gulps. He then sighed and looked back at Danny. "What is this about making a clone of you?"
Danny crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Exactly what it sounds like, fruitloop. I need you," Danny pointed a finger at Vlad. "To make me," He then pointed that finger at himself. "A clone."
Vlad's eyebrow twitched at how Danny spoke. As if he were explaining someone complex to a child. He sighed, killing whatever retort was on his tongue to instead rest his head in his head.
"There should most likely be one left that I haven't melted down yet, do with that what you will." He shifted back some until he could rest against his headboard and waited for the nuisance to leave-
"Why are you shirtless?" Inquired the child that was still there.
Vlad opened his eyes to shoot his a glare and he scoffed. "Are you not going to run along towards whatever need you have for a clone, child. Or do you insist on ruining whatever peace I have left?"
"Is the clone an actual clone or..?" Danny tilted his eyes, eyes roaming off Vlad to the lump beside him.
"No, it won't suddenly come to life, it is just a body." Vlad explained as he manifested a wing to hide said lump from Danny's gaze. "So you need not worry about that part, though why you would need one is beyond me."
Danny stayed quiet for a moment, before shrugging. "You still have a clone of me though? That's kinda weird dud-" His smirk was slapped right off his smug face by a wing as he flew back a bit through the air.
He matched Vlad's glare with one of his own as he rubbed his face, before huffing. "Fine. I'm leaving now." He phased through the wall, leaving with the whisper of fruitloop and leaving Vlad in that blessed, of so sacred silence.
Sadly, it was not to last.
His bedroom door was slammed open, with enough strength to shake the entire room and cause the poor thing to slam into the wall with enough force to crack the blood thing. "Dad! Those weird birds are-" The voice momentarily interrupted by two shouts of alarm.
"SWEET BUTTER BISTCUITS!"
"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"
"-...Why are you naked...?" Danielle said, a look of disturbed confusion on her face before she ducked low to avoid a blast of magic. "Okay, now that was uncalled for- ewwwwwwwww!" She then screwed her eyes shut and put her hands over her eyes and looked as if she might puke.
Vlad, deciding to spare his daughter from a sight only he should've seen this morning and acquainted himself with quite thoroughly last night, he moved a wing to hide his partner's... private bits, from sight. Who then decided it would be the best idea to sit down.
On Vlad's wing.
If Vlad were any lesser man, he might have complained. But he was not. So he did not.
He did shift his wing around, however.
"You have a kid?" John Constantine, conman extraordinaire, rather shamelessly took the glass offered as Vlad covered the both of them with a sheet and drank the water. "Would a been nice to know before I shot at her, actually."
Vlad massaged the bridge of his nose, a headache coming on that in no way was because of a hangover and sighed through his nose. "She was not even supposed to be here for a week more, so there was no reason to tell you anything."
To which Constantine shrugged.
"Why are you here, Danielle. You were supposed," He stressed the word. "To be somewhere in Metropolis."
A single eye peeked out from between the girl's fingers, before she let out a relieved sigh and dropping her hands. "Those weird birds tracked me down to tell you they want to meet you." Dani wrinkled her nose. "Though I think you should put on clothes though.
"Weird birds-" Vlad paused, sneaking a glance over at his alarm clock to see that it was, in fact, 3:15 AM and groaned. he dropped his face into his hands. "Those blasted phoenixes, it's three in the morning!"
Dani just shrugged and stepped out of the room. "They're in your living room by the way, the fourth one down the hall that takes the two right turns, and they're getting pretty impatient." She then paused, staring straight at Constantine, who stared back with a raised eyebrow.
Water dripped down his face and down onto the bed as a ball of water slapped smack dab in the face as he reopened his eyes with an unamused expression.
Dani stuck her tongue out and then disappeared down the hall.
"Well, I'm awake now at least." Constantine said, reaching over Vlad's lap to place his now empty glass onto the side table.
A loud screech cut through the noise of the mansion, and for the second time. Vlad groaned.
It was only three in the morning...
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lovebugism · 3 months
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“Remind me why I can’t kill the carolers?” with a grumpy scrooge eddie!! maybe he and reader move into a new neighborhood with friendly neighbors who go all out for christmas and are always caroling? i can’t imagine the people of hawkins showing up at his door lol
ty for requesting :D — the metalhead freak gets stuck with a bunch of carolers and runs to his girl for comfort (established relationship, fluff, eddie "loves being babied" munson, 1.2k)
blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
Eddie moves to the nice side of Hawkins with you. Not the suburbs, exactly, but pretty damn close. 
It’s a house with stairs and a sliding back door, both of which only existed in movies for a kid who grew up in a trailer park. The backyard is fenced in, too — big enough for a dog. A couple of them, even. And maybe a pool if his music career takes off. The realtor also told you that the school district is “to die for,” and even though that’s not really an issue right now, Eddie figures it’ll be important sometime soon.
These are all things you’re supposed to care about when you’re settling down with someone you can see a future with. Eddie thinks so, at least. He can see himself getting old with you, in this house and on that front porch. He’ll be holding your hand on your afternoon walks until both of yours are spotted and wrinkly.
The only bad thing about life (halfway) in the suburbs is running into all the assholes he used to know in high school. Vicki Carmichael was walking her too-expensive dog yesterday morning, and the afternoon before that, Tina Burton had the whole cul-de-sac down the street shut down for her kid’s first birthday party. What the hell is a one-year-old even supposed to do with a bouncy house?
It’s totally trippy. 
But Eddie’s been able to avoid them well enough. Or maybe everyone else is avoiding him. Either way, he’s grateful.
“No— where are you going?” you whine as Eddie slides open the glass door of the shower. You’re still getting used to being able to do this with him now that you’ve moved into the new place. The bathroom back at the trailer was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.
“I’m already done, and you’ve barely even started,” he answers, laughing at the dramatic desperation in your voice. 
He steps onto the plush mat outside the tub and wraps a towel around his tattooed hips. Steam flows out, and the outside cold swoops in. It pricks your skin and makes you shiver. You duck under the faucet for warmth until he closes the door behind him.
“You’re gonna be in here forever, and I’m gonna get all pruney,” Eddie insists, right before shaking out his damp curls like a wet dog.
“You usually like it when I take my time,” you joke, laughing when it makes him silent.
Eddie’s brain gets all foggy at your words. Worse than the heavy steam filling up the bathroom. He’s contemplating whether or not to jump back into the shower with you — and really let you “take your time” — but a knock on the door throws a wrench in his plans.
“Can you get the door for me, honey?” you ask just to tease him, ‘cause you know he’s milliseconds away from pressing you against the shower wall.
He listens to you, because he always listens to you, and then ultimately decides he never will again.
Eddie leaves the warmth of the bathroom, shoves on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that do little to protect him from the bitter cold outside, and finds a number of familiar faces standing on his porch. 
It’s an entire crowd of people who used to bully him in high school — plus a bunch of snotty private school kids — all dressed up in the most horrendous, white-bread Christmas outfits the world has ever seen.
“Oh, shit…” Eddie mumbles under his breath, the evidence of his words leaving in a thin white cloud. He hadn’t even meant to say them out loud. They just sorta spilled out in the moment. Honestly, he thinks he might be dreaming.
The town’s resident metalhead is forced to sit through a botched rendition of Deck the Halls and Holy Night. And since you’re still in the shower, you can’t even swoop in to save him from it all. He just suffers through the half-out-of-tune caroling while his drying hair frizzes, a wavering smile of confusion stagnant on his face. 
When they’re finally gone, Eddie shuts the door with a chest-deflating sigh. He isn’t totally sure he’s taken a single breath since he opened the damn thing.
“Who was that?” you call from the top of the stairs, a fuzzy towel clutched to your chest. The warm scent of your body wash flows from the opened bathroom door and down the steps.
Eddie turns to look up at you from the bottom of them. He feels so suddenly drained. Like he just ran a marathon or pulled an all-nighter — something utterly exhausting that’s taken a piece of his soul. Maybe it’s dramatic, but he feels a little like his suffering has stripped ten years off his life.
“Remind me again why we can’t kill the carolers?” he jokes as he trudges up the stairs, the railing of them lined with glowing garlands.
“Those were carolers?” you gape, eyes wide and brows raised to your hairline.
Answering the door isn’t really Eddie’s thing. Conversations with strangers at the door aren’t really his thing, either. You think he might’ve just lived through one of his greatest fears.
“Yeah,” he scoffs, laughing through an exhausted sigh. He walks to your shared bedroom and flops on the center of the bed. A heavy sigh falls from his lips like he just got done working a twelve-hour shift. 
You’d laugh at his dramatics if you thought they were anything but totally real. So instead, you sit gingerly beside him, careful to keep your towel from falling, and try to comfort him without giggling.
“Shit, babe. I’m sorry,” you mutter, rubbing a palm up and down the length of his back. You’re grateful he can’t see your smile from this angle, lest he think you aren’t taking this seriously.
“Oh, don’t be,” he tells you, muffled into his pillow. Sarcasm drips from his honeyed lips like venom. “It was tons of fun seeing Jason fucking Carver on our doorstep.”
“Jason was out there?” you gape, a little louder than you mean to. Your shock is palpable.
Eddie huffs and turns onto his back. “Yeah— did you know he has a kid now?”
“What?”
“Uh-huh,” he nods with a small smirk. The life returns to the chocolate of his eyes now that he can gossip. “She was a really cute baby, you know, considering. The odds weren’t really in her favor there.”
You tilt your cheek to your shoulder and cup his jaw with a warm hand. Your thumb rubs gently over the flushed apple of it, tinted cold from the outside weather. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you,” you tell him, half playful but with a sincere glimmer in your eye.
“No, it’s okay,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see that.”
You can’t tell if Eddie knows you’re teasing him or not. Or if he’s joking about the whole thing ‘cause it’s over now. Your boy’s too hard to read for his own good. You decide to keep pitying him anyway. His love language is basically being babied.
“Want me to make you some hot chocolate?”
He nods, a small pout jutting out his rosy lips. “With the mini marshmallows, please?” he mumbles.
You bend at the waist to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Whatever you want, babe,” you promise in a gentle murmur.
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mrswint3rs · 3 months
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I can't write well but just an idea that I find hot. Totally didn't imagen that.
After the end of RE5. He survived barely. Injured pretty badly but recovering.
Reader taking such good care of him. Since he can't properly do it himself.
Maybe reader could help him relax ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
~horny for Wesker anon
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In a Time of Need
a/n- im in love with this idea oml ty anon.
pairings- Albert Wesker x Gn! reader
NSFW WARNING:
contains- oral sex (m!receiving), handjob, edging, Wesker refers to himself as ‘master’ once, riding Wesker while he’s immobile (consensually), praise/degrading, and use of pet names as always 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
In his weaker state, Wesker is now a shadow of his former self. He's a broken man who has lost everything. He relies on you to take care of him, to feed him, and to keep him comfortable. You're the one who keeps him alive and protects him. You're the one who has the power to make his life better or worse. You have him entirely in your hands.
It used to be the other way around.
He's been reduced to a mere specimen and can't even protest that. He's completely silent, with the only sound being the heavy pumping of his heart. There's a feeling of hopelessness and self-pity surrounding him.
He won’t admit it, but he’s grateful for your presence. Despite how rough he treated you before, and how often he belittled you. You stuck by his side. Even more so when he was as pathetic like this You never seemed to think any less of him.
No matter the failure or wrongdoings, you held Wesker in high regard. You looked up to him as a superior being.
Even now, as you have to be the one to nurse him. Constantly tending to his slow healing wounds and practically spoon feeding him.
Wesker was never one to accept weakness and having to rely on someone else for basic things like eating and sleeping is infuriating for him. He doesn't understand how this has happened and doesn't want to admit that he is weak and vulnerable. He still has his pride and isn't ready to accept the fact that he needs someone to take care of him. He struggles against it every chance he gets, but deep down he understands he has no other options but to comply.
Daily, you have to tend to his bandages and open cuts to prevent further problems like infection.
Cleaning Wesker's wounds is no easy task. They are deep and painful and he doesn't like you touching or inspecting them. He's in so much pain, it's hard for him to even breathe. He clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, but not enough to hide the pain he's in. He curses softly each time you touch him, his wounds raw and red, but slowly healing under the care and attention of your hands.
“Sorry…” You offer a timid apology as you carefully change the gauze, a slight tremble in your hands betraying your concern that you may inadvertently cause discomfort to him.
"It didn't hurt that much." Wesker peers down at you with a mixture of frustration and sadness in his eyes. "Just finish up quickly."
You finish cleaning the wound and apply a fresh bandage to it. Wesker stays silent and stoic as you work, but you know he's in pain and only tolerating this. He's still glaring at you and even if you're doing your best to avoid hurting him, your final touches are making him flinch a little.
"Are you finished?" he grumbles under his breath. You can tell he's trying not to make a fuss, but he clearly wants to be done with this.
You give a reassuring nod in response as you tape up the loose ends. “Are you hungry still?” you ask cautiously. “Need anything before bed?”
"No." he says firmly, not willing to show any neediness or rely on you for anything else.
Part of him did want to be alone, but being around you made him feel slightly better.
Maybe because of your constant need to dote on him. He may have changed but you didn’t. In a sense, you were still basically his lap dog. It fed into that unquenchable thirst for control that he had. You did everything in your power to please him without a second thought.
You could see clear as day how much he was suffering. More than just external wounds inflicted pain.
The poor man was cooped up in bed, unable to accomplish any of the ideals he had thoroughly planned and tried for. Of course you could tell he was stressed. Anyone would be. For Wesker, that stress was eating him alive. He could hardly face you, utterly embarrassed at the state he was forced into. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. He wasn’t supposed to sink so low.
But, you knew exactly what was needed to boost him back up, at least somewhat close to his norm.
As you finish cleaning up, you decide to let your hand roam. Avoiding the injured areas of skin, you delicately slide your hand between his leg. Your soft palm trails the inside of his thighs and his tired eyes flicker to you in surprise. “I don’t want another useless massage.” he cuts in.
“I was thinking of doing a little bit more than that for you today.” you counter in a question like statement. “I think certain areas may be feeling neglected lately.”
Wesker picks up on the innuendo, his mood shifting immediately as you state your suggestion.
“Oh?” his thin lips start to curve into that all knowing grin. “Well then, be my guest.”
He certainly wasn’t going to deny you. The man hadn’t been touched for way longer than he anticipated. He was far too busy for things like this.
He almost forgot how good it could feel.
As your hand glides over his hardening length through the tight fabric of his pants, he jerks on impulse, letting out a throaty groan. He was way more sensitive than you anticipated, but you weren’t complaining.
You slowly stroke him through the material and its enough to send him into shock. The heat pools between his legs at the contact of your hands, the discomfort of his injuries fade into nothing.
To your convenience, he lifts as best he can, letting you strip him of his coverings. His cock stands tall and proud, the vein leading from tip to base steadily twitching.
He watches your every move as you spit into the center of your hand.
His eyes snap shut as you then use it to pump your hand, caressing the whole length, soft and breathy moans pour from his lips at his sensitivity.
“Fuck…just like that. Don’t you dare stop.” he barks out an order, yet he can’t sound as stern with you as usual. Not when you ball your palm over the tip, twisting and squeezing your way around.
He can hardly sit still, as much as he tries.
When your mouth comes into play, kissing softly down his happy trail. Your lip’s envelop him into your warm welcoming hole, his hand entangles in your hair.
The way you flick your tongue as you go is enough to kill him.
His whole body tenses. You take him all the way into your throat without cause for concern, slobbering all sloppy all over the base of his cock as you hold it there.
Wesker feels himself about to cum already. But so do you. So you part ways as fast as you can as you feel that pulsing, leaving him unfinished.
Or so he thought that’s what you were doing until you began to pull your own pants down.
His hands remove themselves from your locks, resting at his side as he waits for whatever it is you were planning. His eyes, half slit, watch your every step, looking you up and down as you strip for him. He tried his best to be patient, but he needed that release. More than anything.
“Come here,” he commands firmly, the frustration evident in his tone. “Now.” You would never deny him, not that you planned on it.
You straddle him, careful not to do any harm.
Sitting now on his lap, you position his hardness between the plush of your thighs. Your hands start to stroke him again, but the rough grip of your wrist forces you to a halt. “Ride.” he orders, leaving no room for leniency. He wanted it. Now.
The look in his eyes was almost pleading, but he’d never been the type to beg. He would have his way no matter the cost.
You position so your thighs rest on either side of his. He was wet enough from the saliva of your mouth, slipping into your tight hole with ease. He grits his teeth, grunting slightly as you slowly sink down on him.
The head of his cock reaches your untouched depths, making you squeeze tighter against him. “Such a good little toy for me,” he groans, hands gripping your hips. “Please your master. Don’t make me tell you again. Ride.”
You press your hands to his midriff to steady your balance. Slowly you slide back up, almost pulling him out. You were sucking him in too tightly to let go, even if you tried.
Either way, Wesker forces you back down with what little strength he had. “Faster.” he shouts, and you don’t hesitate.
You bounce on his cock, walls suffocatingly massaging his length inside. His head lulls back as things pick up pace, hands tightening their hold on you.
His hips move along with yours, the best they can. He was desperately chasing his high. After you stopped him mid release prior, he was feeling extra needy. He refused to allow that to happen more than once.
He slams into you at an ungodly pace, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He splits you open on his cock with no regard for your pleasure, only focused on his own.
You were the one who offered to be used, after all.
“You’re going to take every drop of my precious seed. Do you understand?” he growls almost incoherent, lost in the pleasure.
You plead yes, that you understand.
“Say it aloud. Tell me what you are to me.”
You try to gather your thoughts. He didn’t cease his assault, shaking you with every rough thrust. “Y-your cum slut..” you mewl out, hoping your decided answer was satisfactory enough.
“hnng- yes,” he moans out deeply. “My good little slut. I’m going to fill you up and you’re just going to let me.”
He bullies into you rapidly, forcing out your cries as he milks himself in your insides.
He doesn’t slow as he cums in spurts, coating your walls with his white fluids. He continues to stuff it deeper into you as he goes, draining everything he has into you.
It pools out on top of him, leaking messily onto the bed.
Wesker relaxes his hold, no longer feeling so tense and worked up. He collapses back onto the bed, a sweaty panting mess, leaving you to sit and warm his cock.
“You’re going to give yourself to me everytime i request, from now on.”
Much to your surprise, Wesker pulls you down against him, chest to chest. He was never once affectionate towards you before. But now here he is, face burrowed in the crook of your neck.
His hands comfortingly play with your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp.
You melt into him, completely basking in the aftermath and enjoying his rare, gentle touch.
“You’re sleeping here tonight,” he states matter of factly. “You did quite well for me. I think you’re deserving of some extra attention.”
mlist
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rogueddie · 1 year
Text
Steve realizes that he's been spending too much time with the kids families when he gets home, realizing that he'd bought supplies for knitting. It's something that Claudia and, recently, Joyce have been getting into. They would rope Steve into joining them whenever he time there.
But it's nice. He likes knitting. He likes the repetitively and how easy it is to simply... stop. Stop worrying, stop pacing, stop thinking. Stop being so afraid.
It's hard to be scared of beasts in the walls when he looks down and finds a badly knitted sock in his lap. It looks too silly.
The longer he spends on it though, the better he gets. It's not long until he's knitting things nice enough that he feels confident enough to wear them outside the house. And no one bats an eye.
Robin even steals some of his scarves- until she learns that he knit them and then she starts making demands. Which he's happy to fulfil. Seeing her light up when he hands her the scarf and gloves, in the exactly color and pattern she'd asked for, is more than worth it.
That Christmas, his new knitting skills save the day. He had to set himself a very strict budget for the presents. He's trying to save as much as he can, with Robin and Eddie, so they can move into a little house they have their eyes on.
He blows the entire budget on the kids.
So, with the help of Robin, he tries to think of the best things to knit for the adults.
Robin asks him to make them matching scarves and gloves. She knows that Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle will want matching things too, which solves what to get them. As well as Joyce and Hopper- though, Steve isn't sure how those will go down.
The other parents are easy. He's spoken to them, been in their homes enough, to know the patterns and colors they favor.
By the time he finishes knitting everyone their things... he's still not sure what to knit for Eddie. All he has is the black yarn he got and some of the maroon and dark green left over from the other projects.
"He'll be happy you got him anything at all," Robin teases. "You know that. You just want it to be perfect because-"
"He's my friend! Ok? I just want to get him something nice for Christmas."
"And that's all there is to it?"
"Yes!"
"Mhm," Robin smirks, slowly walking backwards towards the door, raising an eyebrow at him. "I totally believe you."
Even though Robin hadn't been any help with thinking of any good ideas, he's sure that he's only thinking of worse ones without her. It doesn't help that, the longer he sits and tries to think, the more ideas they came up with together he forgets.
In the end, he settles for a gothic version of a Christmas sweater. He tries to make it as detailed as he can- knitting in snowflakes and zig zags, the hellfire devil head instead of a reindeer and little Christmas trees along the bottom hem.
He shoves it into the little Christmas bag he got for it, taping the top shut before he can doubt himself. He tucks it away, pointedly avoiding so much as glancing at it.
It's a relief when, a few days later, Christmas comes around.
Most of them bounce between the Wheelers and the Byers homes. The kids all spend most of the day at the Wheelers, gathering all their presents with them. Dustin helps Steve bring the presents from him, Robin and Claudia inside.
He stops at the Byers, where most of the adults are gathered. Joyce and Nancy both try to convince him to change his mind, to stay for dinner, as he drops their presents off. But, as he reminds them, he promised Robin he'd spend Christmas dinner with her.
She's sat on the trailer steps with Eddie when Steve pulls up.
"You're late!" Eddie yells as Steve opens the trunk, grabbing the last three presents. "Have you no consideration for the peasants?!"
"Shut up," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He gently kicks him. "Move."
Eddie throws himself off the steps, onto the floor. "Ah! Rob, he's bullying me!"
"Good." Robin stands up, opening the door and waving Steve inside. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie. "Get up, I'm hungry."
"Fine!" Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "You're all so mean to me."
Wayne clears his throat. He's stood by the kitchen, leaning with his arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "You kids ready to eat now or do you want to do presents first?"
"Food," they all say in sync.
The dinner is amazing, something Steve and Robin both keep telling Wayne. Whenever the conversation pauses, they have a little kick-fight on who gets to speak up that time.
Wayne jokingly asks Eddie why he's never so complimentary about his cooking, which earns him an eye roll.
"You don't need the ego boost, old man."
Wayne gets him in a loose headlock when he stands up, ruffling his hair, before quickly grabbing the plates that Steve tries to collect.
"No, no, no. You kids get started opening your presents, I've got these."
Robin drags him along, into the living room, by the collar of his polo when he tries to offer help. Eddie helps, grabbing his forearm. Steve grumbles the whole time, folding his arms when they push him down, onto the sofa.
"Ladies first," Eddie throws a present at Robin, nearly hitting her in the face. He grins widely when she flips him off.
He insists that, once Robin opens all of her presents, Steve has to open his. Then Wayne. And, once they've all opened theirs, Eddie claps his hands together at the remaining presents.
"Perfect. All for me." He grins, grabbing Steves first. He almost rips the bag with how hard he pulls at the tape.
"We have scissors," Robin waves them at him.
He bats them away, digging the sweater out of the bag. "Oooh, gothic Christmas, very-" he stops when he turns it over, staring at the front for a moment. "Is... is this, like, custom made?"
"Yeah, sort of," Steve says, shrugging. He offers a smile when Eddie looks up at him, looking almost... awed.
"He made it himself," Robin says. "He's gotten into knitting."
"You knit this? Yourself? Stevie, what the hell! This is amazing!" He quickly shrugs off his jacket so he can put the sweater on. "I'm never taking this off. Fuck, I could kiss you."
"Save it for the bedroom," Wayne quickly says, holding a hand up. "Some of us here don't want to see all that PDA."
Robin snickers. "Yeah, have some decency for the rest of us."
"Ha ha," Eddie deadpans. "You're both hilarious."
"Seriously though, son," Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'll support and love you no matter what, but I'd hate to see you and a girl getting like that just as much."
"What?" Eddie frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Wayne glances between him and Steve. "You and your boy."
"Holy shit," Robin whispers. "I knew it wasn't just me."
"I'm, uh..." Steve eventually speaks up, once it's clear that Eddie isn't going to say anything, simply continuing to gape at Wayne. "I'm not his boy."
"What?" Wayne turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. "You ain't asked him out yet? How many dates have you been on and you still ain't-"
"We're not dating," Eddie hisses. "I've told you this, like, seventy times!"
"This is amazing," Robin whispers, eyes darting between the two as they continue arguing back and forth. "Stevie, you owe me money."
Steve groans, slouching as low as he can, covering his red face with both hands.
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lukesandromeda · 4 days
Text
for them. l castellan.
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pairing: luke castellan x daughter of athena!reader
summary: the scene in tlo where luke returns home.
a/n: i think a lot about being on the road with luke and i know it was probably the worse experience on the world sooooooo obviously i have to do something with these thoughts
probably part one of a series
there was a cut on your right shoulder, annabeth was complaining about how bad her feet hurt, and thalia wouldn’t stop sending tense glares to everyone.
“can you stop looking at me like that? i didn’t do anything.” luke growled. the four of you were walking down an alleyway a few miles into manhattan, tripping over your own sore feet. each of your weapons were still drawn, having just escaped the hellhound that’d chased you only two minutes ago.
“didn’t do anything my ass,” thalia barked. “you’re the one who insisted we fight the dog, and now my signed green day poster is chewed up in his stomach. thanks a lot, luke.”
“nobody cares about your stupid poster, thalia,” luke protested.
“obviously, i do!”
“why is that what you’re worried about? you’ve got a big gash in your leg and you’re fussing about a poster.”
annabeth looked between the two before moving closer to you, hiding her face in your arm.
“stop it, guys, shut up,” you hissed. “you’re scaring her.”
thalia went to speak, but luke kept his mouth shut after muttering a quick, sorry annabeth.
you let out a little sigh before looking at the watch on your arm. you cursed. “it’s getting late, guys.”
when neither thalia or luke answered as they kept walking, you cleared your throat and spoke again, “should we make camp?”
“we’re not stopping,” the boy said coldly, causing both thalia and you to quit walking. annabeth bumped into your arm when you stopped, and she craned her head up to look at luke.
“what?”
“i want to make it out of connecticut by the end of tomorrow,” luke said. “and it’ll only hold us back if we sleep an entire night.”
“i’m tired,” annabeth whined, gripping your shirt. you sighed before bending down to pick her up, carrying her in your right arm as you looked over at luke who stared at the little girl before she said, “i want to sleep.”
thalia hissed, and you looked over to see her falling to the ground as she desperately gripped her own leg. “shit.”
you looked at luke as both of you stopped walking. the two of you were the only people well and healthy enough at the moment to make the decision. he pursed his lips.
“where can we go?” you asked.
“i—i… we—shit. we can’t,” luke spluttered.
“where?”
he bit his lip. “we…shit.”
“speak, luke.”
he grunted. “we’re only a few miles from my house.”
“yes,” you said immediately. “we have to. we don’t have a choice.”
“but i really don’t—”
“luke, do it for them.”
he huffed, eyes avoiding your gaze as he looked at thalia, who was cursing as she wrapped the sleeve of her jacket around the wound on her thigh.
“please,” you begged, desperately tugging on the sleeve of his ragged shirt.
he let out a breath of air through his teeth before he moved out of your grip. “fine. come on.”
as the two of you started to walk again, annabeth still on your arm, thalia stood and limped after you.
the few minutes of walking was getting painful for you, and you walk became laggard as you followed the vigorous boy ahead of you. “slow down.”
he slowed at your request, muttering something under his breath.
“wait, wait, shit,” you chanted as your knees buckled. luke senses you were falling and he took annabeth from your arms as you caught yourself and moved to sit on the ground, clutching your stomach and breathing heavily.
“what? what is it?” luke asked, kneeling down. he placed a hand to your forehead after brushing the hair that was there out of the way.
“i can’t—i can’t breathe.” you panted, looking up at him only in a bit of a struggle.
he grunted before reaching behind him to grab his flash of water and pressing it to your lips. “drink.”
you sipped, choking on your spit as it mixed with the water and poured down your throat. it did help a little, you admitted to yourself as luke pulled away and brushed some hair out of your face. “you okay?”
“we need to find your house,” you whined.
“don’t worry, i know where to go,” he hummed, standing and holding out his hand.
you grabbed it, and thalia followed you, who followed luke with annabeth still in his arms. the walk was dreadful until eventually you approached a hill.
after a torturous hike up the steep ridge, you gasped in relief at the sight of a house.
“there,” luke whispered. his breath seemed to catch a bit as he froze at the sight of his house.
“it’s beautiful,” you gasped, but you shook your head and followed him when he started walking again. “thalia, you okay?”
“‘m fine.” she groaned, and you could hear her feet hitting the ground aggressively as she continued to limp.
the closer to the house you got, the more the anxiety creeped up on you. standing a few feet away from the house, you heard a loud voice saying, you shouldn’t have come back.
“uh, luke?” you said nervously. “what does that—”
“i don’t know, but we’re not turning back,” he said quickly. he walked over to the garage door and put a code into the box. it opened.
nervously, you followed him into the house. it was quiet, but the inside was beautiful, aside from the odd decorations. there were stuffed animals of monsters. medusa, the minotaur, hellhounds, the furies, even—
luke stopped, and your face smashed against his back. he put annabeth down, and you peered around him to see what he was looking at.
a woman, you guessed to be his mother, was sitting across from a man—he was wearing a navy blue tracksuit. there were shoes with wings on his feet, and he was holding a phone that had two snakes coming out of it.
“dad?” luke gasped, and the two people at the table jumped and froze.
“luke? luke!” luke’s mother—may—immediately began sobbing, running to her son. she wrapped her arms around him, trapping him in a hug. her lips kissed his forehead and all over his face aggressively, but he didn’t return any of the excitement.
he was staring ahead at hermes, horror in his eyes. “dad?” he repeated.
“where were you?” may sobbed, and luke moved her off of him.
“dad.”
hermes stood, rather reluctantly. “luke,” he swallowed.
“baby, it’s your father! aren’t you happy?” may asked, but luke began charging forward.
you ran after him, grabbing him before he could reach his father. his fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. “stop. no.”
eventually, you convinced yourself that luke wouldn’t do anything violent, so you let go. he stood angrily, staring at his father with so much hate you almost shrank. hermes’ eyes went to you, and you swallowed, bowing to the god. “lord hermes.”
“y/n,” hermes acknowledged.
luke was biting his lip so hard that you expected blood to trickle down his chin. he growled, “why are you here?”
“why are you here?” hermes countered.
“i didn’t want to come back,” luke snarled. may had come over to the three of you, and she frowned at this. “i did it for my family.”
“for us?” hermes questioned.
“no,” luke scoffed. “for them.” he gestured to you, and then to thalia and annabeth.
“they’re your family?”
“yes,” luke promised.
hermes clicked his tongue. “right.”
“and they’re hurt.”
with a sigh, luke’s father nodded. “well, i am the god of travelers. and you four are very much of travelers. may, get something to take care of zeus’ daughter’s cut. not sure what’s wrong with the athenians, though.”
“they’re tired,” luke said. he was being passive aggressive, you noted, but you didn’t have the energy to scold him for it.
“come with me,” hermes said.
annabeth looked up at you with worry. you swallowed. “it’s okay, annabeth. he’s luke’s dad.”
she looked down, frowning, but nodded and squeezed your hand as you led her after hermes. he brought you to a room, just you, and left annabeth alone in a different one. “wait, lord hermes,” you cried. “annabeth. she can’t… you can’t leave her alone.”
hermes smiled. “just rest, okay? worry about your sister tomorrow.”
“what about luke?”
“what about luke?”
“i mean… i… please don’t… i— please go easy on him. we’ve had a really hard day.”
hermes nodded, a thin smile across his lips as he muttered, “okay,” and left the room.
minutes passed. you are in a master bedroom, a king size bed under you. it was the first time you’d laid against an actual bed in years. it felt so good, and you should’ve been able to fall asleep immediately, but hearing the faint sounds of an argument between luke and his father downstairs made you worry.
eventually, after about thirty minutes of laying, staring at the ceiling in worry, you heard the doorknob rattle. your eyes darted to the door, where luke was walking through.
“luke?” you asked, sitting up.
he shushed you, gesturing for you to move over. you did, and he crawled into the bed next to you. you shifted uncomfortably. “what happened?”
he shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “they… they won’t stop talking about my fate.”
“your fate?”
“i don’t know what it means. i… my dad… he doesn’t love me. he tells me does, but i’m not stupid.”
you looked away. you wanted to tell him you understood, but you knew you didn’t. you couldn’t relate; athena had always answered your prayers, visited you in dreams…
“how’s your mom?” you asked softly.
“she’s having one of her fits. that’s why my dad left. as long as she doesn’t come in here, we’ll be okay.”
you nodded. he sighed. “why aren’t you asleep?”
“i just… couldn’t sleep.”
he clicked his tongue. “i’m really sorry.”
“for what?”
“i never should have dragged you into this mess. you, thalia, and annabeth would be better without me. i just… i get so angry all the time. i don’t even know how to explain it.”
you wanted to comfort him, explain to him that you didn’t think he got angry, but you’d be kidding yourself. he had such excessive wrath that he almost scared you sometimes. you settled for, “it’s okay, luke.”
“it’s not.” you looked over at him. he was sitting upright, and he looked so angry. “i hate him. i hate her, and i hate this stupid fucking situations we’re in.”
“but it’s not your fault.”
“i didn’t say it was my fault!” he yelled, and you flinched. he rolled his eyes. “yeah, alright, it’s okay. you’re flinching because of me.”
“no, no. i’m just… on edge.”
“i saw the way you bowed to my father,” he spat the word out like it was poison. it rotted in his mouth as he continued, “like you were grateful for what he’d done. you think he’s a good person? is that it?”
“no. but he’s a god. why are you being like this?”
“being like what?”
he let out air through his nose, glaring at you. you shrunk under his gaze and whispered quickly, “never mind.”
luke huffed. he stood, throwing the covers off of him and storming to the door. “get rest. we’re leaving in the morning.
your head hit the pillow, your heart clenching in your chest as your water eyes stared up at the ceiling. you closed your eyes before you wept.
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jtl-fics · 11 months
Text
Fluent Freshman - Part 08
PREVIOUS
FF knows that it might be possible to get a new flight and that the excuse of “Oh I found a flight so I could go spend the holiday with my Gran” would probably be unassailable even tot he great unknown of Andrew Minyard’s displeasure (FF has not yet figured out when the pin will drop and Andrew will come at him. The man is a stone wall but FF knows that Andrew doesn’t like him and that knowledge is confirmed every time Andrew and Captain Neil come into Nicky’s dorm and find FF there hanging out with Nicky and he sees both Andrew and Captain Neil frown at him.)
It’s just that it takes 7-10 business days for him to build up the nerve to have to call someone and deal with customer service and it would take more bravery than he currently has to press forward and actually get a flight that would WORK. He has a very limited window for when he can get to Washington. HIs Gran had called a friend to borrow a car to pick him up and that was only available during a 6 hour window on his arrival date.
He COULD get a taxi to his Gran’s house but… (“What if I get kidnapped, what if I get trafficked, how do I tell a normal taxi from a taxi that will take me to a place where I’ll wake up in an ice bath and down a kidney, what if the taxi driver doesn’t like me, what if the taxi driver wants to talk, I don’t have anything interesting to say! What if he says mean things about me in his native language on the phone and I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s SAYING?)… he’d probably die during the hour long ride from the anxiety.
He tells his Gran and she promises to get a pie out to him A.S.A.P.
It almost makes him feel better until he remembers what he had agreed to when Andrew came at him at his WEAKEST MOMENT to get him to agree to spend an entire four days at the house in Columbia he has HEARD stories about.
FF, laying face down on the floor in Nicky’s dorm as Nicky pats his back: Nicky next time you see me about to agree to something that will result in me getting killed I NEED you to run up and just punch me in the jaw. I’m begging you. You know I’m a disaster.
Nicky thinking about how Andrew has gotten weirdly protective of FF since the whole step brother incident: I need you to understand that that will result in ME being killed which I am not a big fan of.
FF misunderstanding: My grandma’s not THAT strong Nicky. At most grandmothers from across the country will frown disapprovingly at you.
Nicky thinking about all the little old ladies who dote on FF for inexplicable reasons and how some of them know he’s FF’s friend and give Nicky the grandma experience he had lacked growing up: Somehow that’s even worse than what I was thinking :(
***
Nicky coming to check on FF hours later: Are…are you watching the Saw movies?
FF taking copious notes: I need to prepare myself to survive Columbia. Do you have a basement or will Andrew be moving me to a secondary location?
Nicky walking over and shutting off the TV: I think it’s time to go to bed champ.
FF: If I don’t sleep then Andrew can’t drag me to a secondary location. I bought a 20 pack of five hour energy because that is the most the CVS would sell me.
Nicky: They cut you off??
FF: Yeah the manager there said he’d sell it as a ‘favor’ to a ‘loyal customer’ but to destroy my receipt and I had to buy in cash in case I die from a heart attack so it’s not linked to them. So if I play my cards right I have around 4 days of energy right here. I have looked up all the foods that can make you sleepy and will be avoiding them to stack the deck.
Nicky guiding FF towards his bedroom: Y’know that includes turkey. Also those five hour energy shots will be murder on your tummy. :(
FF: I am willing to make some sacrifices so I can live to see 19 Nicky. Also I figure I can just drink an entire bottle of Pepto per bottle of five hour energy resulting in a net neutral situation in my stomach.
Nicky tucking FF into bed carefully: Or result in you going to the hospital for an overdose get some sleep Smith. Andrew is not planning on killing you.
FF already falling asleep because his stress energy is running out: You have no idea how much he dislikes me and how much pepto my body can handle but you’re right about going to sleep. I’ll need my strength to power through the reverse bear trap let alone a laser collar.
***
2 of Grandma Smith’s apple pies arrive in the early afternoon of Thanksgiving via a little old lady turning up at Abby’s house who is a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of Grandma Smith. The Foxes take a moment to marvel that somehow it is still warm despite apparently having been Granny expressed across the country despite the storm.
The delivering old lady pinches FF’s cheek and says not to be too disheartened and that his Grandma loves him and will see him for Christmas Break for SURE. She hands him a little note his Gran sent with the pies and he pointedly does not read it there.
This would make FF happy if he hadn’t been swearing up down left and right that he didn’t TALK to his grandma to Andrew whose eyes he can FEEL on him.
He manages a “THANKS.” In a perfectly normal tone. He has no memory that he already told Andrew and Captain Neil that he was spending the holiday with his grandma since he had blue screened at the offer last time and had rebooted in safe mode to power walk away from the situation.
“Your grandma is really nice.” Captain Neil says. “Those pies look good.”
FF, his anxiety momentarily overridden by a soul-deep love for his grandma, “My gran is the BEST and so are her pies.” And then he hears what he has said and walks back into Abby’s house to set out one pie for everyone else and goes and stress eats the second one on the living room couch after he promised Abby he’d clean up any mess.
He wonders if he’ll make it to Christmas Break as he sees Kevin Day staring at him in abject horror while Andrew stares straight at him.
Even with the attention on him he decides to check the note the other granny had given him from his Gran. It is in her native polish so he feels his shoulders relax since no one would be able to read it.
‘For my little Chicken, this isn’t your last meal like you texted me. I know you will be fine. I am thankful for you in my life every day.’
He tucks the note in his pocket and feels a little better.
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NEXT
Per your requests:
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agustdiv1ne · 1 year
Text
✧˖°.10:52 p.m. — choi soobin
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genre: fluff, college au, a couple of introverts at a party LOL
wc: 1.2k
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soobin isn't particularly fond of parties.
it's something that he’s made abundantly clear — raucous music results in a miserable headache; cramped, sweaty crowds cause his heart to pound and his stomach to twist in the worst way. soobin despises parties, really. his housemate, yeonjun, is more than well aware after soobin yelled at him the first time he threw one of the impromptu variety. the question is: does yeonjun care?
another bass-boosted edm song rattles the entire house. soobin gets his answer.
he drags a pillow over his face with an exasperated groan. there seems to be no sign of this particular party ending any time soon, much to his own displeasure. he purses his lips, sits up, and grabs his phone from the nightstand next to his bed. it looks like he won’t be getting much sleep tonight.
the rest of his room remains relatively dark while he cycles through the myriad of apps on his phone, yet none of them keep his attention for very long. he’s engrossed in a youtube video about some dog when his door swings open with a flourish of light and a wall of sound before promptly slamming shut. heart racing, he watches a complete stranger slide down his bedroom door with their face buried in their hands.
unsure of what to do, he sits frozen on his bed, staring down at your curled up form. he hears an almost inaudible sniffle come from you, a shock of concern shooting down his spine. though his mouth falls agape, he pauses before words can escape.
his eyes widen and his stomach flips when he realizes it's you — not a stranger, but, in soobin's eyes, something much worse: his pathetically long-term, same-major-as-him crush. what's worse: you barely know him, only ever having brief conversations in class if absolutely forced to. you've had more than a few classes together, sitting near each other but never too close. he finds it difficult to strike up conversation with you when you seem just as reserved as him.
despite it all, vines began to curl around his heart, squeezing every time he would see you, or speak a few words to you, even if those words simply pertained to an assignment. even now, those feelings don't seem to want to recede. though quiet, he's found you to be kind, bright, your smile lighting up his heart in a way that he's never felt before. again, he thinks of himself as pitiful, knowing that there is a slim to none chance of you ever getting together due to his own insecurities.
another one of your sniffles, louder now, shakes him from his thoughts. he gulps, steeling himself, and says, “are you okay?”
you flinch, and panic singes his nerves. he doesn’t even realize that you’ve stood up, spouting apologies as your hand shoots for the doorknob. “i didn’t realize i wasn’t alone, i’m s—”
“w-wait!” he interrupts. your movements halt as you stare at him for a second, regarding him with an odd expression painted on your face. a beat of silence passes, two, as you stare at each other. he notices the sheen of tears that line your waterline despite the dimness of the room. it makes you look prettier, somehow — like dewdrops clinging onto spiderwebs.
“really, are you okay?” he tries again, praying that you don’t try to bolt this time. he’s nearly ready to jump out of his own skin when you choke a sob down.
“i…” you trail off for a moment, wringing your fingers. you look around his room, avoiding eye contact now, blinking away the tears. “yeah, um, i guess. just a little overwhelmed right now.”
your face twists in confusion for a moment before you speak again. “you’re…you’re soobin, right?”
jumping at the sound of his name passing your lips, he scrambles to respond as nonchalantly as possible. “yeah! yeah, that’s me. um, we have a class together, right?” 
“a few classes, actually,” you answer a little too quickly, gaze finding the floor. the smile you wear doesn’t quite reach your eyes. you offer him your name, but he replies that he already knows. “well, um, it’s nice to formally meet you, despite the circumstances.”
“same here,” he says, ignoring the frenzied beating of his heart. he never thought this would ever happen — you, standing in his room and actually talking to him. he sees you shuffling back towards the door, and his lips purse for a second. should he?
(you look about ready to say goodbye, but he's not sure when he'll ever be able to talk to you again.
he should.)
“um, if you’d like to chill in here for a bit, feel free. i mean! you don’t have to, but um—”
your giggle has the words fading from his tongue in an instant. "thanks, but i wouldn't wanna intrude."
“you wouldn’t!” he exclaims, cringing at his voice’s volume. “you wouldn’t. you don’t really seem like the rager type.”
“i’m not,” you agree, moving closer to him. he moves to switch a light on, and when he looks back, you stand at the foot of his bed, front teeth worrying your bottom lip. “you mind if i, um, sit on your bed?”
“not at all,” he says, but he does, he so does. he thinks that he might just pass out at this rate, but as you begin talking — everything from classes and favorite colors to what you dream about for your futures, you moving closer until your sitting knee-to-knee — he somehow begins to relax.
you lean closer in a moment of boldness, asking if he'd like to hang out sometime, just the two of you. he finds himself admiring your lips, the urge to kiss you unable to win over his logical mind. he wants to take things slow with you, find out all of your little quirks, your likes and dislikes, the way you like your coffee, if you even like coffee. he wants to believe that maybe, just maybe, you like him back when you grin at his acceptance.
the mirage of peace is broken by a ding! from your phone, your friend telling you that she's ready to go and where the hell are you? you literally disappeared. you sigh, apologizing, as you rise from his comforter. he stands up to walk you out, and you turn around as you exit his room, him leaning against the doorframe.
“if you ever come to another of yeonjun’s parties, you know where to find me,” soobin jokes, causing you to smile. you tell him you would, and that you’re looking forward to your classes together on monday. you leave with a gentle squeeze of your hand entangled in his and a demure smile, and he watches you disappear down the stairs before his door clicks shut.
collapsing back onto his bed, soobin decides that he may dislike parties, but he thinks that he may be able to bear them if you're there, too.
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masterlist
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© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.
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keyofw · 14 days
Text
I know it's no longer a novel observation how the entire internet is enshittified now but it's still shocking that so many of the things we depend on had such a sudden and marked decline in quality.
Google results are mostly ads. Facebook is 90% ads, 10% domestic terrorists. Twitter is... well, not Twitter and it's only good for Nazis to yell at each other in the hopes they make .0004 cents per tweet. Instagram is ads. TikTok is misinformation central. YouTube serves forty-seven ads per second of videos watched.
Every news article is behind a paywall, and some of them are just AI-text garbled from someone else's much better article, also behind a paywall.
AI art has made it impossible to find images you want. It's also exploded the use and potential use of misinformation. Your data is now being fed to generative AIs to make cheap slop that only makes information harder to find and source.
Everyone wants you using their app instead of a web browser so that you aren't allowed to block the 3,487 ads per page that have to load.
Amazon is full of fake or low-quality dupes of the things you actually want to buy. Netflix and other streaming services are raising prices, cutting available shows, and erasing the existence of shows in order to avoid paying writers. Art hosting sites such as DeviantArt allow your work to be scraped for NFTs and generative AI without your consent or any form of compensation. Spotify has demonetized over 80% of their tracks and pays the rest astoudingly low, worse than the other streaming services which also underpay.
Everything is a subscription service which means not only are you paying for the same product in perpetuity but you never technically own any tool you use and your right to use it can be revoked at any time. Everything has to be a "smart" product so when the business inevitably folds and/or the servers shut down, your product no longer works. Hope it's not something you need!
Every company no longer accepts phone calls but routes you through a series of automated messages until finally dumping you off to an overworked and underpaid person who has no power to help you. Speaking of phones, you can't use them for calls. There are so many robocallers and scams that no one in their right mind picks up the phone anymore. Texts are going the same way. No one wants to dig through 100 scam messages to find the one from the person they actually want to talk to.
It's all just the inevitable end result of capitalism. It doesn't have to be this way. But there needs to be regulation, and fast, or the "Dead Internet Theory" will no longer be a fringe theory.
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lilyrizzy · 7 months
Note
34. washing the other's body
I promised you some girl daniel lin, I hope you like it ❤️ set right after this Daniel also breaks her hand
The sound of running water has been seeping under the bathroom door for almost an hour now. Normally, Daniel showers with the door open, and Max gets to see the steamy shape of her through the glass, gets to be soothed by her familiar movements. Something homely. Sometimes, he sits on the closed toilet lid and they discuss weekend plans, and other times they shower together.
Tonight, she'd shut the door.
For half an hour, Max had distracted himself by checking in on Gianni's live stream on his phone, dropping a few funny comments into the chat that were bound to get a few more viewers. Then, he'd shut it down and paced into the kitchen, placed their premade meals onto microwavable plates, ready for when Daniel came out.
Now, he's got nothing left to distract him from his worry.
"Daniel?" He calls to her as he knocks on the door. When she doesn't answer, there's a momentary lurch of fear in his chest, his stomach, his entire body that has him pushing it open.
Inside though, there is no horror scene. Daniel is sat in the bath, cast hanging over the side, as the taps gush out a steady stream of water.
Even from the doorway he can see that her eyes are red rimmed when she looks at him, but he knows better than to ask a question he knows the answer to. If she wants him to acknowledge her tears, she'll make a joke about them.
"Max," she says, voice sounding a little wobbly. Then, after a beat, "turns out I use this hand more than just to wank with."
With her good hand, she points to her head. Her curls there are darker with the water, and an uneven smattering of suds. The shampoo is still open, perched on the edge of the tub, and the hairbrush she has always told him was so important to use for maximum girl boss, curl boss power hasn't even been taken down from the shelf.
"I see," Max says, already moving to grab the brush. "Well. It is a good thing you have a boyfriend who is trained in curl care."
She snorts, but doesn't protest when he crouches down besides her and starts to brush. Usually, she tells him he can tug harder than he does, that it doesn't hurt, but he can never bring himself to do it. This time, she doesn's say anything, and he keeps the strokes of the brush smooth, teasing out the knots at the bottom, working his way up.
"I'm such a fucking idiot," she says eventually, just as he is lathering shampoo into his hands, rubbing it into her scalp. "I should have- I should have avoided Piastri. I should have taken my hand off the fucking wheel at least, I- I know fucking better than that."
Max hums. It's no use telling her the truth everybody knows, that where was nothing else to be done in such a quick flash, because she knows it also. It would be worse to tell her Max's truth, that he is glad it is her hand, because another time, another session, there is always the risk it could have been her neck.
"Really," She laughs bitterly, "I'm meant to be proving I still got it, and instead I'm out here binning myself into walls, it's- It's fucking embarrassing."
She shakes her head viciously, and Max uses the hands he has there to still her, to press a kiss to the crown even if it means a mouthful of soap.
"You are not embarrassing," he says firmly, tucking a hand under her chin to tilt her head backwards. He kisses the curve of her nose too, while she looks up at him warily. "If you think this is enough to change Christians mind, then the only thing you are proving right is the IQ test we took in bed last week. Remember, the one that said I was smarter?"
There's a pause and then a startled laugh escapes her lips. Max grabs the cup where they keep their toothbrushes, side by side, to fill with water and rinse off her hair, laughing too.
"That quiz was bullshit," she's insisting, "I told you I wanted a rematch," and Max is nodding like they'll do anything other than curl around each other to sleep when they finally make it between their sheets. "Besides, I gotta convince Marko too, you know that."
It's true, she does. For now, Max tries to distract her from that fact by doing an extremely poor impression of an Austrian vampire, until she's making the water slosh over the side of the bath with her laughter, soaking him in the process. When her giggles have subsided, she looks up at him again with softer eyes.
"What?" He asks.
"You're right, Maxy," she says, "I am lucky to have you."
It takes Max a beat to retrace where in their conversation he said that.
"For the curl care?" He checks, rubbing conditioner into her hair even as he says it.
"Sure," she says, and her smile seems like a secret made for only the two of them to share, "let's call it that for now."
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peachfruitcake · 26 days
Note
did you hear about what Martin said about Susan and Linda on the Twitter space he hosted on the 27th? i thought of you instantly when he started talking about them and have been waiting for you to post your thoughts! :-)
HEHE YES IM THE ONE WHO’S QUESTION LED TO THAT!!!!!
Now for those who didn’t listen to that space, Martin said that Linda called her to say goodbye but never specified how it went of course. Besides “hey Susan I’m leaving sorry this is really impacting my mental health” “gaaaaaaaaaaey”/j
This is all a personal headcanon but I like to think that their friendship grew incredibly distant ever since Linda married Felix, Susan probably stopped talking to her altogether for a while and it would leave Linda very confused and upset. They might’ve started talking to eachother again a little bit as the series of events began to approach but only very brief small talk, maybe Linda complaining a little and giving Susan a few life updates and them both talking about stuff they’ve been noticing with others lately (especially Felix’s drinking), but nothing deeper than that.
I see Susan being extremely emotionally closed off to most people except maybe a select few that she knows very closely, so if you were to ask her what’s going on in her life she’d give you a very vaguely watered down version and not what’s actually going on or how she’s really managing herself emotionally.
So basically she used to be more open with Linda, but during that period she sort of just started treating her like a stranger.
So when Linda called her first to tell her that she’s finally leaving, Susan acted how she usually would, keeping it calm, understanding and respectful and wishing her luck, but she won’t really show any more than that. Or that she cried later and felt pretty bad that they couldn’t be so close anymore and that she’ll probably never be able to make up for herself acting so distant for the past many years again.
Of course this all comes from how I view Susan as a character myself though and also the fact that I refuse to pass up the idea that she has feelings for Linda. I like to think that she introduced her to Felix cuz Linda was getting more desperate to find a relationship and Susan was getting weird thoughts so in a panic she shoved her off to him so she could avoid the urges. They’ve been boiling within her since highschool and she always was able to push them aside or excuse them as “she’s just my very close friend I don’t have many close friends so she feels extra special” and as the years went by they began distracting her a lot from her work and were growing stronger and more unavoidable aaand they were really beginning to affect how she’d interact with Linda and you see Susan hates feeling like another has any control over her and Linda just wouldn’t shut up about hooooow badly she wants a relationship and hoooow many dates keep failing and Susan was at the point to where she was starting to get the kind of dreams that make you stare up at the ceiling in horror when you open your eyes in the morning so one day when she overheard Felix speaking about being single and wanting to start looking around, she decided to introduce her to him. Susan allegedly never finds a problem she can’t fix in some way so that was her solution.
They hit it off, Susan’s solution isn’t working for some reason cuz she doesn’t feel any relief at all and in fact feels worse but just sucks it up and just focuses on her work and looks the other way. Linda and Felix get married, Susan feels like throwing up the entire day and now feels somehow even more worse by now and suddenly whenever Linda wants to chat she’s suddenly always “busy” every time. Susan’s often busy anyways but you know yourself when there’s a difference between “shit I’m busy that day, let’s do Sunday instead” and “Sorry I can’t, I’m busy”, “I don’t know when I’ll be available.”
While Linda and Felix were dating, Susan probably assumed that she was just jealous that she couldn’t have a little fun at her age herself. When they got married, Susan told herself that she’s probably so depressed over it cuz it’s making her feel like she’s fallen behind others her age and that maybe she feels bitter that all of these people are moving on and going through these important life stages while she remains behind. Which made no sense otherwise cuz Susan couldn’t give any less of a fuck about starting any sort of family or going out. But that’s what Susan would tell herself that she feels so she wouldn’t have to think about it any further. By the time Susan thinks she’s over whatever it was, she begins having brief talks with Linda occasionally. Not often and still a bit distant, but way better than before.
So yeah can you imagine how shitty and guilty Susan felt that whole time of her weird bitterness toward Linda being in a relationship and not being able to approach her much anymore or how Felix turned out to be such a shitty husband.
If this headcanon is aligned with twf’s canon, she’d probably be dead before she even gets to actually acknowledge and accept her feelings as they are. Such is life though. Not like she could’ve done anything about it.
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fyreflys · 4 months
Note
Prompt if you’d like it! Peeta giving his cold to Katniss on accident but since she no longer has a spleen, it turns into a more flu like illness for poor Katniss and Peeta must nurse her back to health (similar to her caring for him in the cave but ya know… #married)
Oooo this is an adorable idea! And I got another prompt that I think I can include that would work perfectly together. MERGE TIME!
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Chicken Noodle Soup
(Katniss’s POV) - Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine
Everlark period/sick-fic, just fluff fluff fluff
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“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you sick.”
Is what Peeta keeps telling her. Constantly apologizing for transferring his cold. Even though Katniss didn’t even bother trying to keep her distance to avoid getting sick, so really it’s her own fault.
Katniss is pretty sure that no one ever really intentionally tries to get others sick, it’s always an accident. Happens as a result of what being sick means. And she knows Peeta didn’t do it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly have wanted to make her sick as a dog. So the fact that he keeps apologizing, as if there’s any possibility that he did do this on purpose, is beginning to make it feel like maybe he did. That, and it’s getting annoying. Very quickly.
“Peeta,” she groans, “Just- shut up.”
She doesn’t actually mean that. He’s really the only thing keeping her sane right now. She’s been bed ridden for three days now, and if her body didn’t feel like shit, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for a hike in the woods.
“Sorry.” He whispers, dabbing the wet washcloth on her forehead.
Yesterday Peeta dragged her to the doctor, because he’s convinced she’s dying. The doctor just confirmed it’s a bad cold, made worse by the fact that Katniss no longer has a spleen to help her immune system. He gave them some medication that “might” help, and then sent them on their way.
Needless to say, Katniss was not happy. Mostly because Peeta had dragged her out of the house when she felt like shit for no apparent reason.
Peeta was angry too. Kept mumbling something about “malpractice” and the doctor being an “idiot” and then trying to convince her that they need to go to the Capital, to see a “real” doctor.
“Peeta, I’m not sure if you have forgotten, but I’m in exile. Banned, to stay here in twelve for the rest of my life. So no, we cannot go to the Capital.”
She doesn’t mention the fact that she really doesn’t want to be re-reminded of all the terrible things that they’ve seen and had happen to them; most of which happened in the Capital.
“You’re the mockingjay. If something was majorly wrong with you, they’d have to save you.”
“I don’t want to be the mockingjay, anymore.” She’d grumbled as he tucked her back into bed, “and I’ve lived through worse than this.”
He frowned. Much like he is right now, as he looks at her with those big, blue, pleading puppy dog eyes.
“What?” She rasps.
He licks his lips. “I just…I’m so sorry you’re sick.”
She swears his heart is too big for his own good.
“You know what would make me feel better?” She sighs.
He perks up. “What?”
“Cuddle.” She whispers. She’d usually reach out to grab him, but her body feels too much like lead to exert that much energy.
He smiles. “I can do that.”
He peels back the bedsheets, and Katniss shivers at what feels like freezing air. He curls in behind her, gently squeezing her close. She melts against him. The arm around her warm and comforting. Until his hand slips under her shirt and his fingers start tracing patterns on her side, and he begins to pepper kisses to her shoulders. Despite them being small and gentle touches, her nerves feel overly sensitive with how feverish she is, and each soft graze almost feels painful.
“Stop- please,” she whispers, “that- too sensitive.” She mumbles.
“Oh. Sorry.” He places one more peck to her cheek, and then leaves her be.
She falls into sleep like a rock tossed down a ravine, skipping sleep entirely and diving straight into dreams. The world feels like it’s tilting and spinning around her as she dreams. They start out as strange and uncomfortable, but somewhere along the way they get more and more unhinged, twisted visions persisting, until finally-
She startles awake suddenly, eyes snapping open as she gasps for air. The nightmare feels plastered to her eyelids.
“Peeta?” She croaks softly, heart hammering in her chest as a tear slips down her cheek.
But she’s alone. Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She forces herself to reach across the bed behind her in search of him. But he’s not there either.
Momentarily she fears he’s abandoned her, but then she realizes that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.
She tries to shake the nightmare from her head. Desperately trying to imagine something else, like- Deer. Deer and squirrels, prancing through the forest. The nightmare was not real not real not real, as Peeta would say.
She takes a deep breath. Her entire body aches painfully. Specifically her lower back and her hips and- oh.
Even sick, and aching all over, she knows this feeling well.
“Damn it.” She huffs.
She supposes it was about time this happened again. She doesn’t bother keeping track. There’s no use with how irregular she is.
“Peeta.” She calls, but her voice is weak.
He doesn’t come. Where is he? She sighs. She’s going to have to do this herself, isn’t she?
She wills herself to gather any remaining energy she has to sit up. It takes a few minutes to convince herself.
I could just wait here, until he comes back-
No.
She sits up suddenly, impulsively, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. Her head spins, pain pounding through her skull. She coughs, clutching her head.
When the throbbing passes she manages to will her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. And then on the count of three she stands. She’s shaky, and the air is freezing agaisnt her feverish skin, and it’s awful.
Just get to the bathroom-
She makes it a few steps towards the door. And then she stumbles. She just barely catches the doorknob. She sends the door slamming closed as she falls.
“Katniss?!” Peeta shouts from down stairs.
She rolls over onto her back, and the world feels like it’s still spinning. He comes rushing into the bedroom, crouching down when he sees her.
“Oh my god are you okay?” Hands are immediately at her head, feeling for any bumps or bleeding, “What happened? Why are you out of bed?”
He sits and sets her head in his lap, brushing hair out of her face.
“Bathroom.” She whispers. “Just. Fell.”
“You should have called for me I would have helped.”
“I did.” She breathes, and even talking is exhausting. With Peeta right above her the world finally stops spinning.
He frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was making pasta.”
She takes in a breath through her mouth, nose too stuffy. “Bathroom.”
“Well- I think we should take a moment. You just- what, fell trying to walk? That’s pretty concerning,” He feels her forehead, “and you’re really burning up, gosh.”
She could have told him she had a fever. It feels like it’s radiating through her bones.
“Toilet,” her tongue clicks softly in her mouth, feeling dry, “Bleeding.”
“Bleeding? What- where? Why didn’t you say you were bleeding! Oh my god-“ he starts to shuffle, pulling at her clothes to find the source.
“Period.” She groans, just about fed up with him.
“Oh.” He pauses. “Right. Okay. Let’s get that taken care of then.”
He shuffles to sit her up against the wall, and then scoops her up bridal style. He carefully sets her down by the toilet, holding on as he pulls down her sweats and underwear in one fell swoop.
And yep- there it is. A massacre in her pants.
Peeta helps her sit, making sure she’s stable enough to sit up on her own. He pulls off her sweats and underwear, turning on the sink to set them in.
“Cold,” she whispers.
“Cold? You’re cold?”
Well- yeah, she kind of is. Despite feeling like she’s burning up from the inside, the floor and the toilet seat and the air is freezing against her skin. But she’s referring to the water.
“Yeah,” she breathes, “But-water. Cold water.”
“You need cold water? I can get you water. You’re probably thirsty you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”
Okay, yes, that too. She could use a glass of water.
“Yes, but- blood. Needs cold water.”
“Oh! Yeah, okay. Cold water. Right.”
She closes her eyes, slumping on the toilet as she pees. Peeta leaves to grab stuff from the bedroom. He returns with a fresh pair of clothes. He holds a cup of water up to her lips, and she sips. It feels like heaven down her throat.
“Thanks.” She breathes.
He just pecks her forehead. “How bout I run you a short bath? Luke warm. Try to get your body temp down. And you could really use a shower.”
She groans.
“I know- I know. But it will make you feel better, I promise.”
She just grumbles. He gets to work running a bath, and then scrubs the blood out of her underwear under the sink. He struggles to get a pad into the clean pair of undies, and Katniss finally wills herself to use the little energy she does have to show him. He kisses her cheek.
“Right. Got it. Now let’s get you in.”
She complains, but doesn’t have the energy to fight against him. He pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, and picks her up and sets her down in the tub. The water feels freezing at first. She yelps, clutching at him.
“I know- I know it feels cold but I promise it will help. You’re burning up Katniss. We need to cool you down.”
She holds onto him, and he presses kisses against her head. After a few minutes it starts to feel okay. He gently pours water through her hair. He scrubs in shampoo and rinses. He gently scrubs her with a warm soapy washcloth after he pulls the drain, just under her arms and between her legs, barely batting an eye at the blood. They’ve both seen enough of it for a lifetime. He turns on the shower head to rinse her off. The water feels like freezing needles against her overly sensitive skin. By the time he gets her out and finishes toweling her off she’s pissed.
She glowers at him from the toilet as he dresses her. He ignores her scathing eyes as he sprays in conditioner and brushes her hair, fumbling to put it in a makeshift braid.
“There! See, all better!” He smiles when he’s done.
She is not amused. Yes, her body feels less like a boiling fire, but she still hurts. And despite him doing all the work, she’s exhausted. But she’s too angry and stubborn to admit it, or even consider closing her eyes for some shut eye.
He chuckles. “You’re such a sourpuss when you’re sick, you know that?”
“That was hell.” She snips.
He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, okay Haymitch.”
He pulls her off the toilet and pulls up her underwear and pants. He gently scoops her up.
“You want to set up camp downstairs on the couch? That way it’s easier to get my attention if you need something. Also I’m making you soup.”
She gives a grunt, and winces as the pain that radiates up and down her spine and belly.
“I’ll grab you some painkillers.” He adds on.
She would usually turn those down. But at this point she’ll take them.
He gently lays her on the couch. He runs back upstairs to grab linens. He comes back down with arms full of blankets and pillows. He drops them in a heap on the floor. He leaves again. Katniss looses track of all the things he runs off and gets, eyes slipping closed.
He takes her temperature.
He hisses, “One o’ two. Yeah. You’re definitely getting meds.” Which he shoves into her mouth very shortly afterward. He tries not to look worried, but she can tell that he is. She’s worse than she was yesterday. He forces her to take the medication the doctor gave them the day before. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him.
He tucks her in under one blanket, but gives her plenty of pillows. He sets tissues and a glass of water on the side table next to her head. He kisses her forehead.
“Anything else you need?” He says softly.
Probably. But right now she’s exhausted. And talking is too much energy. So she just hums.
“Okay. Soup should be ready in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”
Truthfully, she wants him to curl in beside her on the couch and not leave her side. Because with him pressed against her, she has a semblance of relief.
Instead she just grunts. He pecks her forehead again, chuckling softly.
“Okay.”
And then she’s left alone. And despite being tired, she can’t seem to fall sleep. The pain is just too much. Enough that she’d toss and turn, but she doesn’t have the energy to do so. So instead she lays motionless in agony, waiting for meds to kick in.
It’s possible she does drift off. But it seems like each time her eyes open the grandfather clock by her mothers old bedroom door hasn’t moved an inch.
Finally Peeta reappears, with a steaming bowl in hands.
“Chicken noodle soup, for m’lady.” He bows, just for the dramatics.
He helps her sit up, and carefully spoons it to her lips. With how much pain shes in, the thought of food makes her nauseous. But Peeta coaxes her to eat. And she does. One small spoonful at a time. With how stuffed her nose is she can barely taste it, but what she does taste is good.
And it reminds her of the cave, in their first games. As she spoon fed him. Monitoring his leg. Trying everything she could think of to keep him alive.
Thankfully, now is nothing like that. This is peaceful, and warm, and safe.
With food in her belly she realizes how hungry she is. And she just about scarfs down the rest of the bowl, along with the hunk of bread he dips in the broth. And she feels like she has a little more energy.
“You want more?” He asks softly.
She shakes her head. She feels too full. Any more and she might puke.
“Your appetite is back. That’s a good thing.”
“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She grumbles.
“Like- actually?” He freezes, shifting as if ready to grab a bin.
“No- just- a lot of food. Nauseous from the pain.”
He frowns. “The pain meds should have kicked in already. You look better. Less pale.” He feels her forehead. “You don’t feel as hot.”
She winces. “Cramps.”
His face relaxes. “Oh.”
She closes her eyes. With a full belly she’s ready to pass out.
“What if…I tried to rub them out?” He says softly.
Her eyes flicker open lazily. “Please. And- my back- please.”
“Yeah, yeah of course.” He leans in press a kiss to her forehead.
He gently pushes her to lay down. He tugs up her shirt and pulls the waistband of her pajama pants lower.
“Where does it hurt?” He asks softly.
She slowly moves to touch, fingers almost feeling numb against her own skin as she traces just inside of her pelvic crests, and down below her belly button. His warm hands are still almost too much against her feverish skin when he reaches out. But she needs this.
He’s far too gentle.
“Harder,” she whispers, “like bread.”
He’s good at kneading bread.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“
“There’s no way you could make me feel worse than I already do. Please.”
And finally his palms and thumbs press in. She urges more, and more, and finally gets impatient and shifts his hands to press right there and- oh. It feels so good she actually moans.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”
“Shut up.” She gasps.
He grins wickedly. But doesn’t comment on any more of her breathless gasps as he digs in and finally gives her relief.
“When- you’re done,” she breathes, “gonna need- bathroom.”
He pauses, “Do you have to pee? I’m literally pressing like right on your bladder-“
“No- new pad.” Because he’s quite literally kneading the blood right out of her. Which would usually be disgusting, but right now the relief feels too good for her to care.
“Oh. Okay.” And he keeps going.
She nearly falls asleep with his hands on her stomach. She still hurts, and the pain still radiates through her bones, but the stretch of her cramping muscles is almost heavenly. She closes her eyes, and Peeta presses kisses to her shoulders, trailing down to her stomach. He rubs softly after he pulls back, hands sliding over her hips.
“You want me to do your back?” He asks softly.
She hums. He helps flip her over. His hands and fingers roam over her skin, pressing and pulling all the way up her spine and between her shoulders. She practically melts into the couch as he soothes her aches. His lips ghost over her skin in subtle kisses, and she never wants it to end.
Eventually he pulls away, tugging her shirt back down.
“Bathroom?” He asks.
She grumbles. “Don’t wanna move.”
He hums. He forces her off the couch anyways, and drags her to the bathroom. She changes things herself, and then he helps her back to the couch.
“I’m gonna eat and then we can snuggle. If you want. I can turn on the TV.”
She just grunts. He turns on the screen above their fireplace mantle, and flips through channels. He lands on a show they’ve binge watched over the years, and then leaves for the kitchen. She zones out the sounds and clatter that he makes. Finally he sits down by her feet with a bowl of soup, and her eyelids feel heavy. She drifts halfway between awake and asleep, until he curls up with her. He presses a kiss to her temple.
“Thank you.” She whispers. He’s done more than enough for her. And she knows he’d do everything if he had to. And she is thankful.
“Of course.” He breathes. And pecks her lips.
She smiles, and uses the little energy she does have to snake an arm around him and hold him close. Their foreheads knock together.
“I love you.” He breathes softly.
She hums, “Love you too.”
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janesociety · 1 year
Text
daddy issues, pt ii
tony stark x teen!reader
type: angst, hurt/comfort (?)
summary: you aren’t getting better- tony knows it, you know it, and so does everyone else.
word count: 2.5k
warnings: mentions of death and dying. reader is very sick. medical procedures like surgery and an iv.
pt i
marvel masterlist
✩ ✩ ✩
You were getting better. That’s what Tony had kept telling you, at least.
You weren’t all that convinced.
You woke up almost a whole day later with Tony’s hand in yours. He was always softer with you than other people, but not like this. He rarely left your side the entire time you were out, and once you woke up, he still seemed to check in on you regularly- sometimes for hours at a time.
Bruce eventually took you off the oxygen, but the IV remained in your arm- much to your dismay. He kept running tests, everything he tried coming up blank, but he wasn’t going to stop until you were better.
“You don’t have to sit in here all day and watch me sleep,” you spoke up one day as you groggily rolled onto your side. Tony set the book he was reading off to the side. “I won’t wither away just because you’re not here.”
“Oh, please, we all know you’d burn the place down if we left you alone long enough,” Tony said, adjusting his position in the plastic chair he was sitting in. “That’s why we had to put your room next to Steve’s- popsicles don’t burn, they melt.” You couldn’t help the laugh that flowed from your lips at the lame joke. Even if it was followed by a small coughing fit. “Take it easy, kiddo,” Tony said, scooting closer to your bed. “Don’t wear yourself out.”
You gave a small head nod in response, suddenly feeling weaker than before. Tony leaned back in his seat, picking his book back up.
“Tony?” you asked. He hummed in response. “Am I dying?”
“No, of course not,” he said, a little too quickly in your opinion.
“I’d want you to be honest with me if I was,” you said, playing with your fingers. The small act was making your hands ache, so you stopped, resting them over your stomach.
Tony reached over, careful to avoid the wires sticking out of you, taking your hand in his.
“You’re not dying, Y/N,” he said firmly.
You still knew he was lying.
Within the next two days, things only seemed to get worse. All the Avengers were now taking shifts by your side- usually with a lot of overlap as each lasted hours at a time. You’d been put back on oxygen when you began complaining of being so tired that it hurt to breathe.
You tried to put on a brave face for the rest of them, even if you could read all their faces and knew that they knew something you didn’t. You never cried or complained. You didn’t question anyone about you dying again, simply accepting it as a fact. Of course it was going to happen one day, but you couldn’t help that you were sad it was so soon.
“Please tell me you have something,” Tony said as he entered the lab adjacent to the med bay.
“I might,” he said, putting some scam results he took up on a board. “I think it’s connected to her powers. You see, she got them from HYDRA, right? Now that’s not easy- it takes advanced biotechnology to be able to give someone powers without killing them. You already know that, I suppose.” Tony resisted the urge to snap at Bruce for taking so long with his explanation. “Well, I think they installed some kind of self destruct along with. Like a biological timer to keep their ‘goods’ from being kept in the wrong hands.” Tony kept harsh eye contact with Bruce. “It’s causing her body to shut down.”
“But you can fix it, right?” Tony said, staring at the black and white images that meant nothing to him.
“We’re running out of time,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Once it gets past a certain point, it may… it may just be better to let her go.”
“No, we’re not doing that,” Tony said, barely letting Bruce finish and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Tony-“
“I promised her she wasn’t dying and I will not be made into a liar,” he said, harshly. Bruce looked away from him, the monitor on his desk displaying your vitals in the next room. Tony sighed. “Just tell me what you need. Doctors, staff, medical equipment- I can get you anything you need in the next two hours.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
You were pretty out of it for the next few days. When you were conscious, you were in pain, and when you slept, you were restless and often had nightmares. In the times you were awake, you were aware enough to know there was now a team of medical professionals checking in on you at all times. You felt like a guinea pig with how many people were constantly examining, touching, and prodding at you at all times.
Tony still stayed close, albeit a bit farther back after being snapped at by a doctor one too many times for being in the way.
Even if your eyes hardly opened for more than ten minutes at a time, you were always acutely aware of the number of people around you. Most of the Avengers sat with Tony around your bed and you kept hearing things along the lines of “go to bed, Nat,” and “we’ll come get you if anything changes, Steve,” and “if I fall asleep, wake me up when she does.”
You could hear the hushed whispers of doctors talking to Tony or Bruce over your head. You could hardly focus long enough to catch any of what they were saying, but when you heard a doctor say “Let’s step into the hall,” you knew it wasn’t good.
“Unless we can figure out what’s killing her,” Dr. Klein, an older woman and one of the best immunologists in the Northern Hemisphere, said, “we’re going to just be barely keeping her alive. Her quality of life is rapidly deteriorating and I believe she may be taking a turn for the worse.” Tony watched you through the window, surrounded by machines, doctors, and superheroes. “I thought I should let you know that it may be time to discuss hospice options in the event there’s nothing else we can do.”
Tony didn’t answer her. He just stood, watching you. He shut down any time anyone brought up you dying. He couldn’t help it. Imagining a world without you just seemed so impossible he couldn’t even fathom the reality he was being faced with.
Dr. Klein’s pager beeped and she excused herself, leaving Tony alone.
“Steve?” you said, your mouth dry from how long it’d been since you spoke. The others around the bed, including Steve, collectively stood and walked closer to you. You could tell Wanda, Bucky, and Sam were there and were somewhat surprised that Tony wasn’t.
“I’m here,” Steve said, taking one of your hands and leaning closer to you to hear your weak sounding voice.
“What’s going on?” you asked, not actually wanting to know what was going on, but rather wanting to have a conversation with someone. You hadn’t had much of a chance to speak to any of them and it was starting to get quite boring only being stuck with your thoughts and nightmares.
“You’re in the hospital still,” he said, stroking your hair back.
“Oh,” was all you could muster, mentally kicking yourself for sounding more confused than you were. You had to take a moment, the small sentences winding you. “Can you talk to me?” you croaked, your voice sounding scratchy. “All of you?”
“‘Course, doll,” Bucky answered, grabbing his chair and moving it forward. You mustered up a small smile, but it disappeared the moment it was there. The thought crossed his mind that he preferred it when you were screaming and thrashing, because then at least you could move. He mentally kicked himself for even comparing the two.
“Anything you want to hear about?” Steve asked. You wanted to say yes and list off all the things you wanted to talk about since you got sick, but your throat was already so sore from talking. You shook your head no.
Sam leaned forward in his seat. “Why don’t I tell you about mine and Bucky’s training session the other day?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile, seeing Bucky immediately turn red.
“Hey now-“
“C’mon, Buck,” Sam said, feigning offense, “you’re going to deny the girl this funny story just because she wasn’t there to experience it?” Bucky just shook his head. “Anyway, as I was saying…”
You tried to stay awake. You really did. But you kept nodding off anyway, jumping awake every few minutes to tell him to keep going.
“I can finish the story later, Y/N,” he said after the eighth time you’d fallen asleep.
“No, no,” you said, coughing slightly. “Just keep going. I want to hear your voice.” You took notice of Wanda’s silence, reaching out suddenly for her hand. She took it, squeezing it a few times as she tried to keep tears from her eyes. She’d already lost one sibling. She couldn’t lose another, even if you weren’t blood.
“So Bucky decided it was a good idea to get up again-“
“Excuse me,” a doctor said, rushing up to your bed with what seemed to be a whole medical team and a few other doctors you recognized behind him. “I’m sorry, I need you all to step back.” He was being quite rude with his tone, you thought. Everyone did as they were told, but you kept your feeble grip on Wanda’s hand.
“Ma’am-“
“Please,” you spoke up, staring weakly at him. He glared down at you.
“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. Nurses moved all around you, messing with the machines, your IV, one even shining a light in your eyes. You’d gotten somewhat used to people randomly walking up to you and poking at you or shoving things in your face, but with so many people it quickly became overwhelming. You squeezed Wanda’s hand tighter, beginning to shake a little.
Finally a familiar face appeared over you.
“Y/N,” Bruce said, leaning over your bed. “We’re gonna take you back to surgery, okay? Everything’s gonna be alright.” You began to shake more and Wanda put a hand over yours in a weak attempt to comfort you.
Tears were forming in your eyes, suddenly feeling the most scared you had been since you got sick.
“No,” you cried out weakly. “Please.” Tears streamed sideways down your face, either hitting the oxygen tube around your ears or your hair. Even if you were barely conscious most of the time, you wanted to be aware before you died. You didn’t want to go out on a metal table. The idea of not being able to feel yourself slipping terrified you.
“It’s going to be alright, you’re in good hands,” Bruce said as your bed began moving. Wanda’s hand slipped out of yours and you waved it around frantically trying to find hers again.
“No, please, no,” you whispered, barely processing where you were going. All you could see were the lights overhead as they rolled you down the hall. Everything else took too much effort to focus on. You came to a sudden stop in a dark room. Your cries became louder.
“Y/N, listen to me, sweetheart,” Bruce said, appearing in front of you again, “everything’s going to be alright. You’re going to be okay.” As he was speaking, someone removed your oxygen tube and put an oxygen mask over your face. “You’re alright.”
“You’re okay.”
“Everything’s alright.”
That was the last thing you remember.
Fortunately for you, the Avengers, and, by extension, Earth (because who knows what would’ve happened if they’d really lost you), you woke up a little over a day later.
You still felt sore- all the muscles in your body burning even as you laid flat on a bed. You were still exhausted. Beyond exhausted, even. Your eyelids and limbs are so heavy you could barely move. You could feel the now familiar feeling of an oxygen tube under your nose. It calmed you in some way.
The only real difference you could identify is you didn’t feel like you were being drained. Like the life was no longer being sucked out of you.
When you finally got your eyes opened, it took a minute for everything to come into focus. The overhead lights that had been on almost the entire time you were sick before were now dimmed, which you were thankful for considering being blinded was not the first thing you wanted to experience once you woke up. You turned your head slightly, still unsure of moving your body. The only person next to your bed now was Tony, just like the first time you woke up there.
He was holding your hand again, which you had to look down to realize because you were still trying to regain meaningful feeling in most of your body. He was asleep, slumped forward with his head resting on his arm against your bed. Slowly, you moved each of your fingers, eventually resulting in you squeezing his hand. It took him a minute to wake up- using his free hand to rub his eyes and check the time before he finally looked up and saw you staring back at him.
“Hey,” he said, leaning forward so he was closer to your head. He held your hand now in both of his so that it was next to his face. “How are you feeling?” You cleared your throat, not feeling the ache in your lungs you’d grown accustomed to over the long week.
“Amazing,” you said, cracking a smile. Your voice was weak and hoarse, but all Tony could focus on was the fact that your eyes were actually focusing on him- not in the distance, not nodding off, at him. He laughed at the absurdity of your response, and so did you, but you stopped once you realized his had turned to sobs. You didn’t know what to do at first. For one, Tony Stark was crying in front of you. Not only that, he was crying about you. And secondly, you were still feeling a bit drowsy from anesthesia and processing everything was taking just a bit longer.
“Tony,” you said, haphazardly moving your other hand to sit on top of his that were still around your other hand. “Please don’t cry.” He smiled, tears still running down his face as he rested his forehead on the stack of hands you’d both created.
“We thought we’d lost you,” he said, his shoulders still shaking as he squeezed your hand tighter. He looked up at you, his face red. You grinned at him.
“You didn’t really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?”
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wandering-winchesters · 11 months
Text
Never Forgotten
Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader
Word Count:
Summary: The reader left behind a friendship with Sam because of an abusive boyfriend. When they are reunited, will their true feelings for eachother be revealed?
Trigger Warnings: Domestic abuse, violence, injuries, mentions of death.
Requested: Yes, by anon. Not sharing the anon message here, spoilers.
A/N: Please mind the trigger warnings on this one. <3
Masterlist
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It was a rare occasion that Sam Winchester was not on my mind, his face, his kind touch and the way he would always listen to me. I miss him, terribly. We had been friends for close to two decades, our fathers were friends long before we even came to be. My father and his had a falling out, but Sam and I remained friends. The time we spent together as children resulted in some of my favorite memories, times that I still look back on fondly. We both left for college, our schools a few hours from each other. We stayed in touch, even when he dropped out. Our communication faltered, until I had cornered him and asked him what he was doing and why he was avoiding me.
This was when I learned about the supernatural world, something I could have gone my entire life not knowing about. I stayed in college, graduating a short time later. I had met my boyfriend in college, that was when everything changed. At first everything seemed normal, he was a jealous guy, but I found it endearing. Slowly, ever so slowly it got worse and he made me cut people out of my life. He would get angry when I would talk to friends, especially other men. So as much as it killed me, I cut Sam off. For a long time, Sam would still reach out. He would call and text me, checking on me, but I would ignore him. Out of all my friends, he tried the longest to get in touch with me. 
Then the verbal abuse turned into physical, it started out with him shoving me when we would fight. Then it turned to slaps, slaps turned to fists, fists turned to kicks. It all snowballed, at first the marks he would leave on my skin I could hide with clothing. The first time he gave me a black eye, I had to learn how to cover bruises with makeup. Once he saw that I could cover the injuries, he no longer cared about hiding it. His violence led to my loss of hearing, one ear now completely useless. There was nothing I could do now, everyone had left me and I was stuck. If I tried to leave, he would kill me. I had enough, I was giving up hope on ever leaving. Until tonight, we had come back to Kansas to visit some of my boyfriends friends. He had accused me of flirting with one of them, something I would never do. Once we got back to the motel, he took that as a good enough reason to beat me, my head still throbbing from the last punch he had thrown, a hard blow to my jaw. The second he shut the bathroom door, I had ran. Out the door to the room and down the familiar dark streets. My heart and lungs screaming with every step, but I didn’t care. The chill of the rain, not a concern. My feet knew where I was going before my brain did. I only realized when I turned the corner and was face to face with the bunker. I stop in my tracks, the sight of the run down concrete building and the impala parked outside almost enough to bring me to my knees. I steel my nerves, my chest heaving from exertion and anxiety, the only sound in my ears the rush of my own blood. I cover the distance to the door, my knuckles rapping against the door before I can think twice. I almost lose hope when no one answers, a minute passes and then two. Before the door slowly opens, a crack forming, the barrel of a gun poking through. I wait, unmoving, frozen from fear of the person on the other side of the door not being a Winchester. The door is thrown open, the gun lowered and its, Dean. His face twisted in utter confusion as he says my name, his eyes glancing over my disheveled appearance. 
“Sam! Get out here!” He yells, his voice loud enough to make me jump. He steps to the side and gestures for me to come inside. The warmth of the bunker, is barely enough to take the edge off. My clothing is soaked and chills are emanating through my entire body. His eyes don’t leave me for a second, the gun that had been pointed at me moments earlier, tucked safely into the waistband of his pants. My gaze is drawn to the hallway as I hear footsteps approaching and Sam comes into view, but he doesn’t see me right away. His attention focused on his brother. 
“Dean, what’s the ma-“ He stops, his eyes finally landing on me. His face is mixture of multiple emotions. Shock, concern, anger and utter confusion. 
“Y/N.” My name falls from his lips, a whisper, barely traveling the distance to my ears. I hug my arms to my body, a shiver making its way through once again. 
“Hi, Sammy.” I give him a small smile, my voice tiny and shaky. It takes him two full strides to cross the room, his arms coming to wrap tightly around me. I am caught off guard by his actions, fully expecting the third degree before he even acknowledged the past friendship that we shared. It takes me a full five seconds before I hug him back, relief flooding through me. God, how I had missed this man. His embrace bringing back a rush of nostalgia that I had done my best to forget, I never thought I would see him again. He pulls away, holding me at an arms length and looking me over from head to toe. I watch the creases deepen on his forehead when he sees the gash on my cheek and the bruise slowly forming on my jaw. His fingertips brush over the marks, questions forming in his eyes. 
“Where have you been? I went looking for you, I tried to find you. I knew something had to be wrong when you stopped responding to me.” He says, his eyes searching my own for any explanation. 
“It’s a long story Sam.” I say, my body continuing to punish me for remaining in my drenched clothes. He notices, gesturing for me to take my jacket off. While I do that, he grabs a blanket from the shelf nearby and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth it provides a slight comfort in this moment.
“I’ll let the two of you catch up, I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Dean says, leaving us alone. Sam takes my hand, pulling me gently behind him. He leads me to the kitchen, my eyes taking in every part of my surroundings. Not much had changed since the last time I was here, everything still in the same place. 
“Sit on the counter, I’ll get you cleaned up.” Sam says, his voice gentle but firm all the same. I comply, resting my hands on the counter and lifting myself up onto the cold surface. He is silent as he pulls the first aid kit out of the cabinet, I watch his every movement, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the anger he must be holding at, waiting for the dam to break and his surprise to turn to violence. But that doesn’t happen, his touch is gentle as he gingerly cleans the cut on my cheek. His fingers gently move across my skin, cleaning and then bandaging my face. Only after he is done and satisfied with his work, does he speak. 
“Coffee?” He asks, and I nod, eager for any source of warmth. The bone chilling cold still settled deep within me, the blanket helping but not fully relieving it. 
“Sam?” I say, watching him move efficiently around the small kitchen, grabbing all of the things he needs to make a coffee. He hums in response, his eyes meeting mine momentarily before focusing on the task before him. 
“I owe you an apology, I didn’t want to shut you out. I missed you every single day.” I say, my voice breaking towards the end. I clear it, pushing away the tears that are threatening to form in the corners of my eyes. He is silent, he finishes making my coffee and hands me the mug. I gratefully take the mug from him, holding it up to my face and letting the warm steam wash over me. 
“Where were you, Y/N?” 
“Tennessee, then Nevada, then Maine. We moved around a lot, avoided too many questions.” I say, taking a sip from the steaming liquid, I am pleasantly surprised when it is made exactly how I like it. He hadn’t forgotten. 
“Who is we? What questions?” He asks, his arms coming to rest across his chest. I hesitate, unsure how to explain everything that had happened over the two years since we had spoken last. 
“Do you remember the guy you met when you came to visit me last? The one from my Biology lab?” He nods and I continue, “Well we started dating shortly after you met him. I moved in with him, and-“ I hesitate, memories flooding through me from the times before things got bad. I shake my head and glance up at him. He is waiting, his eyes trained on me. Listening, just like he always did. “Well. He wasn’t the guy I thought he was. He would get angry over the smallest things, it started out as really bad arguments. Which turned into him verbally abusing me. He couldn’t stand it when I talked to anyone other than him. So I stopped talking to everyone, I had to. Even that wasn’t enough for him. He moved from berating me, to beating me.” My eyes fall to the floor, shame washing over me as I continue to explain where I had been. I couldn’t hold his gaze, I felt weak reliving all of the moments that I had kept hidden from everyone. He stays silent, letting me get it all out. I can’t bring myself to look at him, so I take another sip of my coffee. Dreading the complete silence that has settled between us.  “I could kill him. I should kill him. I thought you were dead, I searched the obituaries for your name every day, for months.” Sam finally says, crossing the room to stand directly in front of me. His hands land on my knees, his thumbs rubbing circles on my skin through the thick fabric of my jeans. I look up at him, his words catching me completely off guard. My lip trembles and before I can stop them, tears are falling quickly. He frowns, and pulls my head into his chest. His arms coming to wrap around me again as I slide down from the counter, allowing myself to be swallowed in his embrace.  “I am so sorry, I missed you, Sam. Every day.” I exhale, a sob following shortly behind. He strokes my back, his touch and smell something that I never fully comprehended how much I had missed them. 
“It’s okay, I’ve got you now and nothing will change that.” He says, pressing a kiss to the top of my hair. 
The few hours are spent together, he gives me dry clothes to change into and leaves me to take a shower. He sits outside the bathroom door, giving me my privacy but he is close enough for me to know he is still there. I take my time in the shower, enjoying the warmth that it brings. After my shower I join him in his room and we spend hours catching up, taking turns listening intently to the other. Even though so much time had passed, it felt like nothing when we started thinking back to our many shared adventures. It had been a long time coming, this reunion I had dreamed of but never thought would happen. That night we share a bed, not the first time it had happened and I’m sure it won’t be the last. We doze off between conversation, exhaustion taking over shortly after the blankets come to rest covering our bodies. Sam is there when I wake, sweat soaked and screaming. He is quick to pull me into his embrace and remind me that I’m safe. His arms are wrapped tightly around me, lips pressed to my forehead as he murmurs comforting words against my skin. The sense of safety lulls me back to sleep and just before I’m swallowed up by the darkness it brings I hear him whisper four words that will change the rest of our lives for the better. 
“I love you, Y/N.” 
tag list: @roseblue373
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sunnynwanda · 5 months
Text
Making amends
Hero throws the car without even a glance back. They know Villain can take a hit - they've taken a lot worse than that. Hero can recall throwing an entire food truck at them and not causing any damage whatsoever. Their rivalry, for the lack of a better word, goes back to what Hero calls times immemorial - high school, more precisely. They had always been somewhat irritated by each other - yet still enticed to rub the other the wrong way. Mostly for enjoyment but also because they liked the feeling.
Hero has never seriously harmed or wounded them, nor did they aspire to do so. Except the stars must have aligned against them today because Villain is too distracted fixing their fabulous (their word, not Hero's) hair to react in time.
The car lands on top of them with a loud thud and a strained whimper followed by a slew of curses. It reaches Hero's trained ear, prompting them to look over their shoulder. They spot the car and notice their enemy's legs sticking out next to the front wheel. They freeze for a second before sprinting over and lifting the destroyed vehicle while Villain attempts to get up, coughing and muttering cusses under their breath. It's only then that Hero notices the strange angle of their arm. They know they fucked up when a strangled moan leaves Villain's mouth at the first attempt to move it.
Three days later, Villain is back in the game despite the cast now adorning their fractured forearm. And Hero... Hero cannot bring themselves to meet their gaze for a good week after.
It's almost ten days since the incident, and they are doing their usual play round around the city when Villain stumbles back after a particularly nasty kick, unable to counter the attack. They wave their healthy arm for balance and barely dodge the next one when Hero, as oblivious as they are, picks the worst time for banter.
"What is it, dove? Thought you could take a hit." The words leave their mouth before they can process the implications. They bite their tongue, but it's too late.
Villain's eyes widen momentarily before turning into vicious slits. "Oh really?"
Venom drips from their voice, although Hero can see the smirk fighting for its place on their thin lips. An angry and ominous smirk they do not want to explore. "I could. Before a certain asshole decided to break my fucking arm."
"I said I was sorry!" Hero exclaims, seizing the attacks and darting back to avoid Villain's fist. They did this to themselves, and they know it too. Should've kept my mouth shut, Hero thinks. They did not mean to mock - it just came out wrong and opened the floodgates of Villain's outrage.
"You don't seem sorry, judging by those cocky comments of yours!" Villain retorts, charging forward. Hero sidesteps, scared to cause any more damage.
"Oh, come on!" As if they weren't feeling guilty as is, Villain is now rubbing it in. "You know I didn't do that on purpose."
"Doesn't make my arm heal faster, does it? Nor does it stop you from questioning my competence." Villain's voice betrays them, wobbling on the last word. To say that Hero is shocked is an understatement.
"I never..." They stop mid-sentence, searching their rival's face and gulping at the defeated expression on their downcast face. "Please, look at me, Villain. I really am sorry."
When they don't react, Hero continues. A horrible decision on their part. "We can cancel our fights for a while, hm?"
That does earn them a reaction. Not the one they were hoping for though.
"Why?" Villain's eyes dart to their face, meeting Hero's with seething challenge. "You think I can't handle you with one arm?"
The wise thing to do would be to seal their lips and never utter a word again. But Hero was never known for their quick wits, so they chose to seal their fate. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Or maybe I could..."
"What?" Villain's stare is ice cold. Their voice is calm too - serene, almost. Yet it sends a chill down Hero's spine. "You could what, Hero? Say it, I fucking dare you!"
"I wasn't..." They try to salvage the situation despite their mind screeching at them to stop talking.
"You weren't going to say you'd go easy on me?" Villain inquires, still maintaining external tranquillity. There is a fire raging behind their gaze, white-hot and scorching. They marvel Hero's audacity to doubt them.
Hero is speechless. At their own stupidity. At the way they can't seem to control their fucking mouth. At the way they froze like a goddamn deer in headlights. And a tiny bit - at the way their words offended Villain so deeply. Somehow, in all the years of their rivalry, they never grasped just how much their opinion mattered to their frenemy.
"Can't even deny it?" Villain sighs, running a hand through their hair to suppress the urge to rip Hero into pieces and make a coat out of them. "You know what? Fuck you."
Villain turns to leave, not quite sure if they are mad or disappointed. This seems to bring Hero back to life and consciousness. "No, wait!" They chase after them, but Villain won't slow their pace, striding away with determined heavy steps. They count to three and can't help the sigh that escapes them when Hero stops them. Knew it.
"Please, I swear I didn't mean it like that!" Hero yells to their turned back, struggling to catch up because they keep tumbling over their own feet. "Dove, please, I'll make it up to you."
Villain's lips stretch into a smug smile when Hero comes to a halt next to them, clutching their hand in their shaking fingers.
"Oh, you will." They nod to themselves, content that their plan, as painful as it was, worked out. But when they meet Hero's hopeful eyes and allow them to graze their fingertips over their fractured limb, the ache subsides, slowly dissipating under the gentle touch of their cold skin. "You will."
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