#so yeah. i walked home in the freezing cold & dark fucking sobbing an hour and ten minutes after what was supposed to be like a 30 min thing

[winglesshopeful]

I don't want to see another phlebotomy needle anywhere near me for as long as i can get away with.

#one fucker misses a vein. bursts another perfectly good one. gets a second dr in. misses a vein. fucking sewing machines my damn arm looking #all of it hurts like a motherfucker. #tells me 'hurrb well get another appointment in 6 month. in the meantime come in again this fking week to get shanked when our REALLY good- #- phlebotomists are here!' proceeds to abruptly leave the room and forget about me there for 10 fucking minutes. #then the others take 10 more minutes to try to figure out wtf to do with me. schedules me for an appt i can't even make. #but let's rewind to that 'REAL good' comment: are you FUCKING joking? do these ppl save the mediocre phlebotomists for the end of the day?? #are yall letting maniacs who can't find a damn vein just fucking pincushion anyone who needs blood work or is that just for the trans ppl? #so yeah. i walked home in the freezing cold & dark fucking sobbing an hour and ten minutes after what was supposed to be like a 30 min thing #needle mention #medical mention

[prismatica-the-strange]

Wander Streets at Night, Fighting Just to Breathe

Warnings: 18+, drowning, vomiting, death mentions, angst

Synopsis: Stelle gets caught in yet another Spider-man bridge fight, only to get thrown into the Hudson.

Pairings: The Amazing Stella Lovette

Song: Alkaline by Timeflies

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She always is.

It's like some kind of curse you get when you're close to Spider-man, you always get caught in the crossfire.

Her cab gets rear ended on the Washington bridge on her way home, and she gets out to try and catch another.

And of course, of course, as she tries to wave down another ride, pulling the collar of her coat up to brace against the icy November wind, someone grabs her.

She feels the cold sharpness of a blade against her throat. It presses harder when Spider-man lands in front of them.

If Peter ever said he was surprised whenever his girlfriend got herself caught up in his vigilantism, he'd be lying. But that isn't to say he's not shocked every time it happens.

"Hey, man, let's leave the little lady out of this."

"J-just leave me alone."

Her heels scrape against the cement as the man edges towards the rail.

"Okay, okay," Peter puts his hands up non-threateningly, "Just let her go, and we can talk this out, yeah?-"

"No! I'm not talking shit through!" The knife digs into her skin, "You walk away, you let me go, or she dies."

"You don't have to do this," he takes a step closer and the man clocks him just about to shoot a web.

And suddenly she's in a freefall.

It's immediate, the pain, as soon as she hits the water. The same stinging burn as putting your hand in the salted ice water when making ice cream in an old crank machine when you're a kid in the middle of summer, but worse. So, so much worse.

Every nerve in her body is on fire, she can't move, can't even tell which way is up.

The impact forces the air from her lungs, only for them to be then filled with freezing water when her body inhales reflexively.

It's dark, it's cold, she can't breathe.

She doesn't want to die, not now, not like this. But she can't get her limbs to move, can't fight her way to the surface. It's not long until the dark, murky water turns black.

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

"No, no, no, no, no!" Peter drags her out the water and onto the rocky shore of the river, "Stelle, baby, wake up!"

He throws his mask to the side and presses his ear to her chest. She's not breathing, her heart's not beating.

"God, Stelle, no!" He panics, holding her face in his hands. It takes him longer than it should to remember how to do CPR.

"Okay," he says, adjusting her body, taking a second he doesn't have to push her hair from her face, "I'm gonna fix this, okay? I'll fix it."

There's no one else around, he's the only hope she has, his hands interlocked, pressing hard into her chest.

"C'mon, Stelle-Bell, wake up," One, two, three, four, "Wake up for me, baby, please!"

Seconds feel less like minutes, but hours.

"C'mon baby, please. Please," he yells, drops of river water from his hair mix with frustrated tears, "Come on, you gotta wake up, Stelle! I need you to wake up!"

"Estella please!" He starts to lose rhythm, begging her not to leave him, "Please, I-... I can't do this without you..."

His body shudders as he sobs and pleads, "Baby please, please, please don't leave me I-"

She starts to cough, hacking and choking up dirty water. It's not pretty, but it's the most beautiful thing he ever seen, eyes wide as he helps her on her side.

She tries to breathe, clawing at her throat as more water forces it's way out of her.

He rambles praises, "Just like that, good, get it out, breathe baby" his lips against her wet hair.

After a few minutes of vomiting up the Hudson, she slumps against him, energy gone.

"Fuck," His breath shudders and catches, "I thought-... I thought I lost you."

He holds her closer when she trembles in his arms and croaks out a strained "Cold."

"Right, c'mere baby," he holds her tight and pulls his mask on.

He 'borrows' a coat from a rack outside a store and makes record time getting to the hospital. He doesn't even notice at first that it's May he hands her off to, too distracted begging whoever is closest for help.

And he forgets that he's wearing his mask when another nurse wheels her away and May insists he sit down, wrapping a warm blanket around his damp shoulders.

It isn't until he goes to wipe his tears does he realize she thinks he's Spider-man, and that he should leave, go change and come back as her nephew.

But he doesn't change, he tracks down the man that nearly killed his Stella, breaking his nose and arm, and dropping him at the precinct.

It's over an hour later, and he knows May has probably been trying to get ahold of him, but the backpack with his phone in it is webbed to the side of Washington bridge.

When he does finally wander his way back to the hospital, hair still damp, she rips into him.

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't have signal, May please, I need to see her."

Stelle is still awake when he finds her in the ER, and it's a tie to see who starts crying first.

He swoops in with the biggest hug, his face buried in her shoulder, tears and snot running down his face, onto her hospital gown.

Her hand, still shaking with shock and anxiety, tangles itself in his hair, keeping him close as she sobs with him.

"I'm sorry," he hiccups, "I'm so so sorry. I could've been quicker. I shouldn't've even let him touch you, Stelle, I'm sorry."

She doesn't speak, she can't, her throat too raw to even try, but she hugs him tighter. Lets him know through her loving embrace that she doesn't blame him at all.

That's how she falls asleep, wrapped tightly in his arms where he knows nothing can hurt her. Where the only thing that can touch her is him, his love.

He would do anything for her, anything to keep her safe, even dive headfirst into the Hudson river when it's freezing out. She's his everything, and he almost lost her tonight.

That thought alone brings another fresh wave of tears to his eyes and he buries his nose into her shoulder. And even though she's asleep, he lets himself tell her, "Don't you ever do that to me again, you understand? I love you way too much to lose you."

#the amazing spider man #the amazing stella lovette #prisma writes #prisma self ships #tasm!peter parker #tasm!Peter Parker x OC #peter parker #Tasm!ansgt #angst #hurt/comfort

[janshu]

Inu!Bakugo...for @ultimate-astridwriting's Hybrid collab!

Summary: My part of the hybrid collab. I had so much fun writing an angry Pomeranian Bakugo. 10/10 would do again. I'm not completely happy with it but who ever is? I'm still proud of myself!

Word count: 2.2k.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Bakugo being an ass, sexual content, somnophilia, collars, choking, humping, creampie, name calling (bitch, slut, whore etc.), use of the word cunt.

You sigh as you rummage around in your pocket to produce the key to your home. After a long day's work all you want to do is get some dinner, take a bath and go to bed but none of those things would be possible would they?

No, not after the spur of the moment decision to adopt a hybrid of all things. The week earlier was one of torrential downpours and near freezing temperatures, the roads making a slushy substance of half-melted ice and salt to prevent the very thing it was being mixed in with. People stayed indoors the best they could when they weren't at work but life had to shit on you and make your car breakdown in the parking garage. Umbrella rested on your shoulder, rain boots on your feet with your spare in your bag and you trudged through cold, mushy hell back home. The streets were barren as a Walmart on a weekday at 4am, no life passing by you until you crossed an alley between two businesses. A pathetic whimper had caught your attention and your gaze drifted down to a soaked cardboard box. What was in that box you weren't sure if you should curse or love. A hybrid.

Narrow red eyes stared at you in suspicion, fangs bared at you but the creature didn't make any attempts to nip at your fingers when they neared to ruffle the spikey head of hair. The hybrid had leaned into your touch before recoiling away as if you had smacked him. The black and orange collar had seen better days, the charm that dangled on the hollow of his neck read "Dynamite" but he didn't give any indication that was his name when you repeated it outloud. He was barely dressed in anything, a thin t-shirt, shorts with ragged Converse that had more holes than Swiss cheese. Truthfully he looked a few days away from starvation and how could you keep that on your conscience if you left him there? After laying your warm coat over his shoulders you somehow, someway, managed to get him back to your place. Everything went downhill from there in the blink of an eye.

The weak puppy persona was gone the moment warm food settled in his belly and within the hour he acted as if you had crowned him king of the house. Beginning his rambles of curses, demands and biting at your fingers. The worst of it happened when you tried to take his collar off for a new one, one that wasn't frayed and barely hanging on. "Katsuki" as he spat out his name with enough venom to put a Black Mamba to shame had flipped over a coffee table, ripped up every couch cushion and went so far to chew on the linoleum on the kitchen floor.

No doubt you'd be greeted with the same sight as always. Messy, dirty, unknown stains everywhere and dishes still in the sink waiting to be moved to the washer. Maybe if he wasn't such a loud ass you could train him but your frazzled nerves were at their wits end. You didn't know what to do, you were about to throw in the towel and put him up for adoption. Yep, you were disappointed to be proven right. Katsuki reclining on the couch lengthwise, remote in his hand with the most bored expression on his face while idly flipping through channels.

"Fucking finally, you're home! I've been waitin' for fucking hours for your ass to get back! I'm hungry, get your shitty ass in the kitchen and make dinner." He barked. Barely giving you any time to hang up your coat and slip off your shoes before his orders began.

"Katsuki...I can't, not tonight." Could your voice portray anymore pleading? Apparently not because he didn't seem to notice, or care.

The fluffy ear at the top of his head only flicked in response, the top lip curling into his signature snarl. "Then what the fuck are you good for? Get your fucking ass in that god damn kitchen and fucking make dinner already."

All that you were good for? All that you were good for? How dare he! He's been freeloading off you for a week now without so much as a thanks for saving him from the streets, feeding him, clothing him, keeping him warm and dealing with his bullshit and this is how he repays you?

"I've fucking had it with you!" Your voice rose higher than you meant to but at this point you didn't care, a line had been crossed. "You fucking sit there and ruin my shit and yet I'm the useless one? I have half a mind to kick you out! You can make your own fucking dinner, I've had it! I'm done! I can't take this anymore!"

Despite not having any clunky shoes on your feet still managed to resonate in the small living room while you stormed past the couch. You had expected anything, anything at all. A slap, a punch, a groan, literally anything but you were met with only silence and that somehow pissed out off even more. How could silence be so infuriating?! You didn't even notice the terror that washed over his face as you screamed at him or the way his chest heaved with the sob or how he trembled underneath your wrathful gaze as you walked away. The bedroom door slamming made short work of that.

"Fuck I'm such an ass.." You mused to yourself already regretting blowing up at him but what would an apology do that wasn't already broken? So better yet why not send yourself to bed without dinner as some kind of punishment? He'd linger at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at you with those intense eyes if you made dinner anyways so why let him win? He could his own shit for fucks sake!

After a quick shower to dethaw your bones and warm up what was left of your dead soul the softness of your pajamas helped ease the guilt gnawing away like a puppy on its first bone. Laying in bed until sleep eventually overcame you and when he knew it was safe to slip in and sneak over towards your bedside.

Rustling was what woke you. The rustling of clothes and the jingle of something metallic in the darkness of the bedroom. Whatever grogginess you normally suffered when waking up was vanishing the more details were dissected and understood by your half-asleep brain, a process that took an embarrassingly long time. Clothes rustling, the bedsheets moving, heavy pants and something incredibly warm nudging up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Naturally your brain assumed the worst and your eyelids flew open to show nothing; at first. As your eyes adjusted to the pitch black room they found the blazing stare of those vermillion eyes, the bared fangs that belonged to your hybrid.

What the hell was Katsuki doing on top of you?

Noticing that you were awake the snarl turned into a smirk as he huffed, his large chest expanding with each desperate pant. Why did your folds feel so good just as you were waking up?

"Feel that?" How could you not? The feel of a scorching cock bumping up your folds and sensitive clit, wet from the pre leaking from the tip. There was so much of it from what you could feel, too sticky to be your own. His hips had yet to cease moving, no word from your shocked form to still his rutting hips.

"W-what the hell are you doing?" Was the most logical question your brain could come up with in the moment.

"Humping...fucking dumbass." His warm breath created goosebumps on your cool skin, his head must've been so close to yours by the hair tickling your forehead. "Tryin'ta...help ya. Shitty woman.."

"Help? How the fuck is this helping?"

"You've been working so hard so I thought maybe...a good fuck would calm ya down, relax ya." Katsuki's voice was so desperate, so needy, the humping of his cock on your labia increasing.

He was trying to help? He was going to fuck the frustration out of you? Is that was he was offering? Having sex with a hybrid was common enough to not be considered taboo but you couldn't help but feel he was trying to worm his way into your good graces. Unless your words had struck some kind of cord with him. "Okay, alright, I'll let you help."

"Fuck yeah!"

With that the head of his cock nudged against your cunt, already spread and waiting for him. How long had he been doing this for? The burn of the stretch was delicious, he was just big enough to fill you up but not hurt. Settling right up to kiss the tip of your cervix when he bottomed out. His hands grip at your thigh and hip, pulling his back to slam his cock right back into you. Over and over, over and over, over and over. Practically using you as a fleshlight to get himself off but damn if it didn't feel good, him bouncing you on his cock so roughly each thrust was sending the headboard against the wall.

"Oh fuck...oh fuck, Katsuki!" Your hands pat around and eventually find his biceps and you cling on for dear life, your nails digging crescent shaped markings into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah...you like this form of stress relief, don'tcha you dirty slut?" Undoing the collar around his neck the frayed cloth of the strap is tied around your neck, the buckle clamping down tightly to constrict your airflow while two fingers slip under it to pull and tug. "You're my dirty fucking slut! Mine...mine...mine...mine, fucking mine!"

Your fingers trailed down the tiny amount of space between your bodies down to the precious, neglected nub between your legs. Barely able to wiggle your index and middle finger down there from the rabid fucking you were receiving to circle the bundle of nerves and send yourself over the edge. Each clap of your thighs smacking against each other forcing your hate for his behavior ebbing away. If he was going to act like this all the time how could you kick him out?

"F-fuck! Gonna cum...fucking cum..cum for me. Cum with me!" Katsuki snarled as the pressure around your throat increased. Your hand was smacked away from your clit and was replaced with the large pad of his thumb, frantic circles sending your body into a writhing mess of flails and kicks.

The orgasm that had been steadily building from your ministrations had been ripped away and replaced with one quickly approaching to push you over the edge. The white hot pleasure-coil that formed underneath your belly button snapped and all of it coursed through your system in one go. Paralyzing your body for a split second as you squirted all over the hybrids cock, his still rubbing hand sending the liquid everywhere. Coating his thighs, your thighs and the bed underneath you.

"Fucking fuck! Such a whore, such a dirty girl for me! Oh my fucking g-god!" One last slam of his hips and his own body stilled, burying his cock deep inside your cunt to shoot his cum deep in your womb. He stuttered before his body collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his sweaty muscles.

Bathing in the afterglow, coming down from your high you could've sworn you heard something. Mumbling, soft mumbling too indistinct to understand. Katsuki's head laying on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone and was he laying kisses here and there? No, you must've been seeing things. Still buried to the hilt he turned his head to speak, his fluffy ears perked and his tail gently swishing behind him. The sudden light from your phone illuminated the room, casting light on Katsuki's face and the sight made your breath hitch in your throat. Clearly he had been crying. Tear stains streaked down his cheeks, brows knitted together and the same lost look he had plastered on his face appeared again.

"Please, please don't kick me out. I'll do anything, please...please don't abandon me. Not again." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he hid his face in your neck. Voice breaking, shoulders trembling, the verge of crying all over again quickly approaching.

Your heart broke and you returned the favor by hugging him around the shoulders, a hand carding through his hair to soothe him. Had he been abandoned? Did his previous owners not like him? Was all his aggressiveness some kind of defense mechanism? Was he giving you a reason to kick him out to keep himself from experiencing that kind of pain again? Oh, poor baby. "Never again...just don't destroy things anymore, okay? Help me around the place a little more will ya?"

"Yes." Katsuki snuggled on top of you. Finally believing he had a real home with you, a place where he could belong. "....Master."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo #inu bakugo #hybrid bakugo #hybrid au #bakugo katsuki x reader #x reader #tw:nsfw #tw:hybrid #tw:humping #tw:creampie #tw:collar #tw:choking #tw:naughty words #tw:name calling #tw:somnophilia

[i-am-robie]

 Thanks to @coffeeshib​ for letting me steal the amnesia + wife prompt... I couldn’t help myself. This is not what I thought would come out (content warning for canon typical violence and injuries), mostly this is just Kara being a whole entire idiot and Alex facepalming and Lena just being glad Kara is there for her, as her fake wife while she recovers from another quarterly attempt on her life:

“Supergirl! You have to go!” Alex is yelling at her as they roll Lena into the emergency room at National City General, but Kara is rooted to the spot - she can’t look away. Lena is pale, too pale, and there’s blood all over her dress, cuts and scrapes and bruises already blooming on every piece of exposed skin. She isn’t moving, isn’t breathing on her own right now; the only air making its way into her body is through the ambu bag being operated by a nurse, as women and men in scrubs crowd around the moving gurney, shouting orders. And all of that is terrifying enough, but it isn’t the thing that’s paralyzing Kara.

The reason Kara can’t move, the reason that she is barely breathing, is that she can’t hear Lena’s heart.

“Kara.” Alex is closer now, she steps gently in front of her sister, dropping her voice so that no one else can hear her. “Kara, you have to go, they’re getting away.”

“Alex - “ Kara takes a step forward, as if to walk around her sister, to head towards the doors that Lena and the medical team are disappearing behind.

“I know, Kara, I know,” Alex says, gentle and quiet. The doors shut, and Kara’s eyes snap away from it to her sister's face. Alex looks as terrified as Kara feels; she’s wearing an expression Kara has only seen on her before when it’s Kara who’s hurt. “You can’t do anything for her right now. But you can get the guys who did this.” She reaches for Kara’s arm, squeezes - the pressure is grounding. “You need to go. You need to go right now.”

So Kara goes.

__________________

She returns seven hours later, after dropping the men who carried out the attack on Lena at the DEO and declining to help in the interrogation. She nearly killed them, doesn’t think she has the stomach to listen to them talk. She’d still been in the field when the hospital reached out to let her know that they’d been able to stabilize Lena, restarting her heart, but that she hasn’t woken up yet. Alex had relayed the message to her, but now Alex only shakes her head when Kara asks if there are any updates.

Her sister pulls her aside when Kara says that she’s going to hospital to talk to the doctors, telling Kara quietly that she needs to go home and clean off her suit. When Kara looks down, she sees that Alex is right. She’s covered in blood - some of Lena’s, some of it the men she’s apprehended, none of it hers. It makes her want to sob.

But when she gets out of the bathroom after showering, pulling on soft joggers and a hoodie, Kara finds that she can’t settle. Every time she closes her eyes, every time she blinks, she sees Lena’s lifeless body in the rubble that had been her office, can feel Lena in her arms the moment her heart stopped, and the fact that Lena is supposedly stable doesn’t help at all because she hasn’t woken up.

What if she never wakes up?

Suddenly, Kara can’t breathe. Her chest is tight, the walls of her apartment seeming to flex and close in on her. Her heart rate speeds up and she’s taking choked half-breaths, clenching her fists and blinking away tears.

She can’t lose Lena like this, not after she worked so hard to get her back. Kara looks at the clock. It’s just after midnight. This is definitely not visiting-hours at the hospital, and Lena’s not awake anyway - but Kara needs to see her. Needs to know she’s alive.

Needs to hear her heartbeat again.

It’s all of this - the panic, the desperation, the single-minded focus on getting to Lena - that Kara will blame later when she’s trying to explain what happens next in the weeks to come.

The hospital is deserted except for the staff when Kara walks in through the main entrance and goes up to the ICU where she knows Lena will be. She heads straight for the desk at the front of the unit when she arrives, and introduces herself to a nurse before asking if she can see Lena.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Danvers,” the nurse says, and she does sound sorry in the face of Kara’s distress, “visiting hours aren’t until ten a.m.”

A man in a basketball sweatshirt and jeans walks past them, he scans a small badge that says ‘VISITOR’ in capital letters on a machine at the end of the desk, and nods at the nurse before he disappears down the hallway.

“He’s visiting,’ Kara tries, her voice bordering on frantic, “he’s visiting and I need to see her, you don’t understand, I’m not going to be okay if I don’t see her. Please, just let me...”

“I’m so sorry, honey, it’s immediate family only after hours.”

“I’m her wife,” Kara blurts out. “Please. I’m her wife.”

“You’re her…that’s not in the notes…” The nurse trails off, looking down at the computer in front of her.

“I’m her emergency contact, I’m her wife, please.”

““Oh, yes,” the nurse starts nodding, “I do see that marked here, they called you when she came in. Hmmm...Someone clicked the wrong box under ‘relationship to patient.’” She moves her mouse and clicks on something, then looks back up at Kara. “I’ve fixed that for you, Mrs. Danvers. Let me print you out a visitor badge so you can just scan it in next time.

Kara can feel her panic recede a little. She’s going to see Lena. The nurse takes a blank badge and feeds it into an electronic printer. She hands the finished product to Kara, then gets up and gestures for Kara to follow.

“Now,” the nurse starts as she walks Kara down the dark hallway, the lights on half since it’s night, “she looks a little rough, but I assure you, she’s receiving the very best care there is. Normally you would have been called for consent before we initiated the hypothermia protocol, but since she had an advanced directive on file already, the team went ahead and started it.”

Kara’s barely listening to her, has started to strain her ears for the only sound she’s wanted to hear all day. She nearly collapses in relief when she finds it, below the beeping and the whirring and the buzzing of the machines, unlike any other beat in the building. Lena’s heart is steady, slower than usual, slower than Kara’s ever heard it, but it’s there, rhythmically thumping away.

The nurse brings her to a halt in front of a patient room, Lena’s name on the board outside with a bunch of notations that mean nothing to Kara. She’ll ask Alex to translate.

“She’ll be cold to your touch, that’s alright,” the nurse continues. “The key right now is to try to stop or slow any of the damage she’s suffered as a result of going into cardiac arrest. She lost a lot of blood, and her left femur is broken, along with her right ulna, but there are a lot of reasons to be hopeful. We’ll know more in the forty-eight to seventy-two hours once the protocol is complete.”

Kara refuses to think about most of this. Lena is alive. She’s alive and she’s right on the other side of this door. She clears her throat. “How long...how long can I stay?”

“As long as you like, dear. We’ll round on her in the morning and if you’re still here you can talk to the attending. Also, we’ll be in to check on her, but most of the monitoring is electronic since she’s in a medically induced coma for at least the next two days. There’s a chair that reclines by the bedside, I can grab you a blanket?”

“Please,” Kara says. She stops with her hand on the door, turns back to the nurse. “Thank you.” It comes out wobbly.

“Of course.” The nurse smiles at her. “Go on in, I’ll be right back.”

_____________________

Kara’s woken up by the medical team the next morning during rounds, just as the night shift nurse had promised. She blinks awake and rubs at her eyes, stretching and going to stand up when the team enters.

“Hi Mrs. Danvers, we saw you’d arrived,” a tall woman in a white lab coat says, walking over to Kara on the far side of the room and sticking out her hand to shake. “I’m Dr. Sheldon. We’ll do our best to bring you up to speed now, I’m so glad you were able to make it last night.” She gives Kara a warm smile. “Believe it or not, it really does make a difference when patients are supported, even when they aren’t aware of it.”

The team walks her through their care plan for Lena, how long she’ll have to remain like this before they start the re-warming process, what they’re concerned about and what they’ll be looking for. Her arm and femur have been set and immobilized, but it’s likely that the femur will need to be rebroken and repaired surgically if and when Lena does wake up. Given the invasiveness of the procedure, the delicacy of her present condition, and the unknowns about her cognition, that decision will keep.

When they leave, Kara texts Alex. If the doctors think that it will make a difference for Lena’s recovery to have her here, then she’s going to stay. She’s owed time off anyway. This is the best use of it she can think of.

Two hours later, the door opens, and Kara looks up from the bed, relieved to see Alex standing there, holding a backpack with the food and change of clothing Kara asked her to bring.

“Oh gosh, am I glad to see you,” she says, letting go of Lena’s hand and standing up. She walks around the bed to where Alex has stopped.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex says, and she’s frowning at Kara. “You have some fucking explaining to do.”

“What?” Kara stops abruptly.

“What?” Alex parrots. She narrows her eyes. “Are you being serious…?” At Kara’s confused expression, Alex rolls her eyes and reaches behind her to shut the door. She walks over to Kara, pulling some take out from the bag and handing it to her, before pulling up one of the swivel chairs a doctor had been using.

Kara takes the food and goes back to her seat.

“So?” Alex prompts.

Kara looks up from the styrofoam container, already having broken apart her chopsticks. “So what?”

“What do you mean...Kara!” Kara freezes, chopsticks frozen in midair clutching a piece of kung pao chicken. There is real frustration and confusion in Alex’s voice. “Imagine my surprise when I sign in at the front desk and the nurse says that my sister-in-law is stable right now. Wanna tell me why the fuck you’re playing house to visit your best friend in the hospital?”

Kara sets the chicken down. “Alex…”

“Kara, you have ten seconds to explain why the entire staff thinks you and Lena are married and the answer had better not actually involve marriage or I swear to god I’ll…”

“They wouldn’t let me in to see her!” Kara bursts out. “I got here last night and I needed to see her, Alex, I needed to. And apparently it’s immediate family only and I panicked, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. “I know Lena is important to you, but Kara, you could have waited ten hours and seen her.”

“I couldn’t.” Kara looks down at her food, not hungry anymore. “Alex, I couldn’t. I almost had a panic attack after you sent me home last night. I couldn’t wait.”

“Oh kiddo.” Kara looks up at that, all the frustration is gone from Alex’s tone. Her sister lets out a sigh. “Lena’s going to get through this and she’s going to get better. And when she does, you have got to tell her how you feel.”

“She’s my best friend.” Kara’s mouth twists. This is not a new conversation, but the stakes seem higher with Lena in the bed beside her, unconscious and battered.

“She is,” Alex agrees. “But she could be more.”

And oh, Kara wants more with every fiber of her being. But more than that, she wants Lena in her life, wants the easy love and affection they’ve finally gotten back to. And she’s been worried about rocking the boat.

“And by the way,” Alex says, pulling her back to the present, “lying to medical professionals is not a good look.” Kara grimaces and ducks her head.

“I know,” she says, glancing at Lena, the ventilator moving her chest up and down slowly. “But they said it’s good for Lena to have someone here, talking to her, holding her hand, even if she doesn’t know. And you know Lillian isn’t going to do that. And Lex is the one who put her here...just let me do this, okay?”

Alex hums. “You’re so lucky I didn’t blow your secret.”

Kara looks over at her sister. “Thank you.”

“Some of us are actually good at lying under pressure. I’m surprised you didn’t tell them she was married to Supergirl.”

“Well I wasn’t dressed as Supergirl.”

“Thank god for small mercies.”

______________________

Lena doesn’t wake up for the next three days.

In the interim, all of their friends visit, but Alex has already warned them about Kara’s new relationship status and other than Nia’s constant giggles, no one comments. Kara doesn’t leave the hospital. She keeps vigil in the chair, occasionally leaving for short periods of time to go down to the cafeteria, or to stretch her legs.

On day four, Alex convinces her to at least go to the DEO to shower and check in with J’onn about  the duties he and M’gann are covering for her.

She’s just getting ready to head back to the hospital when her phone rings.

“Mrs. Danvers?”

“Yes?”

“This is Dr. Sheldon. Your wife has woken up and she’s being evaluated now by neuro, but we wanted you to know first thing.”

Kara has to sit down in the middle of the DEO, the concrete hard and probably cold underneath her, but it’s better than the alternative, which was just going to be letting her knees give out. She closes her eyes tightly. “I’ll be right there.”

She flies back to the hospital, landing in a nearby alley and running into the building with just a touch of superspeed. She makes it onto the unit just in time to see Lena’s care team leaving her room and turning down the hall to the next patient, and as much as Kara wants to get an update from them, the urge to see Lena herself is too much. She walks through the open door and nearly runs into a nurse, who’s moving some of the equipment out, now that Lena is conscious. It’s a nurse Kara is familiar with, her name is Bernadette, she’s been on shift the last two days. Her eyes light up when she sees Kara.

“Your wife is here,” Bernadette says, over her shoulder before Kara can stop her. She smiles warmly as she turns back to Kara. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She slips past Kara and into the hallway.

“My…” Lena’s eyes go wide as she sees Kara standing helpless in front of the now closed door.  Her voice is still scratchy from the extubation. Her hair is greasy and all over the pillow, her right arm and left leg are completely immobilized, there are wires running through the top of her hospital gown, her whole body a tapestry of garish purples and greens and stitches. But she’s awake. Kara has never felt more relieved in her entire life, but it turns to ice in her veins as Lena struggles to speak, clearly confused. “My - my - oh god.” Her eyes start to fill with tears and Kara panics.

“No, Lena, no, it’s not - “ she starts saying, taking quick steps towards the bed.

“Oh god, oh god, Kara,” Lena chokes out, twisting a little in bed and flinching, “they said I only lost a week, they said my memory seemed okay, that there’s no - ”

“We’re not married!” Kara yells out trying to stop the clear spiral Lena is on. Lena’s eyes go wide, but she does stop looking like she’s about to start sobbing. “We’re not married,” Kara repeats, in a normal voice this time.

“Then why…”

Kara winces. “I might have told the hospital staff that we are. Married, that is.”

Lena looks wary, small and weak and confused in the bed, and she’s frowning a little at Kara now. It doesn’t even matter, though, because the feeling of seeing Lena awake is returning with every word she speaks, and Kara feels something in her chest open up. She has to resist walking over and climbing into bed with her and holding her, knows she needs to explain first.

In every single way Kara played out this moment all week in her head, not once is this how it went - she wants Lena to be smiling, to be okay, or at least as okay as one can be after coming out of a medically induced coma, with a number of near catastrophic injuries still to be dealt with. She certainly didn’t imagine she’d be contributing to the disorientation and isolation Lena’s projecting right now.

Lena’s eyes dart around Kara’s face. Kara takes a deep breath.

“The first night you were here, I had to see you.” She starts twisting her hands together, takes another step towards the bed. “And it was late, and even though I’m your emergency contact, they said no after hours visitors except for family and I panicked.”

“You panicked.” Lena sounds like she’s unsure how panic would lead someone to pretend to be married, and honestly, now that Kara is having to explain the decision, she’s not really sure either. The only thing she knows is that she doesn’t regret it. Would do it again, in fact.

“I knew if they thought I was your wife, they’d let me in to see you. And Lena, I had to see you. I had to. You were - “ Kara cuts herself off, can feel the tightness in her chest, closing around her heart like a vice. “Your heart stopped before I could get you to the hospital. The last time I saw you, I didn’t know if - “ A small sob works it’s way up her throat, and Kara’s eyes are burning. She feels a tear break free from her lashes. “I needed to hear your heartbeat.”

An unreadable expression crosses Lena’s face as Kara takes the seat by her bed that she’s occupied for the last week. To Kara’s great relief, Lena reaches out her left hand, lays it on the edge of the bed, palm up. Kara grabs for it with both of her own.

And Rao, the feeling of Lena’s hand, still cold, but undeniably warmer, squeezing back when Kara grips tightly - she doesn’t know how to describe this feeling. It starts a fresh wave of sobs in her, of relief this time, rather than terror.

“Hey,” Lena says, punctuating it with another flex of her fingers around the back of Kara’s hand. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m here. You saved me. I’m okay, see?”

And really, that just makes Kara cry harder.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you,” she chokes out.

“You are,” Lena says, disengaging their hands and bringing her fingers up to Kara’s face, wiping at the tears. “You are, god, I was just thrown. I thought...I thought, it doesn't matter what I thought.” She tries to laugh and ends up flinching.

“Oh no, are you okay, should I call the doctor?” Kara immediately reaches forward, lays a hand on Lena’s hip above the sheets and wipes furiously at her face with the other.

“It’s the broken ribs,” Lena grits out, jaw flexing as she drops her hand away from Kara’s face and back onto the bed. “Fuck that hurts.”

“I’m just so glad you’re awake,” Kara says, leaning forward again and brushing some of the hair out of Lena’s face, trying to tuck it behind her ear.

That’s how Bernadette finds them when she returns, Kara gently touching Lena’s forehead, and rubbing her hip, the two of them so close that Kara might as well climb in next to her.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, smiling at the two of them. “The attending would like to pop in with the head of ortho to talk about surgical options for your femur. Should I tell her to come back later?”

Kara moves to stand up, she doesn’t want to delay anything about Lena’s care, but Lena reaches for her hand again, and Kara’s powerless to do anything but lace their fingers together and sit back down.

Lena takes a shallow breath, “Can my wife stay?”

My wife. Hearing it come out of Lena’s mouth does something to Kara that feels a little dangerous, makes the room spin a bit. Her heart feels as if it’s expanding and being squeezed at the same time. My wife. My wife. My wife.

“Of course, she’s more than welcome to stay,” Bernadette says. “It’s probably a good idea, actually, now that there are care decisions to make.”

_____________________

“Let me get this straight,” Alex says, her head in her hands. Kelly reaches out to rub her back. “You’re still pretending to be married, and Lena is playing along with it?”

Kara nods. They’re sitting down in the cafeteria while Lena gets a sponge bath, something that Kara is trying very hard not to think about. It’s been nearly three weeks, one major operation, and thankfully no more complications.

And Kara has been here through it all. She’s started leaving for blocks of time during the day (it turns out she didn’t have a month worth of vacation saved up and Alex had nearly had an aneurysm when Kara asked if she was allowed to use family medical leave act time), but she’s spent nearly every night in the hospital with Lena since. The medical team loves them, has started talking to them about how devoted Kara is. Maybe Kara’s playing into it a little, bringing flowers, and Lena’s favorite foods, and always, always touching her in some way when she’s in the room.

“You know they’re going to build her discharge plan around you, right?” Alex squints at her. “Have you considered that?”

Kara flushes. “Actually,” she brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck, adjusts her glasses for good measure, “we’ve agreed that I’ll just move in with Lena for a little while. She can hire someone during the day, but I’ll be around at night and I can help with the rehab. So, um, it’s fine.”

“You’re both fucking idiots.”

_________________

“I’ve been home for an hour and I’m already regretting every choice in my life that’s lead to this point. This is humiliating.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kara laughs, “no it isn’t.”

“Kara, you’re washing my hair in the kitchen sink because I can’t even wash myself right now with this fucking cast and brace on.”

Kara grins, squirting shampoo onto her hand and setting the bottle down on the marble countertop. Lena is sitting in the wheelchair, left leg propped up on the supports. She’s leaning back with her head over the edge of the sink, rolled up towels supporting her neck and her eyes are closed. She’s frowning, but it’s the frown she wears when she’s trying too hard not to smile. It makes Kara want to kiss it right off her face. She takes a deep breath, instead.

Kara is just so grateful that she gets to see Lena like this, hair stringy from the hospital, oversize sweatshirt with one sleeve bunched up over the top of the lime green cast on her right arm. The post-surgical femoral fracture brace looks uncomfortable, but Lena hasn’t complained about it at all. So, fine, maybe this nearly debilitating urge to kiss her best friend, to ask her if the last few weeks could be real, instead of fake (not the marriage part, not now, anyway, but the relationship part sure), is getting more and more intrusive. That doesn’t mean Kara can’t continue to ignore it until Lena’s better.

She finishes washing Lena’s hair and if she takes extra time massaging in the conditioner and making sure the water temperature is absolutely perfect, well, that’s just being a good caretaker. She sets Lena up in her bedroom, then goes back to the kitchen to clean up 

“Ok, Lena,” Kara says, walking back into the bedroom. “You officially have zero edible things in your apartment. I’m going to make a list and head to the grocery store for supplies, ok? Your next meds can’t be taken on an empty stomach.”

“You’re underestimating my iron constitution.” Lena frowns unhappily in bed. “We can just order some, you don’t have to go.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy, okay?” Kara smiles at Lena.

Sure, they could order groceries, but she wants to go get them, to pick them out herself, and bring them back. It makes her feel so good to be able to do things like this: wash her hair, go get groceries, make her something to eat. The best part of this whole terrible ordeal is that she’s gotten to take care of Lena, to show her, not just tell her, how important she is to Kara. It warms her up from the inside out.

“You sure I’m allowed to be by myself?” Lena teases, breaking Kara out of her thoughts. “I haven’t been left to my own devices in weeks now. Just imagine all the trouble I could get into.” She raises an eyebrow.

Kara laughs and shakes her head, drawn closer to Lena like a magnet. Lena’s tucked into bed, leg propped up on pillows to keep the brace comfortable, two books on the nightstand beside her, a glass of water within easy reach, and the next round of medications in a small porcelain bowl that Kara repurposed from the kitchen. Her hair is still wet from being washed, and although there are dark circles around her eyes, and her cheekbones are too sharp from the weight she lost in the hospital, Kara doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything more beautiful than Lena right at this exact moment.

She walks over to the bed and sits down next to Lena, reaching over to move the glass of water back from the edge of the nightstand and onto a coaster. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll bet you a whole order of potstickers that you’re asleep when I get back.” She reaches across Lena, adjusts the towel covering up her pillow to keep it from getting wet.

When she pulls back slightly, she’s startled by how close Lena’s face is to hers. Lena is looking at her with such unadulterated fondness, that Kara can’t help reaching up and tucking a wet tendril of hair back behind Lena’s ear. “I’ll be back so soon you won’t even know I was gone.”

“I always know when you’re gone,” Lena says, the corners of her mouth lifting up, her eyes crinkling lightly. Kara’s hand has drifted from Lena’s ear to the back of her head, her thumb brushing gently at the soft skin just below Lena’s jaw.

When she retells the story of what happens next later, Alex will roll her eyes and mutter under hear breath, but Kara will swear this is the truth: without even thinking about it, she leans forward and kisses Lena on the lips, quick and soft, then stands and turns to go, pulling her phone out of her pocket so she can start making a grocery list.

“You can drop the act now,” Lena says, a little stiffly.

“Huh?” Kara whips around, more at Lena’s tone than at her words, and looks at her in confusion. Lena’s face is bright red.

“Kara, we’re - I’m home, there’s no hospital staff to convince anymore.” She sounds a little upset and Kara, feels her forehead crinkle as she replays the last several seconds in her head: she moved Lena’s water, adjusted the towel behind her head, smoothed Lena’s hair, and…

“Oh Rao, oh gosh.” She takes a step forward, then back abruptly, as she realizes that she’s just kissed Lena on the mouth. She puts one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip, spins in a small circle. “Lena, I’m so sorry. I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine,” Lena says, her voice sounding calm and even now that Kara is having a meltdown, but her heart is doing some sort of high speed gallop in her chest and it’s giving Kara the impression that this is not actually fine.

Oh no, oh gosh… “Lena, I’m sorry, - ”

“I get it.” Lena cuts her off, holding up a hand to stop her. “The whole act, it’s a hard habit to break.” She drops her hand to the bed and laughs lightly, picking at the blanket. “Honestly I’m surprised we made it this long without accidentally doing that.”

“Accidently. Yes.” Kara’s nodding so hard, she feels like her head might come off. “It was an accident.” That might be a convenient way of putting it, but it doesn’t change the fact that Kara’s been wanting to kiss Lena, wants it to be as un-accidental as possible. And aren’t accidents things like tripping on the carpet, or spilling a drink at dinner? She may not have been thinking when she did it, but Kara knows there’s nothing accidental about that kiss.

But Lena’s giving her an out, and Kara can’t bring herself not to take it.

“I’m just going to - ” Kara gestures over her shoulder and then she flees.

“Alex, I kissed her.” Kara’s made it outside the apartment, but her heart hasn’t slowed down. She didn’t even bother making a list after walking out of Lena’s bedroom, just went straight to the elevator, dialing Alex before she’d even hit the lobby. Her stomach is squirmy, she feels like she might throw up.

“Finally,” Alex says, letting out what might be a relieved sigh.

“What do you mean finally?” Kara feels hysterical.

“I mean finally, idiot. Watching the two of you for the past three weeks has been the most painful experience of my life, I’m glad you finally did it.”

“She thinks it was because of the act!” Kara nearly yells. A man walking by looks at her, narrowing his eyes and giving her a wide berth. “She thinks it’s because of the act, Alex!”

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

“Kara Danvers, are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“No,” Kara wails. “I didn’t even mean to do it! Or, well. I meant to do it, but I didn’t know I was doing it. I was making sure she had everything she needed and then I was leaving to go to the grocery story and somewhere in the middle I kissed her! And she got kinda upset even though she said she wasn’t and she says it’s fine because it was an accident. And it was an accident, at least in the sense that I wasn’t thinking when I did it and god I didn’t even ask if she wanted to kiss me, but I meant it, Alex, I meant it.”

Kara can picture Alex right now: that tight, unhappy expression on her face, fingers pinching her nose between her eyes.

“Okay, I swore to Kelly I wasn’t going to do this, but that was before you lost your damn mind and kissed her.” Kara can hear Alex take a deep breath. “You need to go back upstairs right now and confess, Kara.”

“What?” Kara practically screeches. She spins in a circle. “No, this isn’t the right time. I’m supposed to be helping her, I’m supposed to be taking care of her, I can’t put this on her right now. What if she doesn’t feel the same, what if this ruins everything, what if - “

Thankfully Alex cuts her off. “That argument worked before you kissed her and decided to let her believe you didn’t mean to do it. And before you argue with me, you might not have known you were doing it, but you absolutely meant to do it, Kara.”

Kara is now facing Lena’s apartment and gently knocking her forehead against it.

“Kara, I heard that crack, stop headbutting the building.” Kara stops, keeps her forehead pressed to the cool limestone. Alex pauses, and her voice is gentle when she continues. “You gotta tell her, kiddo. You’ve been down the whole lying path with her before and while I don’t think this is the kind of lie that would cause her to try removing our free-will again, I do think that you guys decided on honesty as your way forward. You either own that, or you don’t.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut. “If we can get through that, we can get through this.”

“That’s the spirit. And hey, if for some reason things don’t go well and you feel like you can’t stay with her? Kelly or I would be happy to swap out for you tonight. Just in case you need some space.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

“But Kara, I think you’re gonna be just fine.”

Kara doesn’t feel much better when she hangs up with Alex, but she knows her sister is right. She’s got to tell Lena.

And to be honest, Kara can’t imagine a world in which Lena would be upset with her for having feelings, regardless of whether they’re reciprocated. They’ll be able to work through this, even if it hurts for a while. She’s had friends fall in love with her before, and she’s always been able to keep them as friends afterwards. God, maybe Winn has some advice for me, she thinks.

So Kara takes a deep breath and goes back inside. Groceries can wait.

She’s trembling when she lets herself back into Lena’s apartment. It’s nerves, anticipation more than anything. She’s about to confess something that she can’t, won’t take back and it will change things between them, even if only for a while.

Lena looks up from her book when Kara makes her way back into the bedroom. She sets it down beside her hip on the bed and cocks her head.

“Well that was fast. Did Supergirl get my groceries?” She gives Kara a smile.

“I’m in love with you.” Well that’s one way to start this conversation. “And I didn’t kiss you accidentally.”

Lena’s smile drops, her eyes widening in surprise. Everything about her seems to freeze.

“Before you say anything, I need to get this out. I’m not telling you because I’m expecting anything. I don’t want anything to change, I mean, I do, clearly, but I don’t if that’s not what you want.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut and looks at the ceiling. She really should have thought this through. “I’ve known for a while, actually, I was just worried about what it might mean, if you didn’t feel the same way.” She drops her gaze back to Lena. “But then you almost died. And I pretended to be your wife. And I was planning on telling you once you’re totally recovered. Except then I kissed you without even thinking about it and I can’t lie about this, Lena. It isn’t good for either of us. So. Yeah. Just. Tell me what you need.”

Lena’s looking at her with an expression Kara can’t read, but she doesn’t look unhappy, or afraid, or upset...

“Kara, do you remember when that nurse told me my wife had shown up?”

“Yes,” Kara says, frowning, because she doesn't understand where Lena is going with this. “Of course I do, you were panicked that you’d experienced severe brain damage.”

Lena shakes her head, pats the space on the bed next to her.

Kara feels a weight lift from her shoulders: no matter how this goes, if Lena is asking her to come closer, then they’re going to be okay. She walks across the carpet.

“You’re right,” Lena says as Kara comes closer, “I was worried, but that wasn’t the only thing that made me panic.”

“What else was it?” Kara sits down and looks at her lap, bringing her hands together to fidget. She can feel Lena’s body heat next to her, but she doesn’t want to reach out unless Lena does it first. “Was it the idea of being married to me?” She laughs. She can laugh about this.

“No, darling,” Lena says. She reaches for Kara’s hands, smoothing her fingers across them to still them. Darling, that’s a good sign, right? “Kara, as terrified as I was that there was more damage, my first thought was that somehow I’d lost memories of us: of you falling in love with me, of dating and first kisses and someone proposing and a wedding.” Lena pauses and Kara stares at their joined hands. She hears more than sees Lena take a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve been in love with you for so long it broke my heart to think that those things had happened and I couldn’t remember them.”

Kara whips her head around to look at Lena. Her best friend is smiling, and her eyes are a little wet like maybe she’s overwhelmed and might cry and oh gosh, does Kara understand that feeling right now.

“You love me,” she says, feeling her own eyes start to fill with tears.

Lena nods.

“You’re in love with me,” Kara can’t help clarifying. This is something out of a dream.

Lena nods again.

“Can I…” Kara reaches for Lena’s face, trails her knuckles down Lena’s cheek and watches in awe as Lena leans into the touch.  “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes,” Lena breaths out, smiling, and it’s blinding. “But only if it’s not an accident.”

#this is not what I meant to be writing at all today and also it is much less funny than the tag ficlet but what're you gonna do? #robie writes #supercorp #WHAT'S PROOF READING I'VE NEVER HEARD OF IT DON'T @ME #tw canon typical violence

[imjusttpeachy]

bumpy roads & broken promises. (c.h.)

EDIT: Lmaoooo I did not expect this to actually get notes, thanks guys! I already made it onto someone’s fic recs-- I feel special. Actually might end up writing more if this gets more attention. :^)

I wrote this as a vent/comfort fic for myself but figured others might like it. Corpse has been my new safety youtuber ever since the old nosleep reader--deep voice/no face gamer went to shit so... yeah. 

Heavily inspired by @mmonamona ‘s fic “Petty Fights and Lonely Nights” just more angst. 

playlist

feng suave - sink into the floor

current joys - a different age

feng suave - venus flytrap

rei ami - do it right

summary: Corpse gets frustrated with work and snaps at the reader when she tries to ask what’s wrong, triggering a bad memory from a past relationship. 

word count: 2, 932

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, shouting, panic attacks, reference to past relationship trauma (no retelling, nothing detailed)

(angst, hurt/comfort, crying! lots of it)

>>>

“God would you just fuck off already?!”

Frozen. Your body tensed up as the deep growl echoed through the cramped dark room.

You had been staying at your boyfriend’s apartment for about a week while you were on break from college. Flying out from the UK to California so you could spend as much time as you could with him before ultimately having to return to 5am facetimes while drowning in papers and essays.

Even before you’d booked the tickets, Corpse was already apologizing for everything under the sun. The size of his apartment and its cleanliness, the fact that he couldn’t do much more than order take out for you, his irregular sleeping patterns.. the list could go on and on. And while you assured him every time that you didn’t care, that you were coming to see him— not his apartment, not home cooked meals, and definitely not to scrutinize him for things he couldn’t control due to his mental health. But he wouldn’t buy it.

Not one bit.

He’d offer you a weary half-smile, pulling you into his chest or ruffling your hair before placing a soft kiss on your temple and changing the subject. You didn’t press any further knowing how often he was at war with his own mind and couldn’t help but think the worse of every situation.

As the days carried on, you’d spent most of your time tangled up in each other. Whether it be a movie, or playing some co-op games, or even just laying in his bed with him, you could barely stand to spend any time apart. But, of course, you were adults with responsibilities that would tear you from one another eventually. While you did miss his presence every second he wasn’t around, you couldn’t help but try to make his life even better for when he got back and for when you’d eventually have to leave him once again. Now, a week into your stay, his apartment was a good amount tidier than how it’d been when you arrived. The cupboards and fridge were stocked with groceries that would hopefully last for some time after you left, on top of the home made meals you’d make together or for him everyday. New picture frames were hung up on the wall of the two of you that you’d gifted to him when you arrived; it actually started to feel like home. Well, as much as it could without those familiar strong arms wrapped around you every second of the day.

Unfortunately, this evening was one of those times. Corpse had already been locked up in his office for a few hours now, the sounds of button mashing and frustrated exclamations making its way through the thin walls every so often bringing an amused smile to your face. He’d woken up a bit anxious already knowing he’d have to both leave you alone and put up a brave front for the stream that was planned that evening. You didn’t push him or try to talk about it, knowing that it would just make it worse; so you two had spent the day as it normally would (though he always looked and felt on edge) until he was forced to retreat back into that dreaded workspace.

You occupied yourself on your phone and laptop for a while, checking up on friends, reviewing anything you’d need for the upcoming semester, just scrolling through your socials— y’know, the works. But by the time you’d gotten bored with your scrolling, you’d notice it was a perfect time to start dinner that you’d hopefully be able to eat together with Corpse. You’d gotten to work right away, doing your best to be as quiet as you could to not disturb his work as the different aromas began to spread through the small kitchen in his apartment. Finishing up the dishes after the meal was all cooked, you dished up two servings and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch before you went to retrieve your other half.

Turning the knob of his office door slowly, you peered into the dark room; only the silhouette of the floppy mop of hair you adored so much was able to be seen in the dim light of his computer monitors. Taking a hard look at his right-most monitor you notice an editing software pulled up instead of the usual live chat he had on while streaming, so without any worry of interrupting you opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a cozy room for sure, and it always seemed to smell just like him— which of course is a given but with how much time he spent in this room, it was even more so present. Walking up slowly to his right side so you wouldn’t startle him with just your voice you watched his gaze flick to your form before steadying itself back in the monitor. Furrowing your brows at his strange behaviour but not letting it get to you, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I made dinner!” You smiled down at him, taking a few steps back toward the door so he would be able to get out of his gaming chair without you in his space. However, the hunched form of your focused boyfriend didn’t move an inch. Your heart sunk a little at his attitude but decided to just try again.

“Corpse, baby, dinners ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” The short statement left his mouth in a low grumble, if you hadn’t spent all this time with him studying his voice and begging him to speak more to you, you probably wouldn’t have been able make it out at all. You huffed out a sigh, this was new for him, you really hadn’t seen him as anything other than the cuddly baby you’d grown to know and love. But, you thought to yourself, love would come with days like this and it was bound to happen eventually. Trying your best to not get frustrated or angry with his snappy attitude, you kept your voice light and cheery as you tried again to coax him out to eat.

“Corpse you’ve barely eaten today I-“

“I said I’m not hungry.” Startling at the angry tone you’d never heard from him before, you could feel yourself start to get choked up. Pulling your hands up to hug your arms, trying to sooth yourself, you could feel yourself starting to slowly freeze up. Goosebumps ran over your skin, a chill snaking  it’s way up your spine as you gulped, trying your best to muster up the bravery to speak again. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, he knew how the tone affected you— he was usually even the one to comfort you after an episode triggering something like this. As your mouth began to run dry, you took a deep breath deciding that he would definitely come to his senses in the next moments, you opened your mouth to speak again.

“Is everything alri-“

“I’m FINE! I’m not a FUCKING CHILD I don’t need you constantly checking up on me! God would you just fuck off already!”

You didn’t even notice the tears dripping off your cheeks until they splashed against the bare skin of your hand. Slipping into the defense mode you knew so well, your body switched onto autopilot as you began to backpedal out of the room, almost tripping a few times as you sputtered out a choked “okay, I’m sorry,” before closing his door once again and stumbling messily down the hallway to his room. Your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute yet was completely blank at the same time, and before you knew it you were tucked away inside the dark closet in his room.

This was the routine, this is where you’d be safe.

Trying to slow your erratic breathing you hugged your knees even closer to your chest, praying that in some way it would ease your shaking body. But inevitably, you felt the sobs that you’d kept trapped in your throat since you’d left break through. Your chest heaved with the breaths you took to keep your sobs as silent as possible. You thought you had trained yourself well enough for this, you’d done this a million times before— but in the back of your mind you knew that this time it was different. Shrinking into the corner of the closet, the only thing on your mind was all the broken promises he’d sworn to keep.

>>>

Corpse sighed, his body weighing him down in his chair heavily, head aching with all the work he’d been doing that evening. Pulling his attention back, he stretched his arms as his sore eyes glanced over at the clock in the corner of his screen. 11:34pm. Fuck. That much time had passed already? Raking a hand through his hair he yawned sleepily, he knew he should probably spend more time working before calling it a night but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you-

Shit.

Finally snapping out of the heavy trance he’d set himself in every time he sat down to edit, he thought back to the last time he had seen you— calling him for dinner where he snapped at you to leave him alone… almost 3 hours ago. The memories of the past moment flooded into his head and seconds later he was scrambling out of his chair and out into the hallway. It was dead silent, Corpse felt like his heart was practically breaking his ribs with how hard it was pounding in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gripping at the right side of his shirt he rushed into the living room, rubbing frantically at his eyes as they darted around the room quickly looking for any sign of you.

“(Y/N), baby?” He rasped out, voice caught in his throat, walking through the living room and spotting the now cold meals she’d prepared waiting uneaten on the coffee table. His heart sunk as he hurried to the kitchen only to see the rest of the meal out on the counter, not doing anything to ease his mind. He called your name again and again; rushing back into the living room his eyes darted to the front door, a tiny bit of relief pricking his system as he saw the door was still locked and latched, as well as seeing your shoes and jacket by the door. Rushing back into the hallway he peeked into the bathroom, flicking on the light switch and with no sign of you, continued down the hallway to his room.

“(Y/N), please baby.” Flicking on the light his eyes scanned the room not catching a single sight of you-- when he heard it. Slowing his breathing down as much as he could in his panicked state he focused in his hearing on the small heaves of air coming from the closet. Stomach dropping, Corpse collapsed onto his knees, legs giving way from underneath him when he realized where you were and what was happening. Crawling his way toward the closet door he stopped right outside of it, he heard your breath hitch and knew you were holding it out of practiced instinct which made him want to vomit. But it wasn’t about him right now, so with a deep breath he finally managed to whisper out.

>>>

“Princess, I’m gonna open the door okay?”

Finally releasing the breath you had been holding, your lungs heaved for air as light flooded into the dark closet. Peeking an eye out from where it was buried in your knees, you blearily made out your boyfriend’s blurry figure kneeling outside the closet. With your body feeling like it was completely out of your control, sobs once again began to rack your huddled form as you shrunk away from him as far as you could into the corner of the closet.

“I’m gonna come in and sit with you okay, I won’t touch you unless you say I can alright?” You could hear some shuffling before hearing the door creak shut again engulfing the both of you in almost complete darkness, save for the few streams of yellow light coming from the cracks of the door. Corpse stared forward in complete silence, long legs bent uncomfortably and body hunched over in the cramped space of the closet trying to give you as much space as possible but knowing that the first step was sitting with you. The man beside you sighed softly, feeling his heart splinter with every heaving sob that raked over you; he could feel his own tears prick at his eyes and a sob starting to well up in his throat but he held them back. Mustering up the courage and will he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“(Y/N) I am so, so fucking sorry,” his voice pitched just above a whisper because he knew if his voice got any deeper that it would startle you and scare you even more than how you were already feeling right now. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. It never should’ve hap-“

“Y- You br- broke your promise.” Your reply came in watery, stuttered breaths; the knot in Corpse’s throat came right back up, tears filling his waterline as much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake.

“I know. I know I did.” The man beside you managed to choke out thinking back to the day where he first lost his temper around you. You’d told him everything about your experience with your past relationships and how you were treated, what you used to cope and what he could do to avoid that in any way possible. He promised that day that he would never again raise his voice, or move too fast even when he was angry or frustrated, and made sure to note down anything that would possibly trigger you to completely avoid altogether. And he kept those promises… until today. Tilting his head to glance over at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the closet to see you staring straight ahead, tears pouring endlessly down your damp face as your body still shook with soft cries.

“I can’t lose you (Y/N)” Corpse’s voice shook as he tried to figure out the right things to say that would keep you from walking right out that door.

“I’ll do anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll be better, I swear on my life I’ll be better. Anything you need— it’s yours. I just.. I can’t lose you. Not like this.” He hated how much he sounded like he was pleading when he’s the one who fucked up. The last thing he wanted to do was manipulate you into staying with him which was exactly what your ex did when they made the same mistake time and time again; something he swore he’d never even think of doing. But here he was, and here you were glancing up at him with bloodshot eyes, hair sticking to your tear slicked face and body shaking so much you’d think it was below freezing in there.

Tearing your gaze away from his, you heaved a watery, shaky sigh trying your best to get your thoughts in order. While you had your issues, you knew he had his as well; and with as much patience and understanding he gives you with your snappy, frustrated, sad days, you needed to give back that same patience and understanding with his own. You needed to be brave here.

“Baby-“

“C-Can you just hold me? Please?” You sputtered out just above a whisper, and before you could even unwrap your arms from around yourself Corpse was pulling you into his lap; strong arms encasing you as he pushed his face into your hair. That’s when you found out he was shaking just as much as you were, chest rising and falling erratically with contained sobs as he tried to keep his brave demeanour up for you. Tucking your head under his chin he leaned back against the wall as he crushed you to his chest, the droplets hitting the top of your head giving way to the fact that he was crying too. Pulling your arms up from your side, you slowly wrapped them around his shoulder as he pushed his face against the crook of your neck, sobs finally giving way as he cried helplessly into your shoulder; further dampening the already tear-soaked cloth of the hoodie you were wearing.

“I’m sorry,” Corpse sputtered, hooking his chin over your shoulder so he could keep up with the heaving of his chest, pulling an arm up from around your waist to rest on the back of your head. As much as he wanted to run his hands all over your body and bury his fingers in your hair to feel and memorize every inch of you, he kept them still not wanting to overwhelm you more than this kind of touch already did.

“I love you, I love you so much, I love you..“ he whispered over and over into the darkness of the closet as you both began to breath slower as one. Shushing him softly, you repeated the soft words back to him before wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, ensuring him that you were going to be alright.

There would be bumps in the road but Corpse was worth it.

__________________________________

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse imagine

[omiscurls]

how these haikyuu! characters react after making you cry/feel bad

characters in question: atsumu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, tooru oikawa, tobio kageyama

warnings: one or two curse words, nothing big

part two will be linked here and will contain Eita Semi, Rintarō Suna and Kozume Kenma

Kiyoomi Sakusa 

You were probably somewhere public, like out shopping or stuff, and he really, REALLY hates going shopping. There’s so many people, it smells terribly and unfortunately, every time he somehow goes to the mall, plenty of people manage to bump into his shoulder, which pisses him off to the max. And you were there for two, very long hours. You came back to him from some sort of a shop where you bought a christmas present for someone.

“Look what I got!” you said in a cheerful way, the little bag dangling on your fingers. 

“Mhm, cool” he said, not even minding the wonderful gift you got. You were hoping he’d ask what inside, so you could hide it from him. It was in fact a gift for your precious boyfriend, and you wanted to tease him about it, knowing he’s lowkey excited for christmas. 

That wasn’t in store for today, as he was tired, annoyed to his very limits, and desperately wanted to go home. You pouted, looking at him accusingly. 

“Hey, you’re not even interested!” 

“You’re absolutely right, I’m not” he said, walking away towards the parking lot, leaving you behind, needing to catch up to him. Something stang your heart in the way he said it. Did he really not care at all? He said he’d come with you, after all, he was in such a good mood in the morning. 

“Are you mad?” you asked, way more quiet already. 

“Are you mad?” he mocked you in the most annoying, high-pitched voice he could get out of his throat, rolling his eyes. “No, it’s just that my girlfriend’s dumb and childish” he added, speeding up. 

What? 

You froze in place. Your brain kept telling you he doesn’t mean it, and he’s just stressed at the moment, he’ll most likely apologize a hundred times as soon as you get home. You knew that. You knew you had to respect and mind some things in his brain that were just made a certain way. You knew all that, and yet, it still hurted, to have all your christmas-ish atmosphere and mood ruined like that. 

But still, your common sense stopped you from causing a scene, as you quietly followed your angry boyfriend. He checked whether you were still there, because the one thing he hated more than being in shopping malls was being in shopping malls alone, but you didn’t notice, eyes fixed on your shoes, so you wouldn’t cry. 

You absolutely hated it when he raised his voice at you the way he did. It could’ve been worse, you were probably overreacting... 

You glanced over at the small bag you were carrying, and the very valuable gift you picked out, and remembered how happy you were about it a second ago. How happy you were to make him happy. 

You couldn’t stop the tears then, but managed to keep them silent, so that he wouldn’t notice. The two of you got to his car, and you still stayed quiet as he drove out of the parking lot, and onto the road. Looking at the window constantly, you managed to hide the trails of tears on your cheeks, until the moment you sobbed by complete accident. Your eyes widened, and muscles became tense, knowing you must’ve made a sound, and he must’ve heard it. 

And damn right he did, his heart immediately dropped, he thought you were just pouting about the name he called you, but obviously, OBVIOUSLY you knew he did it out of stress, right? Obviously you knew he was already planning on how to apologize, but first he needed to calm down, so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid again. 

But there you were, crying? On his front seat? But that was one stupid name, why did you care this much? 

He sighed, and you watched in shock as he took the first place he could stop at and got out of the car, without saying a word. You thought he needed fresh air, or something, but no, he walked up to your side of the vehicle, and opened the door. 

“Come on, get up” he said, way softer than you expected him to, but you just stared at him in surprise. “Fine then” he added, when you wouldn’t move, and bent over to personally undo your seatbelt, and took your hand to help you up. 

You were now standing in front of him, with a shy expression across your face. You watched in frustration as he battled with himself what to do next, it was such a spontaneous decision that he didn’t have the time to think his apology through.

You watched him frown, run a hand through his hair in stress and play with his fingers for a while. He really sucked at apologizing, but what he sucked at even more, was physical affection. Though he really liked hugging you, under certain conditions, he didn’t feel comfortable doing that here, and after long shopping, while his nerves were all ripped apart.

Words was all he had left.

“I’m sorry” he finally said. “You know I didn’t mean that. You’re not stupid, nor are you childish. I was just stressed. Please, tell me how I can make it up to you.”

You knew, you knew he didn’t mean that, but you wished you didn’t have to. You stayed silent, and he began to panick, why didn’t you respond? He moved further away and looked you in the eyes, worry in his dark irises. 

“I really, really want to see what you got. I do. Just, let’s get home first, please?” he asked in a really soft, almost childish voice. “Come on, I’ll make dinner, how about that? I’ll try your favorite.”

And when you nodded, he sighed with relief. He’d probably die before he’d spontaneously kiss you or anything, so he was glad words worked on you. And he knew for a fact, that he never wanted to make you feel unappreciated again.

Atsumu Miya

He’s stressed before a game. The Jackals had a major fight the other day and he just knows the energy on the field won’t be as good, and he’s competing against one of his highschool rivals. 

It doesn’t help when Osamu and you tease him about the fight, claiming he was the one to cause this, even know you all know DAMN WELL it started with Bokuto and Sakusa. 

So yeah, the great Atsumu Miya is stressed. He’s afraid it will all be blamed on him, again. So he sits in the living room, draped all over your couch, huge headphones on as he plays some game on the PlayStation. 

You enter the room after coming home and smile upon seeing him in such a childlike position and activity, and you go over to the kitchen to make tea. You put one of the cups with it in front of him, waving your hand before his face. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks” he says, gently pushing you out of his vision, so you don’t interrupt his game. You pout slightly, but smile, he looks so cute and focused. 

After a while you come back into the room, and he’s just staring at the ceiling, the controler in his hand. 

“Your tea is cold by now” you whine, looking at the cup. 

“Mhm” he only responds, not minding your comment. That irritated you slightly, but you only took the controler out of his grip, noticing the screen was already turned off, and sat on the couch. 

“Stressed you fucked up?” you giggle, slightly pushing his bangs back, wanting to kiss his forehead after, but you stop in your actions after you notice how he’s looking at you. 

“I didn’t fuck up” he states codly and slowly “I did nothing wrong! It was Sakusa and Bokuto who started the fight, all I did was try to keep them from ripping each other apart!” his voice slowly rises up, as he lifts himself up to a sitting position, betrayal forming in his eyes. He doesn’t even call his teammates Omi and Bokkun, he reffers to them with their whole surnames. “Why do you all keep assuming I’m the one who fucked up? Why does it always have to be me in your eyes, huh? You’re my girlfriend, you should know better!” he shouts, standing up, and you follow him with a worried look, not wanting to hear him yell anymore. 

“Calm down, Tsumu, I was joking of course I—” you begin, but he doesn’t let you finish, snatching away the hand you were going to put on his cheek. 

“Of course you were! All you ever do is joke about me, like I’m some kind of a fucking spectacle! Why do I even bother dealing with you?” he says in a cold manner, storming out of the room, as you’re left there, speechless, tears flowing down your cheeks. All you wanted was to change the atmosphere a bit, maybe you got to it the wrong way, but still, why did he react like that?

You slowly get yourself to leave and go to the bathroom, where you close the door behind you and slide your back against it until you reach the floor. You look at yourself in the huge mirror in front of you — were you really that terrible? That hard to deal with? 

Sobs leave your mouth uncontrollably as you think of Atsumu leaving because of such a small and irrelevant little thing. 

But he didn’t leave, he just went to the bedroom to calm down, and suddenly he feels guilty, so he tries to look for you. As you didn’t turn on the lights in the bathroom, he doesn’t check it at first, but upon hearing your cry, he freezes. 

Wait, wait, wait. You were the one to make him feel bad, not the other way around. Did he say something he doesn’t remember? Did something else happen to you and you wanted to tell him, but he didn’t let you? What happened, why is his little princess crying? 

He knocks on the door, lightly. 

“Are ya there?” he asked, as his obvious accent gets more noticeable with emotion. You don’t respond, so he kneels in fornt of the door to look wether your sitting by it. “See, I know you’re there” he says as calm as he possibly can. “Come out, please”. 

When you don’t respond again, he wants to open the door himself, as he sees it’s not locked, but he doesn’t want to seem this controlling. 

“Okay, I’ll wait” he just says instead, sitting by the door, making you two sit almost back to back. “Ya know, I’m a bit hurt myself, do ya know how difficult it is when people always assume you’re the dumb one? And then your girlfriend does, too? I know it wasn’t a big deal, I know you were joking. Just, I’m really worried about this situation, ya know?”

“I’m sorry” you whisper, and he instantly turns back, not remembering there’s a door between you. 

“Don’t be sorry, I overreacted, princess. Just, please, remember that I have feelings, too, please. I’m so, so sorry for hurting yours”

You try to open the door, and he quickly rolls away, and smiles softly upon noticing your red, wet face and swollen eyes. 

“Yer not difficult to deal with, princess. Dealing with ya is an honor” he says quietly, as he opens his arms to hug you, and wraps them tightly around you, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, we’re okay” he laughs, as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead. 

You nod. 

“But really, you’re sensitive, princess” he laugh vibrantly, looking over at you. You punch him slightly on the torso. 

“Like you’re the one to talk.”

Tooru Oikawa 

You fight about his fangirls, obviously. You usually just let them be, knowing damn well your beloved boyfriend only has eyes on you, as he often jokingly states, but that one day you just weren’t feeling like yourself.

You were moody all day, walking around as if you were half dead, rude and bitter to everyone, even if it is uncharacteristical for you. Then when you meet your boyfriend after his practice, it turns out that his day wasn’t any better.

Usually you’re his best cheerleader and vice versa, but when you’re both mad, well it’s a mixture that can blow up any given moment.

He waves at you calmly from outside his locker room, walking over slowly in your direction. Usually he’d run up and give you a spin, so you instantly know he’s not in the mood for anything.

Almost mechanically he stops by you and gives you a peck on the cheek. You grab his hand and begin walking out of the building.

“All set and ready?” you ask before starting to walk again, and he simply nods. You feel the angry glances of all the girls that wish to be you, and almost tremble at the amount of hatred coming from them silently.

And then, Oikawa waves. That’s literally all he has to do for them to turn into literal angels and squeal all over the place like the annoying little shits they are, at least for you and at least that day.

You tighten the grip on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Your bad mood collapses even further as you overhear some sort of a conversation about your body, obviously not a very polite and respectful one. You press your lips into a straight line, as you two walk out of the building.

“They were annoying weren’t they?” you ask, wanting to keep some sort of a conversation with your boyfriend.

“You always find them annoying, chill already” you hear in response, glancing over at him with surprise.

“Well I’m sorry for not wanting to hear it again how I’m clumsy, and ugly, and not enough-“

“Your level of self pity is really high these days, you know that?” he states bluntly, as you feel something stinging your heart. “Relax already, geez” he then adds, letting go of your hand.

“Well then, keep relaxing by yourself” you answer in a bit, suddenly walking in a different direction than he did. You hear him shout at your back to stop doing this and come there, but you don’t care. You practically run over to your house, hot tears streaming down your face.

All you wanted was a bit of encouragement. The slightest bit of what they received, a flash of that smile, but no, all you received was coldness and bitter comments about your self esteem.

You shut the door behind you and go up to your room, not even taking off your shoes, just throwing yourself at the bed, screaming into the pillow. What a dick, you think, but also wish he was there apologizing and hugging you right now.

Why didnt he run to stop you? He was faster, he’d catch up in a second. You totally forget that he also seemed off.

Around half an hour later you hear a knock on the door, but can’t bring yourself to answer.

“I’m coming in myself if you won’t open, just to let you know!” you hear, but decide to just lay still. And as promised, your front door opens, and then the sound of footsteps echoes around the place, until you hear a small knock on the open door to your room.

“Care to look up maybe?” he asks, but you shake your head no in response.

He walks over, leaving something on your desk, and moves your chin so you’d look at him himself.

“So... your dickhead of a boyfriend is sorry” he states calmly, reaching for the flowers he left on the desk previously. Your favorites, obviously, that’s so Oikawa.

“Tell him I don’t want to talk” you answer, tilting your head to the other side. He laughs softly.

“Come on, he can’t just leave you here, mad at him! Let him make it up in some way” he says, moving you to the side of your bed so he can sit there, and lifts you up so you’d sit across from him. “Pretty pretty please, forgive me for being an asshole” he pleads, going full on puppy eyes.

You stay silent.

“Come on baby, you know you’re prettier, and smarter, and funnier than all of them at once! And the one thing you have that they obviously don’t, is my undying love!” he puts a hand over his forehead in a theatrical gesture, closing his eyes and lifting his chin as if he was a fifteenth century princess about to faint. You giggle, and he considers this a win.

“All jokes aside though, everyone is somehow beautiful in their own way. But you, your royal highness, you’re beautiful in every way possible” he whispers dramatically, getting closer so he can kiss the tip of your nose. „Plus I did bring the flowers, so it would kinda hurt if you wouldn’t forgive me”

You roll your eyes and nod calmly, watching him do a cute little victory dance.

“Now can I talk about how mean Iwaizumi was to me today? And you won’t believe what I got into this morning—“

Tobio Kageyama 

He’s being a clueless dick without realising it. You know damn well that all his life he’s been focused only on his passion, and nothing else seemed to be bothering his mind. You know you’re his first s/o, and that comes with a lot of fluffy, exciting moments, but also with a lot of embarassing fights about nothing. 

So you’re patient, most of the time. He doesn’t have a lot of spare moments to share with you, as his career is speeding up constantly ever since he left middle school, you’re fine with that. You’re fine with him leaving for a couple of days very often, you’re fine with him spending more time with his teammates than with you, that’s all understandable and logical. 

But his behaviour often isn’t. 

“Hey!” you say, standing on your tippy toes to cover his eyes with your hands “Guess who?” 

“I know it’s you” he answers, turning around “And I can’t talk right now” he adds, ready to leave. You notice hinata in front of him, apparently they were in the middle of a conversation. You suddenly feel bad for interrupting. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are we still on for tonight, though?” 

“On for what?” he asks, eyebrows raised in total surprise. You can’t believe it, did he forget?

“Well, we have a date” you hiss bitterly, and get even more annoyed as he smirks a bit.

“Oh that, yeah no I can’t, I don’t have the time” he says before turning away and walking to the gym room.

“Oi, that was a bit rude” Hinata complains, but Kageyama only shakes his head.

“Shut it and let’s get to work” he states, his voice demanding obedience.

They both turn around a tiny bit, only to notice your figure fade away in the distance as you run off. A little needle of guilt stabs Kageyama’s heart softly, but he shakes it off.

“Kageyama, better go fix this” Hinata says, worry painted all across his face. “She looked pretty upset to me”

“Stop being nosy, it’s my relationship” he dismisses coldly, but Shouyou doesn’t seem to move from where he’s standing.

“Tobio, no. The tournament isn’t even here for another two months. Hell, we don’t even have practice today! We’re just practicing on our own!”

“Yeah, and you always insist on doing that. Stop being so sensitive today”

But Hinata doesn’t back down.

“Fine then, just don’t whine to me when she breaks up with you. Because she will, eventually, if you keep being a dick to her. Do you even love her?”

“Of course I do, you idiot!” Kageyama shouts, realizing what his friend is saying. He can’t bare the thought of you breaking up with him. Would you really do that? Would you leave him alone?

“Then go, and fix this, before we’ll al have to deal with your broken heart” the redhead adds, before grabbing his coat and walking towards the entrance. Kageyama is left in shock as he takes out his phone and tries to call you, but you don’t pick up.

Every time you don’t respond, Hinata’s voice keep getting louder in his head. You’ll break up with him. He doesn’t want that, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

He eventually runs out of the building, searching for you with his eyes. After a dozen missed calls, he finds your small figure in the distance, and runs up to you.

Even though his heart rages with emotion, he can’t seem to be able to tap your shoulder, and he doesn’t know whether he’ll find it in himself to apologize. Pride, and all that.

He finally does it, and you turn around, for him to see your puffy eyes and wet cheeks. Oh shit, he didn’t think he’d make you cry. What does one do in a situation like this?

“Follow me” he says, grabbing your hand. He doesn’t find the right words to apologize, so he just decides to take you on the best date he can think of.

“No” you answer, staying in place. “Why would I?”

“Because we’re going on a date”

“What makes you think I still want to go with you?” you ask, but the proud manner of your voice disappears as it cracks and tears form under your eyelids again.

What also cracks, is that poor, inexperienced heart of his.

“Please” he says “Please, let me take you out on a date you deserve”

Then he bows, slightly, and you find that scene both amusing and a bit uncomfortable.

You chuckle.

“Then say you’re sorry.”

He looks up at you with disbelief. Oh how petty, but he deserves that. He deserves to do what he’s not so good at, if he wants to show you he cares.

“I, uhm, I sincerely apologize for making you cry. I acted like an asshole” he says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“How formal” you laugh, walking up to him and grabbing his hand. “Fine then, but better suprise me, Kageyama Tobio”

“You got it” he smiles.

#ff #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #fanfiction #haikyu #hq #hq fluff #fluff #hq scenarios #anime #kiyoomi headcanons #headcanon #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu #atsumu miya #miya #atsumu headcanons #tobio fluff #kegayama tobio #tobio scenarios #atsumu scenarios #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa #oikawa toru x reader

[miraeluc]

you have an anxiety attack

prompt: “after a long day you’re just trying to cook for you and your roommate, but when you accidentally switch salt and sugar the stress dawns upon you and you lose it.”

pairing: kaeya x gender-neutral reader

warnings: description of an anxiety attack, explicit language

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, angst

rough day? 

no

roughest of the rough 

it started in the morning - all was good until you were all dressed and ready to go

all you needed to do was brush your teeth

of course you dropped toothpaste on your new blouse and had to change because your boss would literally kill you if you strutted in there with toothpaste stains on your clothing 

that didn’t upset you too much anyway,, yep, it kinda sucks but it is what it is

you went to work

that’s when it started to REALLY go downhill

first, you had to sit your ass in this tiny cubicle all day and it remained right on that chair every time you stood up

that’s what it felt like at least

then, you lost data that you’ve been working on for a MONTH

an entire month’s worth data!!!! LOST!!!!

curse you and your issue with forgetting where you put your folders

so you started over

was it worth it? 

no

your boss hated it

you ended up dropping the project overall,, handed it over to a co-worker

your excuse was that you felt too ‘unfit’ for the whole project and he would totally be a better fit!

poor bennett 

bennett is a nice guy, you always hang out with him during break

you usually talk shit about the other co-workers and he just listens and sits there like ◕ ◡ ◕

he’s just there for the food you bring him, really 

he’s a little dumb so he took the project from you with no hesitation

“i’ll do it for you, dont even worry about it, y/n!”

you ended up working overtime 

you had about 7 projects to finish until tomorrow morning and they were all only half-done 

so you got your coffee, turned off your phone and got to work

you finished at 9pm

your work hours are 8am-5:30pm

nope, not having a great time 

well, at least you can go home now!

you pack up your stuff and get up, leaving this hellhole of an office, stretching as you wait for the elevator before checking your phone to see 7 missed calls from your roommate

aka kaeya

aka boy that is most likely emotionally unavailable

aka boy that KEEPS TURNING OFF THE HEATERS TO LEAVE YOU TO FREEZE

his excuse is always that he can’t handle the warmth but you’re sure its so you whine about the cold so he can hug you to warm you up

maybe you have a teeny tiny crush on him???? BUT WHO CAN BLAME YOU 

he’s a whole package - the only thing he’s lacking is emotional availability lmao

which is why you never mentioned the day by day blooming feelings you’ve been developing for him

there would be no positive outcome from you telling him. he would politely turn you down, having to explain yet again that he doesn’t see himself having actual romantic feelings to someone 

you’re content with your current relationship with him

right?

kaeya is known as the fuckboy! of the city

neither of you mind, he’s having his fun

and you know that there’s much more to it 

you’re very happy to have gained his trust enough for him to let his flirty side down when with you, at least

well, there’s no time to ponder over your relationship with him because you’re already sprinting to catch the last bus of the day

right as you got to the station it drove away

fuck

what now?

you have to walk home. alone. in the dark.

oh well. 

usually bennett drives you home but obviously he left earlier

its only a 15 minute walk you can do it

it’s not that bad there’s street lamps hey!

not that bad until it starts to rain, apparently

by the time you get home there’s water in places rainwater shouldn’t be

kaeya is running by the time he hears the front door

“where were you??”

“why didn’t you reply to my calls??”

“do you have a slight idea about how worried i w-”

he stops when he sees your soaked figure and tired expression

“oh, y/n, what happened?” 

he immediately helped you chuck off your wet coat and shoes 

“i worked overtime and missed the last bus so i had to walk home”, you sighed

he nodded and hummed “Go ahead and take a shower then, wouldn’t want you to get sick now, would we?” he winked

you scoffed but nodded anyway

 “yeah, especially in this coLD FUCKING APARTMENT BECAUSE YOU REFUSE TO LET THE HEATERS TURNED ON-”

you only heard him laugh before shutting the door in the bathroom and jumping into the shower, needing to warm up because you were sure your toes were about to fall off from the cold

at least the shower went well

:///

you got dressed in lounge attire when you got out of the shower, walking to the kitchen because you were very hungry

you gave bennett all your food today so you didnt have any left

he just looked so hungry

ANYWAYS

you’re in the kitchen, deciding on what to cook

if you ask kaeya he will tell you to just drink wine instead so, no

you kind of want something sweet so you decide to bake cupcakes

kaeya shows up too

“what’re you baking?”

he sat and watched as you gathered all the ingredients you need

“cupcakes. how was your day?”

you strike up a conversation - all you talked about today was work and you need some decent interaction, plus kaeya is a super nice talk partner

“good. i had a day-off today so i layed in bed all day”

you hummed, stirring the eggs and flour 

“how come? you never get off”

“no reason, i was forcibly given a day off- well anyways, what i wanted to tell you about before you worried me because i thoght you were deAD when you didn’t respond, is that i need your help setting up a date for diluc-”

you stopped listening halfway

you were looking at the unopened sugar bag on the counter

you just stirred the sugar in, why is it unopened????

you look over at the open bag of salt

wait a second 

you take out a little dough and taste it

FUCK

“hello??? earth to y/n?? are you even liste-”

he stops himself as soon as you look at him with your lower lip trembling 

uhhhhh

he’s never been in this situation

“y/n?? why are you crying-”

he looks at the counter and the dough, then he sees the salt beside the bowl you were stirring in and leans over to try some

oh, that’s why

“oh come on, is that what you’re crying over?” he snorted

he could barely catch you when you collapsed and started sobbing 

he immediately regreted what he said

“hey, y/n, it’s just a little dough! its okay-” 

you just sobbed and he sat down with you, sighing and pulling you into a tight hug

you felt your lungs constricting and your hands started shaking 

you didn’t even notice how antsy you felt all day until now

you gasped for air and he tightened his grip on you

“w-why am i so worthless?!”

you punched his chest

“i can’t do a single thi-ng with-out messing it up!”

punch

“i’m so us-useless”

punch

“i should just kill m-”

he immediately pulled away and cupped your face before you could finish what you were about to say

“y/n, look at me. you had a bad day - you’re not useless! you’re stressed out! you’re one of the most hardworking people that i know- and, and don’t you ever mention anything about killing yourself! i won’t let you go, not as long as im here”

you were too busy fighting against the constricting feeling in your lungs to notice the tear slipping down his cheek before he hugged you tightly again

your hands gripped at his tshirt

his hand rested over your shaky ones

it broke him

seeing you in such state hurt him so much, he felt his own heart breaking a little with every gasp you took 

“come on, let’s breathe together”

his voice was soft when he spoke to you

he took a deep breath in, you following

you wrapped your arms around him and leaned your head against his chest when breathing out 

hearing his heartbeat made you feel safe

he kept breathing with you until he was more than sure you could breathe comfortably again 

why did he feel like this?

sure, flirting with girls is fun 

and ghosting them is also fun

he usually doesn’t care about hurting them

but why does he feel the need to protect you from all bad things?

and why does your pain hurt him too?

he sighs and shakes his head as if that would clear his mind 

(it doesn’t)

oh well. 

taking care of your needs is more important right now

he picks you up and walks over to the couch, sitting down, placing you on his lap and hugging you 

“you’re not cooking anything, we’ll order takeout.”

you sniffled and nodded 

you did feel your heart flutter a little when he sat you down on him

he’s never done that 

you ignore it and reside into the warmth he gives instead, nuzzling your face into his chest 

he smiles softly and strokes your hair, using his free hand to type in what you were ordering

you both fell into a comfortable silence

at some point he thought you fell asleep lol

“kaeya?”

he rose his brows a little and looked down, humming

“thank you.”

additional notes: welp. this was my first drabble! it was very fun to write and i genuinely look forward to writing more! i’d appreciate it alot if you leave any feedback or even requests for drabbles :-)

#kaeya #kaeya x reader #anxiety #anxiety attack #angst #fluff #diluc #bennett #genshin impact #kaeya alberich #gender neutral s/o #genshin impact x reader #kaeya scenario #genshin impact scenarios #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya angst #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff

[sunflowersteves]

fright night || ch. one

vampire!bucky barnes x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s something mysterious about your neighbor (loosely based off of fright night).

author’s note: happy spooky season! hopefully, I’ll get this mini series done before Halloween

warnings: supernatural beings, a coffin, v spooky, mentions of abusive relationship (it’s vague but still there so just a heads up!)

series m.list // main m.list

You groan in frustration as you try to close your janky trunk, your bags sitting near your feet. You smile in accomplishment as you finally close the trunk, taking a couple of steps towards the house.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you see a moving truck outside the Johnson’s home, which was right next door. The Johnson's had lived there for as long as you could remember, their house was the biggest on the corner of the cul de sac.

Your curiosity grew even further as the movers carried out dark Victorian furniture. The house was already red brick itself, with Victorian-styled towers and ornate trims that enhanced the railings of the home.

You grabbed your bags and started to move to the front door, still watching the movers do their job. You stopped for a second as you could feel a cold stare, and goosebumps rose on the back of your neck.

You quickly whipped around to see a blonde-haired man, his hands resting on the patio railing, Victorian brown contrasted with the maroon accented door. He didn’t look away as you stared back, you almost felt like you were drawn to him.

Something about his blue eyes and glistening lips curled up in a sneer made you want to run inside but your feet felt stuck to the ground as though you were in quicksand. The strange man leaned forward slightly, getting a much better view of you and you opened your mouth, wanting to say anything and everything.

“y/n, is that you?”

Your mother peeked out the front door, the work clothes she wore were sticking to her. You turned your attention away, walked up a couple of steps, and greeted your mother. You turn away from her and look at the neighbor’s house, eyes searching for the man again.

However, when you turned over to look at the patio, it was like he was never there.

“You okay, dear?”

Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth slightly agape, turning towards your mother you nod slightly. She gestures you inside but you pause in front of the front door, you shake your head slightly. It felt a bit ridiculous to be so suspicious of a neighbor you’ve never even met.

“Yeah, mom. I’m okay.”

You walked into the house and set your bags down in your bedroom. You walked back down stairs to see your mother cooking dinner, turning the noodles around with a pasta fork.

“How was your trip, dear?”

You take a seat on one of the bar stools in front of the island, sipping on a glass of water.

“It was good; not too much traffic.”

Your mother nods in approval and takes out plates from one of the cabinets for the two of you. She sets one of the plates down and spoons up the noodles with pesto sauce. She goes over to sit next to you, making a plate full of food for herself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up, dear?”

You swirl the noodles around your fork, thinking of how you were going to tell this to her. You knew it was going to sound ridiculous but you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that house.

“Do the new neighbors seem… odd to you?”

She placed her fork down and turned to with a raised eyebrow, “what do you mean ‘odd’?”

You shrugged, placing a napkin in your lap. “When I arrived, I had this strange feeling that someone was watching me and when I turned around this blonde guy was staring. It felt like… I don’t know, I just couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away.”

Your mom contemplated speaking for a second, trying to find words for your situation. A large smile floated onto your mom’s face.

“Was he handsome?”

You roll your eyes and pick up your fork again, shoving as much pasta as you could. Your mom takes a sip of water before turning towards you, a lot more serious than before.

“I know it’s been hard, dear. I can’t ever imagine what you’ve gone through with all the things that Brock put you through,” you stopped for a second, frozen by the sound of that asshole’s name.

“But, I think it’s time you tried to move on. I don’t want you to think that every person out there is like him. You just need to find someone that’s right for you.”

You drop your fork, letting it clang onto your half empty plate of pesto and noodles. Tears well up in your eyes, a sob escaping your mouth. Your mom gasps and jumps out of her seat, enveloping you in a hug.

“I’m just so scared.” You whispered into your mom’s arms, holding her as tight as you could. She sighed slightly, her grip on yours was as tight as ever. Her heart burned for you, wanting nothing more than to take your pain away.

“I know, dear. I know,” and she held you there for a while, letting you talk and cry out all of your fears. You hadn’t visited her in a while and it felt good to get everything out. You had talked to her about Brock before, but definitely not all the intricate details of his suffering he made you go through.

Your mom looked at her watch before turning towards you, “why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure your trip was exhausting.”

She kisses your forehead and you nod, muttering a goodnight as well. You walked up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. You started to unpack, the suitcase resting on your old bed. Not much had changed in the room, everything was mostly still the same from when you were in high school.

You paused for a second, then walked around the room reminiscing about everything before you moved out. You picked up an old sports trophy and giggled a bit, silently wondering what your old teammates were up to nowadays. Still smiling, you walked over to sit on your window seat; it was always your go-two sitting spot.

You had cried, laughed, spied on your hot neighbor, and gossiped with your best friend on that seat. You sit down on the fluffy cushions and stare out the window, wondering all the times you have sat here for hours and hours on end.

Night has finally arrived. Faint clouds converged around the moon and crickets sang their melodies. You could tell that the night seemed cold; little pockets of air had rushed through the old window making you shiver slightly.

A giggle escapes your lips as you see an old teen romance novel placed randomly on your dresser next to the window. You grab the book and turn some pages, remembering the plot in an instant.

You dozed off while reading the book, not noticing how late it was. You paused, checking your phone. You muttered a quick “shit” at the clock, since it was about 3:00 am now. You were supposed to wake up early in the morning to help your mom with some house work. So much for trying to get a good nights sleep.

You took a slight peak out your window, clutching the paper book in your hand. Then you freeze, dropping the book in your hand and letting it fall to the floor.

There were two of your neighbors, heavy fog whispering around them. From your childhood bedroom, it was harder to see from being so but there was no doubt in your mind of what you saw. There was a new mysterious man who was accompanying the blonde one you saw earlier.

His skin was quite faded, paler than anyone you had ever seen. His hair was a chestnut brown and his eyes were like the sea. He wore a dark sweater and his demeanor seemed different from the one you had met earlier. You shivered from the mere thought of his presence, you wanted to be closer towards him.

You honestly had thought you were safe up in your room, however, he seemed to notice you. His eyes flickered up to your window and his stare was so forceful, you wouldn't dare look away.

A smirk reached towards his face, seeming like he knew something but you didn't.

But the thing was, it wasn’t the fairly handsome neighbor that caught your attention. It was what they were doing that made you drop your book in fear and surprise. Your neighbors had carried a coffin up to the front porch.

A fucking coffin.

bucky barnes taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​

marvel taglist: @harrysthiccthighss​ @fandomsandxfiles​

permanent taglist: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @hailmary-yramliah​ 

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #vampire!bucky barnes x reader #vampire!bucky #spooktober #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fright night #marvel fanfic #Winter Soldier #winter solider x reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #vampire au #alternate universe #alternate universe vampire

[fangirlyah]

✦ to be so lonely - Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

one shot inspired by the harry styles’s song ‘to be so lonely’ 

summary: draco makes bad decisions that alienate what he loves the most

warnings: it’s pure angst so yeah

word count: 2,640

Don't blame me for fallin'

I was just a little boy

it was a freezing winter night when draco realized that he was in love with y/n. it was extremely cold when he saw her go through the door of the manor with her reddish nose and an elegant coat covering her green dress. her parents in front of her receiving his parents with a handshake. they already knew what was going next, but neither draco nor y/n were involved yet, they only accompanied their parents in the meetings; they were almost always left outside the room, together in the kitchen having a cup of hot tea and sharing chats that kept draco awake that night and maybe the next.

Don't blame the drunk caller

Wasn't ready for it all

it was an autumn tinged with warm tones, when y/n realized that she was in love with draco. she saw him pick up a book from the library while she accommodated the ones she had recently used and felt her heart jump. they knew little of what lay ahead, only accompanying their parents as it would be dangerous to be left alone at home and unable to use magical protection because of their age. so y/n visited malfoy manor or draco visited the y/l mansion very often. when it was the blond’s turn to leave his home, they always went up to the roof to look at the stars that left her stunned.

You can't blame me, darling

Not even a little bit

I was away

And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch

Who can't admit when he's sorry

everyone knew of their friendship but no one dared to ask how it had begun. they knew the answer would be something like: ‘our parents are death eaters, what did you expect? ', so they just kept their doubt behind their backs and watched their movements together. which were not many, but enough to bring to light their friendship. 

Don't call me "baby" again

You got your reasons

was the week after that icy night, when draco put his head on y/n’s lap as they read in the private library of her mansion and said, 

"I think I’m in love with you" amidst the entrancing silence, in which only the passing of the leaves and their breaths were the only noises. after three years of friendship, draco was confessing his feelings that, a week ago, had really been recognized by the youngest malfoy. at that very moment y/n leaned her lips gently on those of draco who was looking at her from her lap. silently sealing a promise that would not last long, but that she believed it would.

I know you mean it

But don't call me "baby" again

their first kiss was seven weeks before september first, seven weeks spent between kisses and hugs in the library, the kitchen and some other room. 

seven weeks filled with cups of tea and stargazing. 

seven weeks in which draco’s hands did not seem to leave those of y/n; not even when they ate around the other minions of who-must-not-be-named, which was when he intertwined their hands under the table.

seven weeks, which both enjoyed each other’s presence deeply and did not pass a day when they did not remember each other how much they enjoyed the other's company.

It's hard for me to go home

Be so lonely

 but it was a week before september first when draco, was personally requested by the dark lord to entrust him with what would be a life-or-death task, which they did not believe to y/n able to perform. 

and they were right, she couldn’t murder someone even though the dark mark had been impregnated in her arm since she was twelve; unlike draco that got his that week before school. he didn’t say anything. not even when his girlfriend approached to kiss him goodbye and meet again on platform 9 ¾ just a few hours before the return to hogwarts. 

draco was terrified, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but he said nothing.

that night apart was the first in a long time, a night that for the lack of company and what was ahead for them, he did not rest a minute. his head hovering in the fact that the ray of light, also called y/n, was almost involved in such a situation. he did not know that she had been involved for much longer than that vacation and that the mark had been placed on y/n’s arm, by that time, she was still an infant. y/n had lied, she said that she had obtained it just a few months ago.

"but it doesn’t hurt?, I heard that the first few months are fatal" her boyfriend stared at her, moving his eyes between hers and her arm. y/n wanted to say yes, that her first few months were horrible but she didn’t want to frighten him and tell him that a 12-year-old girl used to scream out of pain every night when she went to sleep. she was afraid he’d walk away, judge her. 

"I put on a lot of moisturizer to keep it from burning, so it doesn’t hurt so much" she wasn’t lying, but those lotions had long expired after she had used them. he gently kissed her arm wishing with all his might that, when he opened his eyes, the dark mark would have disappeared from y/n’s arm.

I just hope you see me

In a little better light

it was only a few hours before their re-admission to hogwarts when he refused the kiss that y/n went to give him when she saw him standing at the train station, alone with his suitcase.

 she thought he was waiting for her but he wasn’t. 

their reunion had been idealized in y/n’s head that night, in which draco had not been able to sleep, but she had. she had managed to fall in a deep sleep, being draco the last thing her brain thought consciously. she imagined that their reunion would be like those muggle romantic books she read hidden in the library of her house. something romantic and happy that people around would see as a movie scene.

but it was not so, he did not look her in the eyes. not even when they were already inside the train and y/n took a seat beside him in some padded seats. 

not even when he mentioned that he would stay a few more minutes on the train, giving permission to her, blaise and pansy to get off without him.

not even when y/n looked at him indignantly when she saw potter come into the great hall with a bloody nose, knowing exactly what he had done.

not even when she said good night with a kiss on his cheek before she left for her bedroom.

he looked at her for the first time when, surrounded by his minions. draco was having lunch without paying attention to the people around him. y/n had returned from the care of magical creatures class, when she saw him almost without expression, putting a piece of bread in his mouth. 

"hi, baby" y/n spoke softly as she sat in front of the mysterious blond. the word 'baby' caught the attention of his friends who shut up with the intention of meddling in the conversation.

"don’t call me that" her boyfriend spoke looking into her eyes. his eyes full of cold, transmitting seriousness and stress; very different from those she had enjoyed throughout the older days.

"draco, what's going on?" crabbe, goyle, zabini and millicent watched the situation on their sides. y/n thanked merlin internally, that pansy was not in the situation because otherwise her mockery would be endless.

"why the fuck do you care?" his hands trembled slightly on the table, but these immediately became fists when he saw the look of y/n on them. 

"why the fuck do I care? draco, you’re my boyfriend, of course I care" suddenly the laughter began to flood the, formerly silent, table. including draco who laughed out loud. a laughter that caused y/n’s body to begin to feel more and more weak.

"your boyfriend?!" replied the blonde keeping his arrogant smile "you’re crazy, really. what do they feed you at home? poison?" 

he knew perfectly well how he was hurting her. 

he knew perfectly well how he was crushing her heart into thousands of pieces. 

he knew she had always had a bad time in her own home, and yet it was the first thing he came up with to bother her. 

when he finished his second sentence, even millicent’s laughter bounced into y/n’s ears, she was supposed to be her friend. 

why endure more humiliation? y/n decided to leave the great hall as fast as she could and run to the bathroom where everyone would go to cry. it wasn’t the first time myrtle saw her come in with tears in her eyes, and she already knew how the girl didn't like to be invaded with questions as soon as she arrived, so the ghost held back.

Do you think it's easy

her knees were covering her chin as her eyes kept shedding tears and her mouth noisy sobs. everything had been a farce that she had swallowed as if it were a sip of warm milk. 

he had used her completely so he wouldn’t be alone on those scary holidays.

sitting on the floor of the damp bath her thoughts wandered in the beautiful memories she believed had been real and sentimental to both of them. 

she was not wrong. draco had to leave the great hall within minutes of her departure because his body was about to collapse, he felt that the panic attack he had not yet had that day, was about to blossom. so he ran straight into the prefects' bathroom, without avoiding shedding a few tears as he hurried over there. 

the only person who had never left his side was now heartbroken because of him. he had a reputation to maintain and a girl to keep safe, so pretending to hate her was the best option.

but his regret came faster than he thought. he never would have thought it would hurt so much to see her after that noon, where, indirectly, it was all over.

his body trembled every time he saw her sitting alone on the other end of the table. he had caused her to be left completely alone; she had devoted her entire attention and friendship so many years to him, that she had never developed such a deep friendship with anyone else, so she was now alone. 

Being of the jealous kind?

'Cause I miss the shape of your lips

she remained alone until the day draco saw her enter the great hall accompanied. 

it had been a month since those hateful words had come out of his mouth and he was getting worse, thinner and sadder every day. not only was he sad because he had to kill dumbledore in less than a month and a half, but he missed her. he missed her so much that, especially during the night, that nostalgia became present as physical pain that twisted him in his bed.

the night he saw her walk with neville by her side, smiling like she used to do with him, he definitely didn’t sleep. it was an image that would not be removed from his head; to see her eat with a little of her characteristic light back. he wept inconsolably at the fact that he had stolen and shattered that joy and it was someone else who was giving it back to her.

that night, thoughts consumed him like a lit candle. he was wondering if all that stuff he missed about her, now she was sharing them with someone else. He wondered if longbottom now owned her lips and her soft morning voice, if she kissed his cheek as he came out of the shower as she did with him, or if she had already learned how many spoonfuls of sugar he drank with his tea, as she had done with him.

Your wit

It's just a trick

thanks to luna and neville, y/n had come out of her misery faster than she thought.

but it still hurt; because everything made her remember, even the starry nights hurt her internally to the point of crying for hours. 

that’s why she avoided him as much as possible, she had begun to sit at the ravenclaw or gryffindor’s table since she had no one to sit with at her own house table.

"he’s looking this way," neville whispered, beside her as he ate "it’s scary"

"I don’t want to be here neville, can you eat a little faster please?"

in the months that passed, draco had not even tried to approach her. he was not brave enough. so when the day he was supposed to kill the headmaster came, y/n couldn’t get near the astronomy tower. she could not be near when such an atrocity was to be carried out. for what she waited uneasy at the entrance to the castle, she was betraying her recent friends and the entire institution, but she had a choice.

when bellatrix’s arrogant laughter began to approach, y/n knew that it was the time when they had to escaped from hogwarts without an early return date. 

when draco arrived at the place where she was standing, his only desire was to take her in his arms as he used to and run away with her where no one could find them. he saw her weak and worried and he just wanted to kiss the wrinkles on her forehead and make them disappear. he wanted to tell her that he couldn’t kill dumbledore, because her face had gotten in his brain; the memory of her by his side and how her presence used to make everything disappear.

but before he could get close, all the death eaters started dragging them out of the castle. in spite of potter’s screams that chased them, they continued to run into the forbidden forest, together. 

it would be a lie to say that when they entered the malfoy manor their fears calmed down, because the terror did not leave them alone even for two seconds. their bodies and minds were still in complete shock. their parents sent them to clean themselves as soon as they saw the two teens arrive, so y/n started to go to the guest bathroom that was almost hers, but her ex-boyfriend’s body stopped her in front of the door.

"y/n all I ask is that you listen to me" his voice was pleading and he dragged his syllables, almost as if he had been torn from a good dream and he would not fall asleep again. 

"I’m sorry but...no" she tried to pass, because tears threatened to leave her eyes, but draco’s body did not leave her. 

"nothing was true!"

"of course nothing was true! you lied to my face for months, made me believe you loved me!" the tears that had accumulated in her eyes now ran down her face without stopping, and to her surprise draco’s face was even more submerged in tears. "for years, draco, years. I gave you everything! my friendship and then my deep and devoted love! I gave you everything and you left me alone, without even explaining!" 

she was right, he had lost her because of his idiotic decisions that, in the end, made no sense. his body had weakened so much that y/n was able to move his body out of the front of the door to get into the room as fast as she could.

And this is it, so I'm sorry

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #imagine #one shots #harry potter #harry styles #to be so lonely #fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts #death eaters #voldemort #dark mark

[venusofthehardsells]

Lead You Back to Me [one-shot]

Sam WinchesterxReader

Summary: In the aftermath of a witch hunt gone very wrong, you find yourself slipping deeper and deeper into grief, pushing everyone around you away, including Sam. What will it take for the two of you to find your way back to each other? Warnings: angst, loss of a child, grief and depression, self-hate all around, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, lactation A/N: This is sad and I swear I didn’t mean to, I just wanted Sam to hold me and tell me he loved me. Shit happens. Enjoy or cry or whatever, I’m just grateful you’re reading! Let me know what you think if you want ♥

The hunt had been a bad one.

You knew it to the core of your being the moment you saw Dean's name flash on your phone screen in the darkness of your room.

Dean's name. Not Sam's.

Sam always sent you a text to let you know he was coming home to you, even if you didn't text him back, even if he'd only been gone a few hours. He always let you know.

If Dean was calling you, then…

Your throat was already thick with choked down sobs when your shaking fingers finally fumbled the phone to your ear just before it went to voicemail.

"Hey Y/N," came Dean's gruff voice. "We're on our way back."

You sighed in relief, but it came out as more of a quiet whimper.

"Still in one piece, your man, so don't worry, yeah? We're about four hours out. Listen, uh…" You could hear him hesitate as he considered his next words. "I know what you're going through ain't easy." He stopped again and you did your best to try and keep calm; something you had a hard time doing these days. "But this case… it was ugly. Sam's in a really bad place and he needs you. So be there for him."

Dean wasn't good with words, but his tone left nothing unsaid.

Since that witch hunt almost two months ago, you had barely left your bed. The days blurred together into a mindless cycle of sleeping, vomiting, crying and staring blankly into the wall or the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take you back into its numbing embrace. Hoping to not wake up again.

Your heart was in pieces. Every time you tried to pick them up and put them back together, the jagged edges cut you right back open and the seemingly unending grief inside of you poured into view until you were sure you would drown in it.

Sam had been there to cry with you, to hold your hair whenever the nausea forced you to your knees, to coax you into showers and back out again when you couldn't will your own exhausted limbs to move, to feed you even when you didn't want to eat. But most of all, he had held you in his arms long into the nights when the pain had grown so bad you could barely breathe and the only image in your mind had been of the witch's triumphant face as her magic ripped you open…

Through every nightmare, Sam had been there for you, steady as a rock you had hauled yourself against over and over.

The distress had made you blind to the possibility that Sam needed a rock too.

Ultimately, your grief wasn’t just yours to carry.

"Y/N?," came Dean's voice over the phone when you didn't answer, softer this time.

"Okay," you managed in a strangled whisper. It wasn't much, but it was all you could offer right now and it seemed good enough for Dean. You hadn't exactly been talkative lately.

"Okay. Good talk." He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Like I said, we're on our way. Four hours tops, we only stopped for gas. I'll see you when we get there."

He hung up and you were left once again in the almost total silence of the bunker.

Very slowly you lowered your phone to your lap, Dean's words echoing in your head.

Be there for him.

Be there for him like he had been there for you.

Be there for him like you hadn't been for a long time.

You swallowed and swung your legs off the bed, carefully putting your feet on the concrete floor as if it might bite at any given moment and force you to retrieve to the safety of your pillows and blankets.

When it didn't, you got up and turned on the light. It hurt your eyes at first; the only times you didn’t leave yourself in darkness was when Sam was there with you and decided you needed a break from the gloom.

The brothers had been gone for three days now and you had only left the bed to go to the bathroom once or twice during that time and your legs felt as solid as a five-tier mousse cake. The short few steps from the bed to the light switch had your vision blur and you were on the floor almost before you knew it, the dizziness surging over you with the force of the tide.You had to wait for it to ebb for several minutes before you attempted to get back up.

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have bothered.

You would have lain there on the cold, hard floor for those four hours it would take Sam to come home from the hunt and help you back into bed. Freezing, no doubt, every joint in your body stiff, and Sam would have been in a panic to find you like that, half-dead and not caring as he practically forced warmth back into you.

But now the guilt drew you to scramble to your feet and try again.

Be there for him.

You leaned on the doorframe as another wave of dizziness swept over you and waited with your forehead on the firmness of the wood until your heart had slowed down and the world stopped spinning. Sam was not going to find you on the fucking floor again.

With slow, careful steps, you made your way to the kitchen and took stock of the fridge.

It seemed your boys had kept it fully stocked on the off chance that you might actually eat something while they were gone. The shelves were loaded with your favourite things.

You had to blink away a few tears.

The only thing you’d managed to consume since they left was a single Mars-bar and you hadn’t even been able to keep that down for long. Nausea began to rise in you at the mere memory, but you fought it back down as you poured yourself a glass of water and forced yourself to drink it, slowly. When the glass was empty, you made yourself drink another.

Your stomach growled insistently. It had been several days since you had last felt hungry, as if your body had simply given up on trying to convince you to eat. The sight of food seemed to remind it that you needed more sustenance than air to survive and you had a lot to make up for.

With determination, you went to the pantry and found what you hoped you could endure: neutral crackers, white toast, a single apple.

You sat down on the doorstep and ate two of the crackers before even attempting to go back to the kitchen with your food. As expected, your vision turned blurry again, but it passed quicker this time.

It took you awhile to eat. Toasting the bread just enough to turn it crisp and shred the apple into tiny scraps seemed like small tasks, but in your state they felt herculean and very nearly made you give up. 

However, you refused to just go back to bed and wait to wither away completely. 

It hadn’t been far off. You wouldn’t move or speak or eat. Sam could only help you so much when you didn’t want to fight for yourself and he knew it, knew that he was losing you too. You had seen it in his eyes in the past week or so, the desperately buried knowledge that you were slipping through his fingers no matter what he did.

It should have made you angry at yourself, but you had been too far gone to really see it or care. All you had wanted was to vanish.

A large part of you still wanted that, but somehow those few, stern words Dean had spoken on the phone had flicked on a switch inside your head.

Be there for him.

You were not going to abandon Sam. Sam who had been strong for you even though he was probably hurting just as bad. You couldn’t do that to him. Even if all you did was hurt together, you had to be there for him too.

You couldn’t let that witch win.

With all the determination you could muster, you went back to the pantry and gathered a few more things. You were tired and wanted to sleep, but you reckoned you had slept enough for a lifetime already.

A look at the clock on the wall confirmed that you still had more than three hours before the brothers would be back and if it had been as bad as Dean had let on, they would no doubt be hungry and worn out. The least you could do was to make sure they had something to eat when they came home.

It was what you would have done in the past if you hadn’t been out with them on a hunt.

It was normal.

At least, it had been normal.

Now, the motions of turning on the oven and preparing the crust for the savoury pie you had made a thousand times before, felt foreign and unnatural to your hands. You chopped up vegetables at a quarter of your normal speed because your fingers wouldn’t quite close around the handle of the knife. The dough that you had once been able to knead in your sleep with your non-dominant hand now made sweat break out on your forehead and you had to take breaks to catch your breath.

Still, you went through the steps until the stupid quiche was in the oven and the smell of bacon and baked crust started to spread in the kitchen and made you bend over the sink to puke.

So much for eating, but at least you had put in the effort.

Feeling miserable and tired, but more accomplished than you had in months, you set the timer on the oven and went to take a shower. You were reeking of sweat and neglect beneath the scent of Sam’s oversized flannel shirt. He shouldn’t have to come home to that.

Not again at least.

The more you thought about it, the more guilty you felt and the more you realised just how much Sam had done for you.

You swallowed as you closed the door to the shower room and walked to the stall furthest from the door, the one you always used. All your products were stashed there, along with a few of Sam’s as well, and you stripped out of the flannel, grateful for the lack of mirrors in your little corner.

It still filled you with dread whenever you looked at the long white scar across your stomach where the witch had cut into you and stolen that tiny little life you had had growing there, barely even person-shaped yet and infinitely fragile, only covered in blood and magic.

You had to swallow hard and force yourself to turn on the shower.

The hot water streaming down on you eased the burning in your eyes and you were grateful for it. With movements small and shaky you began to gingerly wash yourself with your favourite shower gel, trying not to put too much focus on the body that felt so different and wrong under your touch.

There was the large scar on your shin as well from where you had landed on it when you tried to run from the witch and fell down half a flight of metal stairs.

Sam and Dean had been in two different rooms of the warehouse you had all been searching when they heard you scream and both had come running to save you, but by the time they reached you, it had been too late.

They had found you bleeding out in the middle of the floor, barely able to speak, while the witch had been trying to put that little, bloody thing into herself with magic. Before you could tell them what was happening, that they needed her alive to save you, to save the helpless little embryo in her grasp that your very soul was screaming belonged to you, the brothers had raised their guns and shot her. Dean through the head, Sam through the heart.

You clenched your teeth hard as you scrubbed on the skin of your arms, willing yourself back to the here and now.

Between Rowena’s best efforts and Cas’ waning grace, it had been difficult enough just putting you back together again. The other life inside you was irrevocably gone. There was no undoing it. You couldn’t go back and change what had happened, no matter how long you spent wallowing in the memory of it.

But you could make yourself presentable again and you could make sure there was food waiting for Sam and Dean when they got home from their hunt, even if it took every bit of strength you almost didn’t have.

When you deemed yourself to smell more like a clean human and less like a dead possum, you went on to lather a generous amount of shampoo into your hair that definitely needed a good rinse too. The soap stung your eyes, so you closed them and focused on the feeling of your fingertips rubbing your scalp. You had to admit it felt nice. And paired with the scaldingly hot water it helped distract you from the ache in your limbs, especially your breasts. 

They had been swelling with milk for a while now, even though you had no one to feed anymore. Rowena had warned you with pity in her eyes that the magic the dead witch had used to open you up would have side effects like this and there was nothing you could do but wait until it passed.

It felt as though your own body was betraying you by keeping you like this, reminding you every time you moved of what you had lost. The first time you had had to pump out the milk you had cried on the bathroom floor for hours; Sam had had to pick the lock to get to you. 

You just wanted it to stop.

Resolutely, you turned the water off and started toweling yourself dry. Unless Dean had finally foregone driving by the rules altogether, there was still time before the brothers were back. You could get yourself into some real clothes, set the table for the three of you and still have time to mix up a dessert.

It felt comforting having a purpose, but by the time you reached your room it became clear that you were spent. Plucking a pair of clean panties from your drawer and stealing a T-shirt from Sam’s almost made you topple over and as soon as you had put them on, you knew you wouldn’t get anything more done tonight.

In a haze, you walked to the kitchen and turned the oven off, letting the quiche sit in the residual heat to keep warm until the boys came back. Then you stumbled back into bed and drifted off into sleep almost immediately.

For the first time in weeks, it was heavy and dreamless.

You only got to spend one sorry hour in the darkness, though.

Maybe your body really had gotten enough sleep at this point or maybe you were just so attuned to his presence it automatically woke you up now. 

Whatever the case, you opened your eyes sometime during the night and found Sam standing halfway between the door and the bed, watching you with those big, mournful eyes of his.

You sat up slowly, still groggy with sleep, but somehow more alert than you had been in a long time. A slight tremor ran through him at your movement, but then his lips quivered into the smallest of smiles and he sat down next to you.

Sam leaned in and kissed you almost chastely on the forehead. He smelled of the Impala, of fire and smoke, and you reckoned he hadn’t showered after coming back, just gone straight to you.

“You cooked.” His voice was low and trembled a little, and you leaned into him, placing your arms around him and your head on his shoulder where you could sense the faltering rhythm of his breath. He was still wearing his jacket, hadn’t even bothered to unzip it yet and you felt your throat grow thick at the realisation.

Sam had practically existed for you since the witch hunt, been soft and considerate and stronger than anyone ought to be, but now he was sitting here still wearing his jacket, hardly even able to offer you his usual reassurances or words of affection.

Something had gone very wrong out there.

You squeezed his big, solid frame that suddenly seemed oddly small in your arms.

“Are you okay?,” you whispered, stroking his back softly and you could feel how he shattered beneath your touch.

He pulled you tight against him and burrowed his face into your neck, his body shaking with sobs. It broke your already helplessly crushed heart to feel him like this.

Be there for him.

Carefully, you crawled onto his lap in order to sit closer together and let him cry against you for as long as he needed to. You kept stroking his back and his head, never shushing him and never moving away. Instead, you did your best to make him know that you were there, breathing steadily to maybe let some of your brittle calm seep into him.

Whatever had happened on the hunt, you knew he blamed himself. Sam Winchester was the strongest person you had ever met, but even he couldn’t carry the weight on the world on his broad shoulders like he so often attempted and as a result he had spent all the time you had known him feeling painfully inadequate in nearly every aspect of his life. 

Maybe it had always been that way. People always died around him no matter how hard he fought, no matter how many he also saved, and in the end, he was left alone with nightmares full of faces of people he hadn’t been able to get to in time, an ever-growing list that had almost come to include you as well.

Right then and there, you knew you couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t leave him alone with the thought that you were one more person he had failed to save.

For something that felt like an eternity, you sat there with your arms around him, until finally his violent sobbing died down to sniffles and eventually faded completely.

You waited for a while before breaking the silence and asking in the softest tone in your register.

“Can you talk about it?”

He sniffled again and you could feel him draw a deep breath, bracing himself.

“Changelings,” he mumbled at last, swallowing hard. “We were… we were too late.”

His voice broke and took a piece of your torn heart with it.

“When we finally found their hiding place, it… it must have been days, I-I don’t know… I… We didn’t… I tried, I tried so goddamn hard, but he, he wouldn’t breathe and I couldn’t make him open his eyes, they wouldn’t open their eyes…”

Sam was shaking in your hold again and he clung to you now as if his life depended on it, clenching you far beyond comfort, but you let him. Your own fingers didn’t cease their almost mindless caress of his back. The front of your shirt was soaked in his tears and you realised your own face was wet too.

“They were just children,” he managed devastated and it felt as though a black hole had appeared right about where your stomach had been a few moments before. “They were so small and I, I couldn’t save them, I couldn’t… I’m sorry,” he sobbed and something in his trembling voice shifted. Somehow, your arms around him had never felt more inadequate. “If I’d just been faster, oh god. I should never have let you go back on your own, what was I thinking?! I’m sorry, baby, I’m so, so sorry. I nearly got you killed, I… I got our child killed…”

An icy cold fist closed around your lungs and squeezed.

He blamed himself. He blamed himself. 

Of course Sam Winchester would blame himself for this, just like he did everything else. How could you have been so self-absorbed?

He needed you more than ever and you had shut yourself away in your grief, from him, from everything.

"I don't know how you can stand to look at me," he admitted quietly.

A whimpering little excuse of a sob broke from your throat like water slipping through your fingers. His words hurt so badly you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to cry rivers, but fuck, hadn't you already done enough of that lately?

With a body that trembled to obey, you pushed away from him enough for you to softly place your hands on each side of his face and forced him to meet your eyes in the half-dark.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Instead, you just held onto his gaze until you could see that he understood you were not going to look away from him.

Very slowly, you leaned forward and placed your lips against his.

He hesitated at first, unsure of what exactly was kissing him: the woman he loved or a broken pile of grief that had assumed her shape, longing for oblivion?

The velvet of his mouth was not as easy to gain access to as you were used to, but after all this time, you supposed you deserved as much.

You pulled away just a fraction.

"Sam, if it weren't for you, I would be dead," you whispered, kissing his cheek the way he had kissed yours so many times when you had been at your lowest.

"You are everything to me." He let out a shuddering breath that might have also been a sigh of relief when you slowly kissed him on the other cheek too.

“And I love you”.

You didn't try to force another kiss on him. You didn't need to.

With your silent permission, he crashed his mouth to yours so fiercely you were glad of his arms holding you to him. His lips burrowed into you over and over again with a desperate hunger you were more than willing to sate, even if it meant you would pass out before coming up for air. He hadn't kissed you like this since it happened, hadn't let him. Instead you had turned your head away until eventually he stopped trying. Chaste pecks on your forehead had been all you had allowed in your liminal state of silent despair, but now you realised just how starved you were too.

You couldn't help but moan loudly when his tongue pushed past your lips and the sound made him draw back in surprise. His eyes had fallen shut as you kissed, but now they were wide open as if truly seeing you for the first time that night: freshly-showered, heat radiating off your body and irises blown black with want, mirror images of his own.

But, more importantly, behind the dark pools of lust, you reckoned he could finally see another person staring back. You were truly there with him in the here and now.

“I want you so much, baby,” he rasped and you realised that he was still trembling under your touch. “Please… let me make you feel good again?”

His lips were back on yours as soon as you nodded and you eagerly opened your mouth, wanting his tongue back. You weren’t just hungry, you were practically ravenous for him.

Moans started building up in your throat almost faster than you could let them out and Sam tilted his head to continue kissing his way down your jaw and your neck, reveling in the sounds he drew from you, but never straying too far from your lips.

Instead he used his fingers to trace patterns of electricity down your back and up your arms, across your collarbones and down your chest again. You whined a little when his hands grabbed hold of your sore and swollen breasts, but he quickly took the hint and went on to drag his hands further down your body. The heat nearly erupted inside you when he cupped your mound through your panties and proceeded to slide his fingers past the flimsy waistband to stroke your clit.

Immediately, you began to rock yourself against his hand. It had been too long, his kiss alone had left you soaked and your walls were already quivering with need.

“Sam, please,” you begged, fingers clutching at his hair. “More-mff!”

He cut you off by shoving his tongue back into your mouth, effectively swallowing your gasp as he pushed a finger in between your wet folds all the way down to his knuckle.

"I've got you, baby," Sam whispered between heavy kisses. "I've got you."

He easily stroked you right to the edge of what you could take, crooking his finger inside of you just right and you dug your nails into his shoulders, holding on tight as hot sparks of pleasure flared up from where he was touching you, making you groan into his mouth.

Your cunt greedily accepted another one of his long fingers. They filled you so perfectly you were certain you would die if he took them away. With the heel of his hand he kept rubbing your clit while scissoring his fingers in you, reacquainting himself with the feel of you until at last the pressure in you burst and you came with a wordless cry, head buried in his shoulder and hips stuttering against him.

Sam kept stroking you through the orgasm, prolonging it until you were so sensitive you had to squeeze your walls around him to make him stop.

He stilled his hand and you slumped against his large frame, breathing in his scent as you came down from the rush. A rush, you realised, you had missed more than you knew.

You hadn't touched yourself since the witch hunt, disgusted as you were with your own body and out of your mind with grief. The few times you had thought about it, any urge had wilted as soon as you slipped your fingers past the fabric of your underwear and you had ended up crying instead. And just as you hadn't let Sam kiss your lips, you had turned away from his hands as well whenever he had indicated he wanted more than to hold you. The knowledge that his child was gone from where it had been growing inside of you, that your body was now empty had made any further intimacy with Sam impossible to bear. Your mind wasn't idle telling you over and over again how spectacularly you had let him down, how you were worthless now, worthless and empty and broken. A failure, at everything.

You were nothing but a brittle shell of a person, fractured beyond repair and Sam would realise soon enough, too. 

"Sweetheart?"

You realised you must have sniffled out loud enough for him to hear.

Be there for him. 

Banishing all thoughts of your own misery the best you could, you leaned down and kissed him on the neck, just inside of the collar on his red and white flannel.

"Take this off," you whispered, slowly undoing the topmost button and you could feel a shudder run through him, all the way to his fingers still in your cunt.

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm," you hummed and started in on the next button, brushing your lips languidly over the underside of his jaw.

A low groan began in the bottom of his throat, but he didn't move.

"I- I need to hear you say it," he demanded in a strained voice, clasping your hands in his unoccupied one before you could snap open the next button of his shirt. "I have to know you mean it."

Why did he have to see right through you like that? Even high-strung with arousal and the pent-up adrenaline and distress of a hunt gone bad, he still read you like an open book.

Your throat felt as hard and unyielding as a glass ball, but you managed to speak around it.

“I do want it, Sam,” you got out, briefly proud that you could keep your voice steady. “I want to feel you… here…” You clenched your walls around his fingers, keeping his hand in place. “Please, darling. Make me yours again?”

His fingers began to lose their hold on your wrists and so you eagerly continued unclasping the buttons of his flannel. You had to bite your lip not to whine too loudly when he pulled his fingers from the snug warmth of your pussy, but the sound quickly turned into a gasp as he tore the last few buttons of his shirt himself, shrugging out of the plaid and practically ripping the white undershirt next.

"Anything you ask, baby," he breathed onto your neck before kissing your sensitive skin there. You arched up into the feeling of his mouth, letting him guide your body down onto the sheets beneath him. His weight on top of you was a welcome one and you laced your fingers in his messy, windswept hair as he licked his way from your neck onto your tongue, keeping you close while his hands worked first on your panties, then on the zipper of his jeans.

As soon as all offending pieces of clothing were gone, you folded your legs around his hips to feel the hot, heavy weight of his cock against your core. You ground your hips upwards once, twice and Sam let out a strangled groan at the feeling of your soaked folds sliding over him, teasing him harder and harder.

He pressed your hips down with one hand to make you stop and grabbed his cock with the other, lining up with your entrance, still slick from your previous orgasm. As soon as the bulbous head of his cock began pressing into you, just the first inch, you threw your head back into the pillows with a cry. The stretch of him was divine, it was almost too much. Tears of pleasure rose to your eyes and you clung to his shoulders as he slowly sank into you until his thatch of dark hair was flush against yours and you were so deliciously full of him you wanted to scream.

“F-fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Sam moaned into the side of your neck. Both of you trembled with the desire coursing through your joined bodies and you whimpered when he drew his hips a little back from yours, only to thrust back in and make you gasp instead.

Sam set a steady pace of slow, deep thrusts that allowed you to savour each and every heavenly drag of his cock against your sensitive walls until you were sure you would lose your mind with pleasure.

The longer he moved in you, the more sloppy his mouth on your skin became, the more desperate his hands until he was practically forcing you down into the mattress and you realised through the haze of bliss that he was afraid you would disappear beneath his touch.

His hands found the hem of your T-shirt and gave it a questioning tug, halting his movements to a gentle roll of his hips against you. That grey T-shirt was the last piece of fabric separating you.

“Can I take this off you?,” Sam asked breathily, pleadingly and you found yourself nodding, allowing him to lift it up your stomach, then your chest, then over your head and toss it to the side. Only then did you realise that you had stopped breathing.

The thought of how your naked body looked in the mirror now was suddenly all you could think about, the long, awful scars marring your stomach, your stupid, painfully swollen breasts that wouldn’t stop leaking… Shit.

It wasn’t just Sam’s tears that had soaked the T-shirt. You had been so caught up in comforting Sam that you hadn’t even noticed. As if it wasn’t bad enough that it reminded you of your grief and your guilt all the time, now Sam had to look at it too and the thought alone was almost enough to make you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’ll… I’ll go get cleaned up, I didn’t mean…”

The words died upon your lips when you caught Sam's expression in the half-dark. His eyes were sparkling, mesmerised by the white leaking from your sore nipples. Slowly, as if in a trance, he leaned down and placed his mouth on your breast, licking the trail of milk from your skin.

“S-Sam, you don’t have t-to… oh.” Oh. His lips closed around your nipple before giving it a tentative suck. “Ah!”

The little stinging sensation that itched in you at first was nothing compared to the almost ecstatic relief you felt when some of the weight was lifted from your breast, flowing into Sam’s gentle mouth. He moaned at the taste and sucked harder, making you whimper and arch your back up into him. You were sore, but Sam was all soft lips and hot tongue lapping and suckling at your flesh. Slowly, he started moving again, timing each brush of his cock against that sweet, aching spot inside of you with a suck on one of your nipples, stroking the warm, pulsing need in you until your entire body was throbbing with desire.

You clung to him almost as hard as he did you, digging your fingertips into his shoulder and the back of his head while he kept worshipping your breasts with his mouth, moaning deep in his throat you all the while. 

The sensations were all too much and at the same time not quite enough.

“Sam, please… I’m so close,” you mewled, the muscles in your legs straining around him.

“Me too, baby,” he panted, immediately making his thrusts come faster and the sound of skin slapping against skin started to mix with your cries and groans of pleasure.

Fuck, how had you ever managed to turn him down?

The white-hot pressure in you burst and you came around his cock with a loud cry and blissful tears running down your cheeks. You soared on the waves of your release, cradling Sam against you and with a groan muffled by your chest, he came too, stilling inside of you while the walls of your cunt milked him for all he had, prolonging your own orgasm until your vision began to flicker, black spots, white spots, an explosion of fire shooting through your veins.

Every muscle in you went limp and you fell back against the pillows with your arms still holding onto Sam the best you could. You didn’t move to push him off. Instead you closed your eyes and tried to focus on the tickle of his hair against your neck, his fingers still desperately digging into your hips and thighs, and the warm weight of his frame on top of yours, his cum hot and sticky between your legs where he was still buried in you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this good and safe, but surely it must have been before… well, before the witch broke you.

Sam lay completely spent in your arms, breathing heavily as he came down from his high. You didn’t want to let go of him ever again. Almost on instinct, you clenched him a little tighter.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” you whispered so quietly you weren’t sure at first if he had heard it. The silent words were followed by the shadow of a sob, hardly more than a tremble in your breath and a new trickle of tears that all too easily turned your ebbing pleasure bittersweet.

“Why?” His voice was raspy and not much louder than yours. Just as you had feared, his hold on you started to loosen as he pulled back and looked down at your wet face.

“For putting you through this,” you managed in a choked excuse of a whisper. “For letting you down…”

“No, don’t say that. Hey! Look at me,” he urged when you closed your eyes again to try and stem the flow of tears. “Baby, I love you. Don’t you know? You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in this cursed life and I can't…" Sam had to stop and swallow around the lump in his throat. "I can't fathom how you still want me, but as long as you do, I'll be there for you. Because I want to. You're not putting me through anything, okay?"

And as you looked into those sad, adoring eyes of his, you saw nothing but truth shining back at you. He meant it.

“Okay.” You sniffled, overwhelmed, but happy when Sam leant down to kiss you deeply on the mouth to accentuate his point. His mouth was sweet after having feasted on your milk and you couldn’t help a contented sigh as you sampled the taste. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you ought to have been disgusted, but you didn’t really care when everything about kissing Sam just felt so right. You readily indulged when his tongue parted your lips to tangle with your own at a much slower pace than earlier. Arousal started to gather in your belly again until it felt like a pleasant hum stroking and relaxing your limbs. Your hands found their favourite position of their own accord: buried in his hair, while Sam’s arms gently folded their way back around your waist.

After a while of lazily making out, Sam finally broke away with a reluctant smile on his lips. It was the first time you had seen him so at peace for months.

“As nice as this is,” he muttered, his nose brushing yours, “we really ought to get cleaned up”.

“Don’t wanna move,” you answered, hardly ever breaking contact with his kiss-swollen lips and he grinned at that, making your heart soar so high and so far you almost thought it would never come back down.

“Neither do I,” Sam sighed, squeezing your body close. “But we have to. Come on. I promise we’ll get just as comfortable when we get back.”

“Fine,” you grumbled with the corners of your mouth turning upwards almost against your will. “But only if you say you love me again.”

His smile was as bright and as beautiful as the stars.

Tags: @renxzs​ @lilana56 @fouramtwohourstogo​ @corishirogane3​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @cake-writes​ @sagechanoafterdark​

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester angst #sam winchester smut #sam winchester one shot #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #lol no one is following me for sam so i'm just tagging a few mutuals feel free to ignore #not beta'd i die alone

[angstyaches]

Go To Him

For the love of god will someone just take care of this boy -

CW: nightmare with body horror elements, anxiety, nausea, confusion and muddled thoughts, fever, the babe is generally ✨unwell✨, reference to grief for a parent, angst

___

Shayne had dreamt of his voice since the first time Charlie had ever tried to comfort him. Ever since he learned that his name could be said with something other than disgust or reluctance, he’d heard himself being called from all corners of the earth as he slept. Ever since he learned that hands could be used for holding, not just for pinning down and hurting, he’d reached for them under the sheets, often failing to find them.

Ever since he started to consider that there was more to life than what he’d been raised for, his dreams had been in colour. This dream was green.

The grass was dark and glistening with fallen rain as clouds gathered and promised that more would fall. The freezing cold jar lay emptily in his hands, its weight boring into his skin and searing its meaning into him. This is what you are. His jaw ached from being unhinged, and it snapped sharply as he tried to stretch it out. The jar fell from his hands as he clutched at it, terrified that his whole head might fall apart under the force of the pain.

He wanted to call out for Charlie. He was scared and confused and hurting, and Charlie always seemed to ease those feelings.

But when his jaw clicked into place, he opened his mouth and he said his own name instead. Or rather, something said his name through his mouth, but it wasn’t his voice.

“Shayne,” it said softly, and he clutched at his own throat as something else grabbed at it from the inside. “Let me out.”

///

He woke like he’d been stunned, lying rigid at the edge of the bed as his eyes stared widely across the room. For a moment – a nice one, in retrospect – he couldn’t remember why he’d woken, but when he did, it hit hard.

He stumbled into the bathroom, hands shaking and shoulder colliding with the doorframe on the way. One hand was pressed to his stomach and he was already doubled over before he reached the toilet.

Get it out, get it out, get it out of me, he almost cried, forcing out sobs and dry heaves that jerked him further forward across the toilet seat. He realised that the it in his plea had almost been a him, he’d almost called the demon a him, a familiar him, a beloved him –

And then he remembered that it was a dream.

“Fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes in relief. The tension left him so quickly he swore he felt every one of his joints pop. It was a dream, it was a dream; there was nothing in his stomach that had the ability to talk back to him, and it was certainly not Charlie Two. It’d been days since he’d even devoured a demon.

When he was able to stand, he leaned over the sink and sipped some running water, hoping it would calm his stomach rather than agitate it. In the mirror, he looked more washed-out than he usually did between devouring. His ears were ringing, and his chest hurt, probably from waking up with such intense anxiety. It was as though the nightmare had carved something out of him, left him longing in a way he wasn’t used to, and the first thing he found when he followed that thread of emotion was Mum, I want my mum. A sharp pain rose in his throat at the thought and he quickly smothered it, and the next one was of Charlie.

Charlie. Something might have happened to him. Right? It made perfect sense in the moment, while his body was shaking, and his head felt like a swamp. Maybe the dream was supposed to be a sign or a warning or a –

And the next thought was so crazy and obvious that he shook his head at it, refused to meet his own gaze in the mirror, fearing he would all too easily talk himself out of it.

Go to him.

___

Shayne was used to pain and general unpleasantness in his body. He was never surprised when a demon tried to claw its way out of him, turning his stomach and burning his throat with bile and making him throw up all kinds of crap as its essence broke up inside of him.

But he wasn’t familiar with this different sort of ache that was crawling up his chest and throat. Instead of something that rushed like a waterfall, this was more like a glacier, sending chills through his organs and making him shudder involuntarily. He missed his bed and his hot water bottle. Hell, he would have accepted a burning-hot hug from Elliott if he’d been there. And he absolutely wished he’d worn something more than just a t-shirt and his leather jacket.

No doubt he was isolated on the train because people were taking one glance and deciding that he had some kind of plague. Not that he was complaining about that. What he could have complained about, however, was the swirling nausea in his belly that he couldn’t find any relief from, the pressure in his head that made his ears ring, the grating agony in his lungs and throat. When he looked out the window at the dark countryside passing by, the undersides of his eyes were black in his reflection.

Finally, finally, he heard the name of a familiar stop. His legs were next to useless as he attempted to get to the door of the train, resting his head against a wall as he waited for it to stop, for the doors to open, and he damn-near almost fell asleep on his feet.

___

He’d forgotten his phone, he realised as he stood in the entranceway of the train station. Then again, he couldn’t forget something he’d never intended to bring in the first place. The thought just hadn’t occurred to him, not even while he’d been scribbling down a quick explanation for Felix and Elliott so that they’d know where he’d gone. 

He remembered the way to the Waters’ new house from the station, even though he had been in a car last time he’d come; but it was bucketing down rain and he didn’t have so much as a hood to pull up.

He wondered if he’d have called Charlie at that point, if he could, and asked him to come and get him. Probably not. That would mean putting him out even more than he was already planning to.

The rain made itself part of his clothes so quickly he might as well have gone swimming in them.

___

Evening was closing in on the housing estate when he got there, after what felt like hours but was probably only one in reality. The curtains were drawn in the front room, leaving a faint glow around the edges to indicate life inside. Shayne’s breath stuck in his throat as he stepped onto the porch, finally out of the downpour.

He couldn’t believe how uncomfortable his eyes felt in his head, how high the pain had risen in his throat, how shaky his limbs were. He was starting to wonder if this whole day had been an extension of that messed-up dream. Charlie would know. Charlie would tell him why he was feeling like this… 

Charlie would make it better...

The doorbell faded in and out of his vision, and the first time he reached for it, his palm touched the glass pane of the door instead. Shit. If his throat and mouth and chest hadn’t felt so unbearably dry, he’d have thought he was about to throw up. It was stupid, actually, how dry and hot he felt inside while his outsides were drenched.

Shayne tried for the doorbell again, succeeding in ringing it this time. Doubt crept up his spine as droplets of rain fell from his hair and down his face. He was suddenly nervous on top of everything else, the sensation gnawing at his gut. He hadn’t thought about what he was going to say; thinking usually felt like taking steps through his thoughts, but right now it was like trying to tread water with weights tied to his feet.

He folded his arms tightly around himself, grimacing against the urge to just curl up on the doorstep and cry until someone came to get him.

The door clicked as it unlocked.

“Shayne!” Trevor exclaimed as he opened it. Shayne couldn’t tell if it was a question or not. “What are – what are you doing here?”

Ingrid came to the door too, when she heard her husband’s voice rise. Her eyes were wide and so was her mouth, as she pulled the front of her dressing gown more firmly around herself with folded arms.

“Sweetie, it’s lashing rain!” she exclaimed, peering out past the doorstep as though checking the driveway and sidewalk for a car. “Did you walk here from the station?”

“I-I – yeah, I heard – I heard from Charlie… kind of, not really, and… and… well, it was a dream, but he was – I h-hurt him, or it - it was a demon, I just don’t… I-I mean, I think it was just – just a nightmare, but they’re – the demons, my foster parents, everything’s – maybe…”

Shayne heard it, he heard how awful his voice sounded through his battered throat, and how little sense he was making, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“And… and I had to see him, I’m – I know it’s late and it’s n-not okay to just show up uninvited, but I was s-so fucking worried about – sorry. Shit, I-I didn’t m-mean to swear just now, I…”

Both their faces fell as he stopped talking, and his stomach did too.

“Shayne, sweetie,” Ingrid said. “Charlie doesn’t live here.”

It took the words a moment to penetrate the fog in Shayne’s head and click into place. The way the two of them were standing in the doorway suddenly made sense, their shoulders tensed and their bodies forming a barrier he couldn’t cross. He wasn’t a guy coming to see his friend, he was a guy trying to get into their home on a random, rainy night.

“He…” Shayne blinked and felt himself start to sway.

“He didn’t tell you?” Trevor demanded incredulously, the rise in his voice making Shayne flinch. “He went back to Mulberry after the holidays. He’s finishing school there.”

“I… no, he’s…” Shayne’s skin tingled with hot-and-cold panic, his ears rang with in trouble, in trouble, you’re in trouble. He lowered his gaze, looking at how the rain lay in patches on the painted floorboards in the porch, carried there by the wind, or by him. “No, I’m – I’m s-sorry, I didn’t...”

He felt Charlie’s parents stare at him for a few moments longer before the embarrassment settled firmly in the pit of his stomach. And when it did, it made every hair on his body bristle, made the tears finally spring to his eyes, made his shoulders lift stiffly towards his ears.

“S-sorry,” he choked out, stepping back from the door. “I – I’ll just…”

“Sweetie,” Ingrid sighed, reaching into the rain to pull him back onto the porch. “At least come inside and get dry. One of us will drive you back to the station.”

Shayne whimpered at the hand gripping his upper arm, fear crawling into the space where anger usually flared whenever he was grabbed. He was too exhausted to fight or struggle, and he didn’t want to fight Ingrid anyway.

“Oh, my god.” Ingrid lifted her hand, and Shayne flinched, the fog in his brain making him think that he was going to be slapped. Instead, she brushed back some dripping-wet hair, and rested a cool palm on his forehead. “Trev? I think he’s got a temperature.”

Trevor said something in response, but Shayne closed his eyes to all of it, unable to think about anything but the blissfully cool hand that was taken away again. If tears fell from his eyes, they were undistinguishable from the rainwater. The cold and the wet were seeping into his bones, his body getting ready to give up.

“Do you have a phone number for the people he’s staying with?” Trevor asked gently.

“No, but I can look up the number for his foster parents –”

“N-no,” he gasped, putting a hand to the wall again as his vision started to go black. “N-no, no, no, no, you ca-can’t call Madelyn, don’t call Madelyn, don’t tell her where I am, she’ll hu– I-I can’t let her find you, I can’t… can’t let her hurt Charlie…”

“Alright, come on, son. Come on, no – no, no, don’t collapse just yet. There you go, come on…”

There were hands on him again, but there wasn’t anything left for him to care with. All he knew was that those hands weren’t Charlie’s, they weren’t his mum’s, and that second thought stuck in the back of his throat like a shard of glass.

He was vaguely aware of being led through the house, remembered noticing when the sound of the rain faded softly into the background instead of pelting down all around him. He was handed a towel and pyjamas and shown to the bathroom, all of it tinged in warm pink tones and cold shivers. He remembered saying yes when they asked if he would be okay by himself; he was always okay by himself. He was used to being okay by himself. He wouldn’t ask for anything more, because asking led to –

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything.” Ingrid’s hand on his shoulder, her face slowly coming into focus for all of a few seconds. “Okay?”

“’Kay,” he whispered, the shard tightening in his throat as she left him alone in the bathroom and shut the door. His clothes were dripping, and sank heavily as he put them on the floor. The shower was already running for him, not hot enough to produce a lot of steam. Still hotter than what got at either of his vampire-run homes.

Shayne lost his breath for a moment, feeling so dizzy he thought he might pass out. He could only manage to stand under the water long enough to be sure the rainwater was washed off. The pyjama pants and hoodie that he’d been given smelled just like Charlie, which he couldn’t decide was better or worse than nothing at all. They felt crisp against his skin, he instantly knew they’d been tumble-dried.

“Are you okay?” Ingrid called through the door not long after he’d shut the water off.

“Fine,” he tried to say, but the word caught in the back of his throat and he coughed, wondering for a second if he was about to be sick. He turned towards the sink, hands shaking as he held onto it, but the clenching in his chest had nothing to do with his stomach, and everything to do with his lungs, which felt like they had a mixture of feathers and pins thrashing inside of them.

“Sweetie?” Ingrid pushed the door open a few inches. “Are you dressed? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, I-I’m…” Shayne tried to clear his throat, though he only succeeded in making his voice even more gravelly. “I’m fine, sorry.”

Ingrid put out an arm for him to hold onto as he eased himself away from the sink. He head felt like it was being balanced on a toothpick.

“Let’s get you settled in Charlie’s bed,” she said, and it took a moment for Shayne to remember that Charlie wouldn’t actually be there. “You can sleep here tonight, but we have to contact someone and let them know where you are. Won’t your aunts be worried about you?”

“I left –” Shayne winced and swallowed back the urge to cough again, not wanting to unleash whatever he was carrying so close to Ingrid. “Left a m-message for… my cousin.”

“Alright,” Ingrid said, though she sounded dubious. “If you’re feeling better tomorrow, I’ll drive you back to the train station.”

Shayne wondered what was going to happen if he didn’t feel better in the morning, because right then it felt like his brain was never going to go back to the way it had been before it had become a dense, foggy wasteland for his thoughts. He had no idea how he got up the stairs, or which of Charlie’s parents had brought him a cup of hot lemon for his throat, or at what point the tears started again, because all of a sudden he was in the middle of crying softly into a pillow that was quickly losing its pleasantly cool temperature, and he wanted his mum.

“Shayne.” Trevor’s weight dipped the side of the mattress slightly. Once again, hearing his name in a stern voice made Shayne’s anxiety spike right up, skewering everything else he was feeling.

He jumped when Trevor touched his shoulder from outside the duvet, a nervous whimper scraping at his throat.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Trevor assured him, holding a mobile phone out towards him. “Here. It’s Charlie.”

“Charlie?” Shayne’s vision blurred a little as he tried to focus on the phone. “Can… Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m giving you the phone, son.”

Shayne’s hands were shaking as he untangled an arm from the duvet. He took the phone and held it to his ear, watching as Trevor smiled and got to up leave. He held his breath for a moment, silence tickling his nerves, before some part of his fog-addled brain remembered that the person picking up the phone had to say something to let the other person know they were there.

“Hello,” he said in a tiny voice that still managed to strain his vocal cords.

“Shayne!” Charlie gasped on the other end of the phone. “Lovely, I can’t – I can’t believe you went to my parents’ place. Holy shit, are – are you okay?”

“N-no…” Shayne’s chest ached with something beyond sickness, the shivering starting up again at the sound of Charlie’s voice, probably intensified by nerves and adrenaline. “I n-needed… I thought you’d be h-here.”

“I know,” Charlie whispered, sounding like he was almost in tears himself. “I know, I know, lovely. I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to drive up first-thing tomorrow. Okay?”

“Mmm.” Shayne’s eyes closed of their own accord at the mention of sleep, his bones and his head aching to just be allowed to relax without trying to think or react to anyone. Meanwhile, his heart was clenched tight with the need to have Charlie there, to have Charlie now, and he gritted his teeth in frustration at himself. “Sorry I’m so… selfish, and childish, I-I – I don’t know what I was… thinking…”

“Selfish?”

“I want you,” Shayne breathed, burying his head lower on the pillow, blocking his own view of the room. “A-and my mum, I want my mum, Charlie…”

Charlie’s breath hitched on the phone, and he took a moment longer than usual to reply. Shayne fought back a sob, knowing that it was going to be a big one if it ever saw the light of day. He couldn’t be sure, but he couldn’t remember ever voicing those words before.

“Shayne, that’s – that’s not selfish. Okay? I promise. I – I love you so much, and I’m so fucking sorry I’m not there… I shouldn’t have lied to you about moving.”

Shayne tried to hold in the sob a little longer, but couldn’t stop his breath from hitching as coughs wracked his lungs and his frame too.

Charlie gave a quiet whimper at the sounds. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Shayne choked out, brushing his cheek against the top sheet to dry off some of the tears. The phone was starting to feel clammy between his hand and his cheek. “I just really… don’t feel good.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

As he got his breathing under control, the sharpness of the chest pains faded back into a dull, scratchy ache. Shayne focused on the crisp white duvet that swallowed him almost all the way to the top of his head, on the glow from the touch-activated lamp on the bedside locker, which turned the magnolia walls a soft orange. There was a strange sort of quiet, the kind that lingered after a door was closed and voices hushed. A deliberate, crafted quiet.

“God,” Charlie whispered down the phone. “I wish I was there. I wish I could hold your hand right now.”

“Mmm,” Shayne agreed, though he reckoned his fingers wouldn’t have had the strength to stay furled around Charlie’s. What he really wanted was Charlie’s body curled around his back, and his arms holding onto him until the shaking stopped. Just the idea of it, and the presence of his voice - that voice - was like an extra layer of warmth between his skin and the bedsheets.

“I’m in bed, too... I’m going to stay on the phone until you drift off.” Charlie’s voice was falling into softer and softer whispers by the second. “And if you go for a nice, long sleep, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Part Two: Charlie

#sickfic #fever fic #angst fic #OC sickfic #my OCs #sick boys #fever #nausea #headache #rain whump #caught in the rain trope #grief mention #hurt and comfort #hurt comfort #hurt comfort fic #sick Shayne #long post #long fic

[killthe-illusionarydreams]

Chronic Emptiness

Fred x reader

After the war

Summary: Y/N having a depressive episode & Fred trying to help her through it. Basically me living vicariously through her. Soft moment.

Warning: Mentions of depression & plainly feeling like shit

——————

Y/N was exhausted. Not by her job or work, just mentally drained. This sort of thing happened sometimes. One moment she was okay, the next it all came crashing down on her & she’d feel pure hatred for the world she was living in. Fred had gotten used to it by now, he’d be the ever so caring boyfriend & try to help her through it however he could. Exept he really couldnt do much but reassure Y/N that he was there for her.

And of course Y/N appreciated him & all his efforts, she loved Fred more than life itself & everyone knew that. But sometimes she just needed space. Like today.

They were at a bar with George & Angelina and several other mates after their shifts had all ended from their various occupations. George & Fred at their joke shop, Angelia at the Ministry, Y/N at St Mungos.

Y/N never truly felt like she belonged, not growing up at home, not at Hogwarts, & certainly not in St Mungos where she was working as a nurse. Its not that she hated the job, more like it didn’t particularly cause her immediate joy. She just did it. She got on with it & did what she had to.

As her friends were dancing to the music Y/N leant into her boyfriends ear so he’d hear her say “Hey Fred I think I’m gonna head home early today, I’m tired.”

The man looked up at her, as if trying to read her thoughts “D’you want me to come with love?”

Y/N shook her head, declining the offer “No dont worry. I’ll go through the park, I need some fresh air anyway.” Fred nodded & bid her goodbye with a kiss, telling her to stay safe. “I’ll see you at home.”

It was already dark outside, the tall streetlamps being the main source of light for the woman, but she wasnt really paying attention to where she way going, not caring enough to look. Y/N got to the park near the flat where her & Fred lived, deciding to make a pitstop there she sat on one of the wooden benches that overlooked a small river.

Letting out a heavy sigh she put her head into the palms of her hands, it was feeling all too heavy lately. “Dear Merlin I’m so tired.” Mumbling, the woman rolled her head in her hands before sitting back up and gazing at the sky. Oh how beautiful it looked tonight.

Lighting up a cigarette, she put it to her lips & took a long inhale. She was supposed to be quitting smoking, Fred always got on her about continuing the habbit. In all honesty Y/N didnt care enough to stop, at this point she wasnt even sure if she still got the same boost of seratonin from smoking as she used to. But again, it didnt bother her.

“Fuck me why is life so draining?” She asked no one in particular, she knew why it was draining, the abundance of issues with her brain promptly being the answer. She just wished it were easier. Easier to deal with things.

Realistically Y/N had nothing to be unhappy about anymore, there was no war, she had a good life, an amazing boyfriend, a stable job, decent friends. But there was a permanent void in her heart that could never be filled. Ever since she was a child it stayed with her. Maybe her cold & harsh, unloving parents brought it on, or maybe how she didnt let herself feel love & would distance herself from anyone that ever got close to her. But it was there. Unmovable.

The woman let the smoke out from her mouth, sighing at why she was having another one of her episodes, feeling shitty about having said episode. Yet, there was nothing she could do to stop it from occuring. “Fuck off brain.” She mumbled to herself, cursing her biology & upbringing “Stop feeling so Shit.”

“I keep you alive you ungrateful idiot.” She huffed to herself “And I’m doing a pretty good job, so stop making me feel like its my fault.” It wasnt her fault. If it were, Y/N would know how to fix it & evidently stop feeing this way.

Some would say the war brought this Y/N on, but people knew that she was like this way before. However, before she was better at hiding it. Better at hiding the dark circles, the restlessness, the ‘I dont care what happens to me’ attitude. In all honesty it didnt bother Y/N that people knew she was like this, she didnt do it on purpose. And when she could- she’d be happy- the life of the party, in those instances she could hide her feelings. But sometimes they just got too overwhelming to bare.

“You’re being such a selfish prick.” She sighed and puffed on yet another cigarette “Go home Y/N. Go to the man who loves you.” Yet she made no motion to move. It’d probably been two hours since she left the bar, she wasnt keeping track of time, not feeling the need to.

Sometimes she thought that Fred didnt love her, not because he said something or did something, but because she thought that Fred puts up with her. Which wasn’t true, the man loved her to death, she made him feel alive. Y/N was a risk taker, an adventurer, someone that kept you on your toes- & he admired that about her. Y/N was smart & funny & the most gorgeous person Fred had ever seen, but he knew that behind her sarcasm & faux narcissistic comments, she didnt believe it. Oh what he’d give for the woman to see herself through his eyes.

A few more minutes passed & the woman got up with a sigh, throwing the butt of her cigarette down, she made her way home.

The door creaked open, a little too loudly for Y/N’s taste, she winced at the sound, hoping it wouldnt wake Fred.

“Where were you?” The light flicked on. Before her stood a dischevelled Fred, arms crossed “I got home and you werent here.”

“I was in the park.” She mumbled, taking her coat off “Lost track of time, sorry.”

Fred looked at the woman before him, he noticed the dark circles that she tried to cover prefousley with makeup, noticed the ash on her jacket and faint aroma of smoke mixed with sadness.

“Its fine.” He reassured her and went to hug her, pretending to not notice her cold body & how she stiffened when he touched her “Just let me know next time alright?”

The woman hummed in agreement and walked into the living room, as she sat on the couch she put the tv on to play some sort of muggle program but not really paying attention to it. She just didnt fancy Fred interrogating her about her feelings. She hated talking about them, normally just botteling them up. Maybe that was the cause of her unhappiness.

A few moments went by & she thought Fred had went to bed, but then she felt the couch sink next to her. “Here” he placed a blanket around her & handed her a hot mug of tea “You’re freezing.” Mumbling a thanks she sipped on her drink, not really feeling like talking she waited for him to say something, anything.

And he did “Is it getting bad again?” Oh. Was it? Probably. Most definitely.

“I’m fine.” She lied “I’ll be fine.” Y/N wasnt convincing anyone.

Fred watched her, not knowing what to say or do. He wished he could help, just magically cheer up the love of his life. But thats not how life worked. “You’re good enough.” He blurted out “You deserve to feel happy.”

Y/N didnt look up at him, she knew Fred was trying to help. But was he? I dont know.

“Do I though, do I really?” She finally asked with a sigh, those seemed to be coming from her a lot lately “Because I know I do, I just dont feel it coming to me and its so draining to get on with life when you feel worthless.”

Fred took in what she just said, pausing before trying to come up with a reasonable response “I know.” He sighed “I want to help you Y/N, what can I do?” What could he do though? Realistically?

“I dont know. Nothing. This’ll pass soon enough and I’ll be okay.”

Fred knew that, Y/N was always ‘okay’ or ‘fine’ or ‘just tired’ “But I want you to be better than okay. I want you to be happy, to enjoy life and all its moments.”

Y/N scoffed “And you think I dont want that?” There was a tense silence

“Why dont we take the day off tomorrow and go out somewhere? We havent done that in a while.” Fred suggested. It was true, with both of them being bombarded by work they hardly saw eachother in the last few months.

“Sure.” Y/N smiled sickly and set her tea down “Yeah alright I’ll just sack my job off to have a fun little date with you eh? Why not risk getting fired just because I’m feeling a little moody huh?”

Fred was taken aback by her words and immediately went back on what he said “If you dont want to thats fine I-“

“Im sorry” she cut him off “I’m sorry, that was a dick move I didnt mean it, just everythings gotten so much-“ she put her feet up on the couch to hug them “Im sorry.” A few stray tears fell onto her knees

Fred moved closer to her “Hey, its okay, its okay dont worry. I understand.” Oh sweet understanding Fred, Fred who gave you unconditional love and support. Fred who you keep snapping at.

Moments pass as he embraces you, your body leaning against his heavily. Not sure whether its the exhaustion or something else “I dont deserve you.” You mumble into his chest. He frowns cups your face in his hands, you lean in to his warm touch.

“Dont say that” you let out a quiet sob “Y/N you deserve the absolute world, and I wish I could give it to you & more. If I could take away your pain, I would. In an instant I would. You dont deserve to feel like this, to think like this. But I’m here for you okay. I love you, so fucking much you don’t understand.” He gazed into her eyes, wishing she could feel how much he meant it “You’re the best thing that happened to me & I’m going to prove it to you, whatever it takes Y/N.” He kissed your nose before letting you hug him tighter, relieved that you no longer shrunk away from his touch “Words cant express how much I love you.”

After a few more tears fall, Y/N laughs into his chest “Good because you’re stuck with me.”

Fred grins to himself “I wouldnt have it any other way.”

#slytherin #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #draco malfoy #fred wesley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred and george #Spotify #depressing things #george weasley #sirius black imagines #fanfic #ron weasley #gryffinpuff #hermione granger #fred weasley x slytherin #slytherin x gryffindor

[burnedbyshoto]

Sickness and Afflictions

todoroki shouto x reader; bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing

a/n: one crushes your heart. the other one fills it. pick your poison. bitch... this made me sad and happy....

Part Two ; Alt Ending

todoroki shouto

You had been happy in your relationship with Shouto. Happiness and longevity seemed to be something coined for the two of you. But you knew that you were the first real relationship he had.

Recently, Shouto was becoming better acquainted with his family. Often spending his free days with his family instead of spending it with you. Which wasn’t an issue in your opinion, but it was three months since this started… and you only ever saw Shouto at night when he would come to bed past midnight. You were becoming upset by this, and whenever you voiced your emotions he was quick to ignore you.

The reality of your relationship was that you were not happy at this moment. You were also sure you did not wish to break up with him… but you wanted effort. Today was your birthday, and you hadn’t received a single acknowledgment from him about it. Today was your day off and he didn’t so much as kiss you goodbye today when he left for work as you woke up.

Today, you sat at the kitchen table at nine at night, waiting for him to come home. Your fingers play with a gift you bought for the two of you as a way to get him to go somewhere with you.

Some part of you wishes that he isn’t here because he has some elaborate plan. That these past few months, he’s been making you insecure for this very night. That Shouto’s waiting for you to cave first so he can expose his birthday celebration plans. But you know better to assume that, Shouto has never been spontaneous like that.

So today, instead of celebrating with friends, you waited for Shouto to come back home.

One hour passed.

Two hours more.

It’s no longer your birthday when the front door opens and closes. Your weary eyes staring at Shouto who walks in, slippers on his feet, exhaustion on his face.

Your eyes lock with his, and you break the gaze to continue down his body. There’s no card in sight.

“Why are you coming home so late?” You ask placing your chin onto your hand. Your eyes boring into your boyfriend’s ambivalent aura.

“Long day at work.” Was his response and it irked you.

“Midoriya-san posted a video of you and your classmates at a bar. Why are you lying?”

“We only went in celebration of—“

“Bakugou’s early birthday celebration, yeah. I know.” You snark back, your hand dropping on the table and a frown on both your faces.

“I’m not in the mood to have a lecture right now. Especially since you know everything there is to know.” Shouto voice drips with sarcasm as he tries walking away.

“Only because if I don’t you won’t ever talk to me!” You exasperate standing up. The sounds of the chair scraping against the floor echoes through the apartment.

Shouto stares at you, his heterochromia eyes feeling empty, lifeless.

“You don’t talk to me anymore.” You repeat, your bottom lip quivering. You try not letting your feelings overwhelm you. Desperate not to give him a reason to walk away. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Keeping your business to yourself?” Shouto steely response. His upper lip presses into his bottom one. “Why do you need to know everything?”

You blink many times, your mouth dropping with failed sentences.

“You’re my boyfriend,” You’re slow to respond. “I’m curious and concerned because you’re my boyfriend.”

“If you’re going to be telling me things I already know, I don’t see the point of me listening to you.”

You laugh, unsure of what was wrong with him. In your inability to speak, Shouto begins walking away. His arm hitting your shoulder causing you to stumble.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You seethe, your eyebrows scrunched as you push his back. He stills, not turning around. Your mind now in overdrive. “I’m trying to have a conversation with you! A conversation, Shouto! Something we haven’t done in fucking months! And you’re— you’re ruining it!!”

Shouto turns around, his face dark, his own eyebrows crunched as his lips are curling into a scowl. “Let’s make this clear, I’m not ruining anything here. I’m busy, y/n, I have a fucking job that requires utmost concentration and dedication. I can’t be waiting on your every demand and need. Don’t pretend that you didn’t know that coming in.”

“Of course I fucking knew that coming in! I’m the damn best fucking support employee Japan has! I’ve dealt with shit for you fucking heroes! I can see that you’re busy! But you’re not always busy! You just don’t spend any free time with me! And that’s what’s bugging me!”

That one complaint sends both of you over the edge. And insults pour out of both of your mouths. Eventually, you’re both just saying things to make the other upset.

You were too clingy. Demanding. Impatient. Unclean.

He was too bitchy. Completely unavailable. Dense. Opinionated.

He scrutinized what you had gotten him for Christmas. Claiming it was insensitive and embarrassing to open in front of his family.

You retorted that at the very least you had gotten him a present! You further added to the fact that he refused to meet your family.

He fought that you shouldn’t be too sensitive all the damn time because you’re a grown adult. Not some child.

It circles back to him not being attentive, the two of you in each other’s faces.

Red.

Angry.

Yelling.

“I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe you my time, my energy, or my presence. If you’re not happy with it, why the hell are you here?” Shouto growls at you, his face dark.

“Because you mean everything to me, you fucking dick?! Something I’m not ready to give up! Is it that hard to fucking see that I want to be here?!”

“I don’t owe it to you to spend my free time with you,“ Shouto repeats. “You’re my girlfriend, not a pet!”

“Oh, no, sorry!!! I forgot because if I was a pet, I would be getting much more love and affection than this!! You know what, Shouto? This is my place. This is my apartment, and you still have the fucking audacity to show up with this attitude? For someone who loathes Endeavor as much as you do, you sure don’t act any fucking different from him.” You hiss centimeters from his face.

Your mind doesn’t even register the terrible words that come out of your mouth. All you know if that pure rage manifests upon Shouto’s own.

“Don’t you dare fucking compare me to him. You know nothing about what it was like living up with him.” Shouto seethes, as his body stiffens, his eyes dark and angry.

“Let me guess, always distant and cruel? Emotionally manipulative? Using the people in his life for his own advantage? Seeing only his own fucking feelings and no one else’s? Hm, and the real question is who am I describing?! Pro-Hero Endeavor or Shouto?!”

Shouto’s right-hand grips your forearm, shocking you at the sudden movement from him. But Shouto’s too angry to notice that his quirk activates in his moment of anger and frustration. Ice cold burning pain shoots down your arm. It not until you’re sobbing out in pain does he see the blistering ice burns on your forearm and the tears in your eyes. And fear fills his being.

You rip your forearm from his grasp. Baffled and choking sobs leaving your lips as you examine the blistering skin. You tremble as you cry.

He burned you.

Shouto burned you and he wasn’t even apologizing. All he was doing was staring.

Your eyes rip away from your burned arm and stare at Shouto. A new sadness burning through you. “I only wanted you to show me that I mattered today… it was my birthday today. No yesterday Shouto… it was my fucking birthday! But… I get it now, how much I annoy you, and how much you’re unhappy with me but… still. It was my birthday and you didn’t speak to me or acknowledge it at all yesterday.” Your voice resonates with broken, cracked, and defeated tones.

Your throat tightens with overwhelming sadness as pain throbs through your arm. But it’s nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart. You cry as you walk to the table grabbing the white envelope in your hands as you give it to him.

“Take this, it’s yours…! I’m… going to the hospital to get this fixed up… please don’t be here when I get back. …we—we are…” Your voice cracks again as you know what you have to say, but don’t want to say. It’s too late to fix these mistakes. “We’re done. Please have Midoriya come pick up your things. I don’t want to see you, ever again.”

You don’t even conceal the flowing tears as you clutch your burnt arm to your chest. You want him to say something, anything! Anything to convince you that this has only been a few bad months, but that this was the extent of it.

But still, even in defeat, he won’t budge to your will. “Leave the key under the mat, goodbye Todoroki.” You whisper completely defeated as you turn on your heel and leave the apartment.

Shouto goes to open the envelope you gave him, unsure of what it is. But he freezes at the sight of the address. ‘for shouto so that you can have fun with boring old me!’

Shouto unravels a letter within the envelope and reads it over.

‘dear shouto, I don’t know how to start a letter! is it like this? oh well!!!! I figured you were going to get me something I would love for my birthday. so I went ahead and got us this! two tickets to go, drumroll please, see the All Might museum that just opened!!! yes! you read it correctly!!! so I know you and all your friends somehow lost the lottery system for getting it among the Pro-Heroes. don’t panic, we support techs are smarter. we bid on them like feral animals. this ended up costing me ¥125,000!!! totally worth it in my stance. I know somethings been off with us lately, and I’m not all that sure what it is, but I do love you. like a lot. I’m just at this point unsure if I did anything in specific to make you mad? god, I hope not… anyways!!! I know we’ll get over it, we always do!! I love you Todoroki Shouto, and I’m so excited to get to go to this museum with you!!!! love - y/n’

A splitting headache overcame Shouto. His heart is frozen as he stared at the two tickets for special entrance to this museum. It was made out for today, the day after your birthday. A birthday that slipt his mind until your choked up voice reminded him of it.

Shouto sank to the ground, tears falling from his eyes. Oh.

He fucked up big time.

bakugou katsuki

On god, you were going to murder your boyfriend.

How could someone so smart be this dumb?

This entire day he had been avoiding you like a ninja and simply ignoring your every action to get him to open up. It was pissing you off! He was acting like a damn cat instead of a human being.

“Katsuki, I swear, if you don’t eat this goddam soup and medicine, I WILL murder you!” You snap through the bathroom door.

The countless amounts of dry heaving coughs, sniffles, and sneezes heard from the door. You still continue to bang the on wall despite him ignoring you. “Soup is fucking disgusting, and medicine can suck my balls!” Bakugou’s voice weakly snaps back. The sickness heavy in his throat. You can hear him retching just a little bit.

How the mighty fall when they’re sick. But Bakugou fell hard. Plus he refused anything to make himself better! He was more typically relying on his own body to make him better. Which was dumb! But this was week three of him being this way, he needed something stronger than his own immune system.

“If you don’t open this door, I’ll find someone who can kick the door down. Like Deku!”

“Like hell, you would, shitty woman. Even like this, I can kick his ass across the country and—and—ACHOO!!” The crackling of his quirk goes off.

Yes, the worst part of Bakugou being sick was that he was no longer as in control of his quirk.

You grumble as you place the piping hot soup and medicine bottle onto the hallway counter. You walked to the kitchen grabbing your spare bathroom key. You opened it up to find Bakugo sweating profoundly. His body shivering, yet wrapped up in five blankets. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was plugged up with a tissue.

He looked disgusting.

“Don’t you dare,” He croaks slightly, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You grab the damn soup and medicine and put it on the bathroom counter. Bakugou was trying to escape. But he was weaker than he typically was only because he would get a migraine from standing up. “Oh no, you’re not going fucking anywhere, dumbass!” You snap at Bakugou as you put your full weight onto his hips, trying to keep him pinned down.

Bakugou won’t let you challenge him like this, and is very quick to fight back. So there the two of you were, wrestling in the bathroom. Your healthy body pressed against his clammy and sweaty one, but still, he’s able to keep up with you.

“Let go of me, shitty woman! I don’t fucking need that crap!”

“Your nose is just about dripping on me, idiot! You’re taking the damn medicine!”

Bakugou’s hand clutched your forearms, ready to throw you off him. But he freezes, and your eyes widen in the horror of having his hands on you. And as he sneezes before he can pull away, his sweaty hands exploding against your arms.

“OH MY GOD!” You scream, scorching pain exploding against your skin. You pulled away from Bakugou, your arms quivering as you watched red blisters form on your arms.

“Shit, babe, I’m sorry!” Bakugou sneezes again, his fingertips exploding.

“You burned me!” You shriek, unsure on how to feel about your boyfriend using his quirk on you.

“Well, I told you to leave me alone!” Bakugou throws back at you, and youthrust your burned arms his way.

“Yeah, still! Also, WHY do you have zero control over your quirk when you’re sick?! YOU’RE SO ANNOYING!” You cackle despite the pain as Bakugou blows his nose before crawling over to you grabbing your arms.

“Stay here, shitty woman,” Bakugou says after examining your burnt arms.

You watch as Bakugou stands up and goes to the medicine cabinet and pulls out some burn salve he owned. He often got burns from overexerting his quirk, and it seemed that you were going to be the one using it today.

“This is why you need to leave me alone when I’m sick,” Bakugou grumbles as his clammy fingers touch your arms. The soothing balm kicking in at the slightest touch.

“NO, what you need to do is to let me take care of you, dumbass!” You counter, shoving him with your foot. “You’re sick, and you could’ve been better five days ago had you just let me take care of you.”

His eyes look up at yours when he’s done applying the balm, and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “Fine.”

Within a day you get him to feel better, but now it’s your nose that’s running. Chills running down your spine as Bakugou shoved soup down your throat.

"You’re gonna eat this damn soup.” Bakugou snaps as you groan.

Why was this soup literally the worst?

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki scenario #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou scenarios #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha todoroki #mha bakugou #todoroki angst #bakugou fluff

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Salt Water in my Veins

Stan had always loved the ocean.

Maybe it stemmed from the countless days he and his brother had spent on the waterfront, building sandcastles and splashing in the shallows and chasing each other with seaweed up and down the beach. Ma had used to joke that they had salt water running through their veins. Which of course Ford rebuked on the principle that it was anatomically impossible for a living human to have salt water for blood.

Ha – rebuked. See, Stan did know some big words. With a brother like Ford you were bound to pick ‘em up. Stan also knew ‘photosynthesis’ and ‘phospholipid bilayer’, though he wasn’t quite sure what the latter meant.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the cake? Of course the only big words he knew came from Ford. Apparently Stan was good at leeching offa his brother. Well, you had to be good at something, right?

The beach was cold and dark. Sand that was once sun-soaked now leeched the warmth from his bare feet as he padded down to the shoreline. Black water barely glinted in the thin beams of moonlight peeking out from behind stringy clouds. The chill breeze sent a shiver down his back.

But even after everything, the rhythmic rush of the waves was soothing. The beach had always been a safe haven – his only one now, apparently, since Pa had been all too eager to give him the boot. Of course the bag was pre-packed. The stingy bastard hadn’t even put in five dollars, too.

Stan gritted his teeth. Yeah, he could crow and bullshit all he wanted – “I don’t need you! I don’t need anyone!” – But what exactly did the world have to offer for a dirt-poor kid with no qualifications, no papers and no job? Hell, he didn’t even have a high school diploma! What was he gonna do, start up a business and become a billionaire? He couldn’t even pass a fucking maths class.

Plus – Stan always managed to screw up whatever he had going for him. Apparently his brother was no exception. He could still see the coldness in Ford’s eyes as he closed the curtains – how had that only been a few hours ago? – and it stung, it hurt like a bitch, and even though he deserved it he couldn’t help but wish like an idiot that his brother would have fought for him.

‘Us against the world!’ Yeah. Sure. Like Ford would need a leech hanging off him for the rest of his life, a freeloader doing nothing but drag him down. This was better for both of them. Stan’s family would be free of him, and Stan… well, he wouldn’t have to listen to that nagging voice in the back of his head that always told him how much of a failure he was.

Stan walked forward into the water.

Icy-cold waves lapped at his skin. The cold burned. He pressed forward and in no time his pant legs were soaked. Every step had the water crawling higher over his waist, then his stomach, then his chest. The ocean sloshed against him playfully – it felt like an elbow to the ribs, an arm slung across his shoulder, a cheerful punch to the arm. It cradled him. He couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. His mouth tasted like salt.

As inky-black water closed over his head and he let the ocean take him, Stan could have sworn that he heard distant shouting.

 Fuck, drowning hurt.

Flickers of thought flashed through his mind like electrical sparks as they broke the surface. He tried to gasp in air and instead got a mouthful of water. Stan hacked and choked and would have sunk back under if not for the hands grabbing him. He couldn’t see. Partially from the dark and partially from the salt and partially from the blinding pain in his lungs, lancing through his body with every rattling cough.

Then there was sand beneath him. Stan collapsed forward onto it, body heaving with coughs. He was so tired. But his body revolted against the near-drowning for him, hurling up what seemed like buckets of seawater that burned his throat on the way out. There were hands on his back and a voice in his ear but Stan couldn’t understand what it was saying.

Finally his body had rid itself of salt water and he slumped numbly. Cold, damp grains of sand pressed against the side of his face and stuck to his lips. The beach was solid and gritty beneath him.

“-ley! Stanley! Don’t just lie there, say something goddammit!”

Ford? His brother’s voice was shrill and cracking with panic.

“LEY!”

“Mmph.” Not very eloquent, but he couldn’t make his mouth work how he wanted it to. Ford let out something that sounded like a sob.

“Thank god.”

Stan was being pulled into his brother’s lap now – cradled, with fingers running through his hair. He didn’t have the energy to pretend to put up a fight. Ford’s clothes were just as drenched as Stan’s but through them he was warm, and he trembled as he rocked them back and forth in the sand.

“Don’t you ever do that to me ever again. Do you hear me? Never again. Oh my god. Oh my god Ley. I almost lost you.”

Maybe Stan was dreaming, because the last time he’d seen his brother Ford hated his guts. Yeah, this was probably one of those hallucinations you supposedly got before you died.

He lifted a wobbly hand to pat Ford’s shoulder and accidentally got his face instead. Not his fault. The world was still stubbornly swirling.

“S’okay.” He managed to slur out. Ford gave a watery, hysterical laugh. “I’ll be outta yer hair, n’ pa w’ll be happy fer once. T’ll be like yer an only child-”

“I don’t want to be an only child! I need my brother!” Ford all but shouted in his ear. Stan whimpered at the volume. Immediately Ford quieted, stroking his hair, running his hands fervently down Stan’s arms as if he needed an assurance that he was there, alive and breathing. “No, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“M’sorry I broke your project.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. I know you didn’t mean to break it, of course you didn’t. I was stupid.”

“M’sorry.” Stan whispered again. And then it hit him over the head like a brick – oh shit. Now he’d made an even worse mess. He’d worried Ford and now the nerd was gonna blame himself because that was how Ford thought. And if a hospital found out what he’d done they would contact his parents and force them to deal with him. Maybe he’d even get tossed in the loony bin. Oh god. He’d really fucked up this time.

“I… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Ford.” His voice trembled and he gasped for breath. There was more salt water on his face now but this was warm, and it streaked down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry-”

“Stan, Stan it’s okay.”

No it wasn’t and it would never be okay, and now he was blubbering like a baby, sobs rattling his tired frame as he buried his face in Ford’s jacket. He whimpered pathetically. “I’m so sorry-”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Ford pressed a fierce kiss to his hair. “I forgive you. We’re – we’re gonna be okay, Stanley. I promise.”

And, well, it was a done deal. Ford never broke a promise.

“We gotta get you warm.” Ford said frantically. It was then that Stan noticed the violent tremors shuddering through his own body. Huh. “We need to get inside. Do you think you can walk? Home is only a few minutes away and-”

The worlds struck a chord with Stan and he reached up desperately to grab Ford’s shoulder. “No! I can’t go back. Pa’ll kill me.”

Ford let out a bark of what wasn’t quite laughter. “Right, right. At least let me take you to your car. And get you some dry clothes. God, Ley, you’re freezing…”

Ford continued to talk, as was his way when he was stressed and frightened. And Stan was content to be held and rocked on a dark, wet beach, with the sound of the waves close by and his brother’s arms around him.

#gravity falls #fic #my fic #im sorry #suicide attempt #suicidal thoughts #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #yeah this is pretty dark #i've been in a mood and needed to write something angsty #what better than some stangst??? #stangst

[cockasinthebird]

Ahhh I love your work. 🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️😍😍 Ok au where Steve and Billy break up so Steve gets really drunk at a party and Billy has to go pick him up and basically take care of him the rest of the night, so Steve doesn’t like choke on his own throw up or do something dumb

Dear anon,

THANK YOU, I love you too!!! Which is why it pains me to say that.... I’m so sorry. This got SO SAD and I promise I didn’t intend for it to! But it just came out this way, and I hope you can forgive me!

-

Billy's not entirely sure what the fuck Steve is doing here.

Had he even been invited? Carol sure as fuck hadn't asked him to come, maybe Tommy did just to tease Steve; dangle his lost popularity in front of the dethroned King Steve, in hopes that he would be dumb enough to show up, to then just be ridiculed for having even had the thought that he was actually welcome around here anymore.

Billy nearly dropped his jaw when he saw Steve arriving earlier, but when their eyes met, his ex-whatever had quickly looked away and run off to probably grab the first drink in reach.

Maybe he's regretting breaking up with Billy? Not that there really was anything to break up, they were just having fun, just fucking around, literally. Which only makes the entire situation even more infuriating, the more Billy thinks about it.

There wasn't supposed to be any feelings or emotions or all that girly crap, just two guys blowing off steam together!

So when Steve asked him, “Why do you keep treating me like this?” and demanded an explanation as to why Billy continued to bully and agitate him so, all he could say was,

“What the fuck are you talking about, Harrington?” and really put pressure on his name there, as if to drive home the point that they're not beyond that.

And Steve had cried, not a big sloppy mess, but tears rolled, and he shouted that they were done for, then drove off before Billy could even gather enough thoughts to be coherent.

That was three days ago, and he really hadn't heard a single sound from Harrington since then, seen no hide nor hair of him till tonight.

Now he sees him everywhere he goes; no matter which room he moves to, Steve's there, looking back, eyes hooded and dark with all the alcohol he's swimming in, some even staining his nice polo shirt. Tommy had at one point earlier gone up to Steve, grinning wide and talking shit, but Harrington seem unbothered by it all.

Steve sits in the middle of a long couch, surrounded by people all with their backs turned to him, and as he swings back another of numerous beers, Billy finds himself staring like one would at a particularly morose painting, wondering what it all means, even though it's clear on the surface level and doesn't run that deep.

He himself stands leaning over a cute, short brunette, her hair falling down over her large breasts, a manicured finger playing with the buttons of Billy's open shirt. He's got an arm resting against the wall above her head, and even as she smiles all flirtatious and talks to him about something something parents not home something, he can't look away from the way Steve stares back.

There's too many thoughts in his head that even the alcohol can't wash away; things he wants to say to Steve, things he wants to do to Steve.

And he doesn't move till Steve does.

Limbs inept as he rises up from the couch, accidentally bumping into a girl who glares daggers at him, to where Steve mumbles out a sloppy sorry, sorry, before tripping a bit over the others legs as he tries to squeeze out from between the sofa and coffee table. But even as he goes through all the obstacles of a full house, Steve never looks away from Billy as he walks in his direction.

When he gets all too close, Billy looks away- can't stand being this close to Steve anymore, a torturous thing that he came here tonight to forget; to hopefully drown himself in pussy, or find a nice big dick, but all of that is impossible to look for when fucking Harrington is present in his life this way.

After counting down from five in his mind, Billy turns to look in the direction Steve went, just to catch the front door closing, and he immediately pushes off of the wall, abandoning the busty brunette here with now a shocked expression across her face, as he gives chase for another dark haired beauty.

Outside Steve fumbles with his keys, standing by the first car he found.

The music goes low as the front door to Carol's house slams closed, and Billy stands underneath the light of the veranda, hands deep in his pockets as he braces himself for the chilly evening air sweeping in from the woods.

“That's not your car,” he calls out to Steve, who jumps a bit at the sudden voice.

Steve looks at the white Ford that he's spent nearly a minute trying to get into, muttering about why the fuck doesn't the key fit. Then he looks at where Billy has stepped down the stairs and is making his way over.

He huffs out drunkenly and moves to the next car, a dark green Honda and tries again.

“Still not your car.” Billy stands now only a few feet away, watching with a slight frown at how Steve continues to shuffle over the sidewalk to the next car in a long line.

And counting from here, there's a good seven cars more to go or so before they reach the BMW.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and finds it maybe a tad bit amusing how frustrated Steve grows.

“What's it look like?” Steve slurs back and tries a key that isn't even for any car in the world, but rather his front door. “I'm trynna get home.”

“Not at this pace you won't,” Billy mocks and shrugs a bit. “Try the next car.”

Steve doesn't argue, probably can't, and he moves on to a dark blue camaro.

But before he gets to have a chance of scratching the nice, expensive paint job, Billy interrupts with, “Here, let me try.” And fishes up his own keys from his back pocket.

Almost like magic, Billy's keys works wonders, and the passenger door opens up to allow for Steve to stumble inside.

Billy takes long strides to the other side and lands with much more stability in the drivers seat.

“This... this isn't my car,” Steve says with the purest form of confusion, as if he's just woken up from a coma thirty years later to discover all sorts of new things. He touches the leather seat, opens and closes the glove compartment, looks between the front seats into the back, yeah it's definitely not his car.

“No, it's my car,” Billy speaks all matter of fact, firmly so as to ensure that Steve understands what's happening.

He looks over at the other; almond eyes squinting through the darkness and haze of inebriation, and Billy's heart beats uncomfortably, if he were to tell the truth for once. He wants to reach out, brush away the bangs that falls down Steve's forehead, kiss those bumbling lips, caress the moles on his cheek, his chest, his legs.

“Why am I in your car?” Steve mumbles and looks out the window, away from how Billy is caught wanting.

“I'm taking you home, put on your seat-belt.”

The car roars as he sparks it alive.

“Why?” Steve asks but doesn't hesitate to do as told, although with shaky hands that could be from the alcohol or nerves.

“Because you're a drunk mess and I'm a goddamn fucking saint,” Billy grumbles as he pulls out from his spot and onto the street.

“Oh so now you decide to be nice to me?” Steve laughs without joy and thunks his heavy head against the cool window.

“I have my moments.” Billy grins, but refuses to let silence fall upon them, because that's when there's time to think, which is the last thing he wants right now. “So, why did you come tonight?”

The tense energy here palpable as Steve thinks too long on his answer, which spills out carelessly, “Because I wanted to see you,” and there's almost a sob.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington-” Billy groans and rolls his eyes, but Steve cuts him off,

“Don't call me that,” with a more apparent sob now.

“I can call you whatever I want.” The hand on the wheel tightens. “Princess. Dickhead. Amigo. Pretty boy.” And he steals a quick glance at where Steve stares out the window; street lights flashing like stars in his wet eyes.

“...Steve,” a whisper not meant to be heard, and perhaps it doesn't.

The silence between them is painful. Billy bites at his nail to hopefully keep himself from blurting out all the wrong things. Steve snivels occasionally, his breathing labored.

Driving from Carol's place to Steve's feels like it takes years through uncertain darkness with no saving grace, no light at the end of the tunnel, a vast eternity in where Billy keeps fighting his own inquisitive thoughts.

Because why is he doing this? Why is he helping out Steve, who was the one to end whatever it is they had going on? Why is he looking at Steve's lonely hand?  Wanting to reach out and hold it. His own hand aching for the touch, like a childish need to play with the flame of a lit candle. So he grips the steering wheel harder till the strained skin hurts.

Till they pull up into a driveway that isn't empty. A black, sleek, shiny Cadillac sits all prideful in front of the grand house.

And it runs freezing cold down Billy's back, eyes pinned to the slumbering windows, hands still choking the leather.

“Are... are your parents home?!” he hisses out.

Steve moves as if he was just abruptly awoken, and blinks hard to still his focus. He leans towards the dashboard to peer out the front window and sees his father's car.

“Oh, yeah, they showed up some hours ago. Took me out to some fancy restaurant for dinner, but...” Steve slumps back into his seat and moves to get comfortable. “They still don't know how to talk to me.”

Billy finds himself in the same situation now. He watches how twisted Steve's expression is; a distressed pull of the lips and an anguished brow knit together with tales of distant parents and a lonely childhood. And maybe Billy is starting to understand a few things about Steve.

Who pulls his knees up to his chest to hug himself, shrink a bit, fleeing whatever is undoubtedly coursing through his mind.

A sight that makes Billy sigh, loudly in exasperation, and then backs up the car.

“W-w-what are you doing?” Steve stumbles through his tears as he realizes they're now driving away.

“I...” Billy starts off with, eyes hard on the road and both hands on the wheel. “I don't know.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just-” Billy stops himself from raising his voice too loudly, and takes a deep inhale as to calm down, refusing to meet the way Steve is staring. “Just... don't worry, ok?”

Although he's drenched in worry himself, uncertainty dripping down the back of his neck as his own nerves heats him up unbearably so.

Neither of them talks at all as they drive through the woods, underneath the cloudy skies that threatens with rain; teases with a few drops here and there upon the windshield.

And somehow they end up by an open field - more specifically the location for the 4th of July fair that stood loud and colorful a few months back. Billy hadn't been thinking of any place in particular, rather he was spending all his mental power to not think at all, lest he'd start having doubts about... everything.

“Did you... did you bring me out here to, what, beat me up?” Steve sounds legit scared, and it hurts to hear.

Like a thousand paper cuts across Billy's heart, and he cannot keep back the anger that bubbles up at something so ludicrous. “No I'm not gonna fucking beat you up! Jesus!” he growls out through gritted teeth, which doesn't exactly help his case.

For Steve holds an unblinking stare aimed at Billy, expectant of only the worst things, which probably isn't completely unfair, because he hasn't exactly been... nice lately. Or ever. And even though Billy often refuses to apologize and feel bad for his behavior, it's a challenge to stay an asshole at times like these.

Because even if his father is all too present in his own life, he understands the lack of parental love that probably makes Steve the way he is. And he feels pity. Which is gross and unfamiliar, but it sits so strong around his bleeding heart. Which just makes him angry, and lash out, then fight the regret and... start all over again.

“Get in the back,” he demands, but as soft as he can, of course.

“What?” Steve asks with brows raised to the sky, eyes wide in... shock? Disbelief? Something that might be a sign of distrust and anxiety.

“Please?” Billy tries but it feels horrifyingly wrong on his tongue – like he was mispronouncing some foreign name.

“Why?” Steve remains in his seat, curled up like a depressed child. Which... he might just be.

And Billy groans out his irritation and rolls his eyes, but he tries to say it in a nice way, “Because, I can't take you home like this, and we can't go to my place because... yeah, and we can't exactly go to a motel anywhere this way either.” He pauses and hopes that Steve catches on, but alas he remains in confusion. “We're going to sleep in my car, so get in the back.”

Steve still doesn't move. Disbelief clear in his expression, and maybe it takes him a bit longer to process everything due to the countless drinks he's been pouring in tonight, but when Billy gives a somewhat kind nod towards the backseat of the camaro, Steve finally moves between the seats.

Billy follows right behind, and sits as far away from Steve as possible, who sits like a ball of despair against one window, and god fucking damnit it feels like watching a puppy get kicked, how pathetically Steve whimpers with his face buried in his knees.

“Fucking... come over here,” he grumbles out and spreads his legs.

The poor wounded puppy looks up, brown eyes wet and hair a complete mess, and he hesitates.

“Come on.” Billy pats the spot between his thighs. “We'll keep warm if we sit closer.”

It proves enough of a friendly invitation, as Steve moves closer, slowly, as if he's approaching a sleeping dog wearing a spiked collar and muzzle, waiting for it to try and bite.

But all he's met with is a soft hand that goes through even softer hair, as Billy gently pats him on the head and allows for Steve to settle in between open legs and against a warm chest.

They don't speak, for what is there to say that one won't remember and another will regret? The only coherent and recognizable emotion that Billy can find in the tornado of feelings is anger. A fury that isn't technically Steve's fault, and directing it at him would only be unfair, because he isn't the one struggling with his own feelings towards another guy. No he's ardently clear about it all, which spills from his lips as he falls into slumber against the beating of Billy's heart.

“Billy?” he whispers and closes his hand around the unbuttoned shirt.

“Yeah?” And Billy knows what he's about to say. He fucking knows it; won't be the first time someone has been that foolish.

“I think I'm... in love with you...”

He can feel Steve's heartbeat go rapid where their bodies are pressed rather awkwardly together. And Billy sighs through the nose. The muscles in his jaw twitch, a lump grows in his throat, and he looks out at the stars in search for a world where everything is better. Where everything could be.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Steve Harrington #Billy Hargrove #drunk #alcohol #angst #fluff if you squint??? #I guess??? #Anonymous #answered #request #IM SORRY

[milstrim]

You’re My Kid Too

Day 2: "Pick Who Dies"| Collars| Kidnapped

Mr. Stark was going to be so pissed. She was sure of it. Getting kidnapped was one thing, but allowing for Morgan to be taken too was a whole other level. She'd been babysitting for the day, taking Morgan out for a day at the Central Park Zoo as she tried to adjust to the newly repopulated world and Mr. Stark's new family. But something had happened when they'd been looking at the penguins, and she couldn't exactly remember what it was other than the hissing of gas and the whoosh! of doors clanging closed.

But then she'd woken up, cold except for a small and warm body clinging onto her desperately as it cried. She'd realized quickly that it was Morgan, and that they definitely weren't in the zoon anymore.

"Morgan?" she'd whispered in the dark, and the girl had frozen before gripping onto harder.

"Penny, Penny!" she'd cried, and Penny had sat up, wincing at the soreness in her side, and scooping Morgan into her lap, "I thought--I thought you were gone again and I didn't wanna be alone!"

She shushed the girl placatingly, "It's okay, it's okay. We're gonna be alright, okay? You just gotta be the strong girl you always are, right?" Morgan had nodded, "Good, okay, do you know how long we've been here?" She'd shrugged, "Okay, that's alright. Have you seen anyone?"

"No."

"Okay, if someone comes in you get behind me, alright? Just sit behind me and stay quiet, can you do that?"

"Yeah," Morgan had affirmed. The girl had struck true to her word when a woman had entered the room a few hours later, hiding behind her legs as the girl stood up to face their kidnapper.

The woman smiled at the two of them, and honestly, this wasn't who Penny had been expecting. She was small, barely taller than Penny herself, middle-aged, and slightly overweight. She dressed like a high school English teacher, with a short pixie cut that had turned gray, the only remnants of her original hair color being the few strands of black.

She'd gone on about revenge and the Avengers causing the loss of her own child, and really, Penny felt for her, but kidnapping a five year-old wasn't the way to go. Then the woman had left, leaving behind a small brown bag that ended up being two water bottles and ham and cheese sandwiches that she nibbled on before handing one to Morgan.

That had been two days ago, and while protecting Morgan was on the top of her to-do list, she hadn't been quite prepared for how hard it would be to entertain her, especially when she would randomly go into fits crying for her parents and Penny could do nothing but hold her. She must've played patty cake a thousand times, struggling to remember the rhyme and having to force herself to be gentle with the preschooler in front of her.

Three meals were delivered a day, and there was a toilet in the corner of the room that she thought must be an old prison room, so overall it could be worse conditions. They weren't being tortured, they were being fed, and were at least together, though they probably both smelled since they hadn't had a shower since they'd arrived.

Penny kept telling herself to wait, to lay low like Mr. Stark had always told her to do if she got kidnapped, to let him come and rescue them, and at first she had been prepared to do that, to hunker down and wait while she was with Morgan, but two days turned to six, and then nine, each night growing colder and all she could do was hug Morgan tighter.

But then she couldn't hug Morgan.

On the ninth day the woman returned, this time with two other people with solemn expressions, and Penny had immediately pressed Morgan behind her at the tingle running up and down her spine.

"Step away," the woman ordered, the bars of the cage opening with a clang!

"No," Penny said, putting steel into her voice.

"You don't have to be more involved than you already are dear," the woman said gently, as though a doting mother to her, and Penny scowled, "I don't know who you are. A nanny or a babysitter, some poor intern who got dragged into this, but I don't want to hurt you."

"And why not? You seem fine with hurting a five year-old. She hasn't even gone to kindergarten yet! If you think she has any part of the Avengers then you're either insane or stupid. I'm leaning towards the latter."

"Step aside," she said again, a little more sternness in her voice.

"No."

"Step aside."

"She's a kid!"

"She's the daughter of a murderer, and he will feel the same pain I did."

Penny's eyes shifted to the ground, hesitant but sure, she sighed, "Fine."

"What?" The woman sounded beyond surprised.

"Fine! He can feel that pain, but not through Morgan."

"How do you--"

"You think he trusts just anybody with his daughter? Some random nanny after how many people have tried to kill him? And why do you think a teenager would be nannying her? You don't think he'd hire some really professional lady?" Penny ranted, and she could feel Morgan's arms wrap around her leg, squeezing her as she cried. She wished she could comfort her, but if she wanted Morgan to be safe, she had to put all her attention into this.

"What do you mean?" the woman asked, readjusting her glasses and giving her a once over.

"I mean Tony Stark likes me. We've known each other for years and he takes care of me and him and my aunt basically share custody of me. If you--" she swallowed, "If you hurt me, then he'll feel the same pain, but you won't have to hurt Morgan."

"And how do we know this is true?" the man behind the still nameless woman asked. For the first time since they'd arrived, she turned to Morgan.

"Morgan, what are we?" she asked gently, and Morgan sniffed.

"Sisters."

Penny turned back around, point-fucking-proven (even if it was technically a lie), to look at the shocked and calculating faces. After a tense minute, the woman finally reached a conclusion, smiling a little as she looked at her.

"Okay, works for me. We'll send it to Stark, and if what you're saying is true--and you don't fight back--then the kid will be safe. Deal?"

"Deal," Penny agreed without hesitation. They beckoned for her to leave the cell, and she began to move forward, but Morgan continued to clutch onto her harder.

"No! NO! PENNY!! DON'T GO!!" the girl cried, sobbing hysterically, but Penny had to go, she had to keep Morgan safe. Glancing between the impatient faces and Morgan's snot-covered and crying one, she kneeled down, prying the little hands away from her leg as gently as she possibly could.

"It's okay. It's okay, Morggie. Remember what I said about being brave?" A nod, "Good. Just, try and be calm, and it'll be okay. I'll make it okay."

"Promise?"

Penny hesitated, but Morgan's eyes were too wide and too smart and too much exactly like Mr. Stark's, "I promise. Pinky promise."

She held out her pinky, and Morgan accepted, tears still leaking out of her eyes as Penny stood up and stepped out of the small cell, allowing for her hands to be cuffed behind her back. She kept eye contact with Morgan the entire time, trying for a smile and not looking away until she was moving and down the hallway.

She was right about it being an old prison, the walls crumbling stone and covered in frost. She knew it was winter, but wherever they were it was cold. And every step away from Morgan became colder and colder until she was finally led into a room with a singular metal chair and a camera pointed at it.

The next few hours were some of the worst of her life.

  Penny was dumped back into her and Morgan's cell the next day, barely aware of the world around her. After their little homemade video in which Penny had done her very best assuring Mr. Stark that Morgan was okay and that she was keeping her safe, she'd been left chained to the chair in the room while they sent it or whatever. She guessed they were just being extra careful about not being found, but it had sucked.

Nothing in this place was particularly comfortable, but that chair and that freezing empty room with the knowledge of Morgan alone barely a hallway over was the worst part of all of it. Yet she didn't want Morgan to see her the way she was right now.

Her arms and hands were coated in red that was dried and sticky, her lips blue and the hair atop her head--so thick and desperately in need of a cut--was still damp and clung to her skin. There were cuts and burns littering her body, and she knew she must look a mess, a true horror to the girl once again crying and pulling at her hair to try and get her to move.

"Penny? Penny, please. Wake up! If-If I have to be brave, you do too!" Morgan practically begged, and she began to stir, forcing herself onto her arms and knees, collapsing onto the barred wall instead. Morgan stared at her, scared and timid.

"It's okay, Morggie. I'm okay, see, I'm right here," Penny tried to assure, "You're doing so good. So good. Just--just be brave for a little longer, okay?"

"How much longer?"

"Not long."

And it wouldn't be. They couldn't stay here. Penny had held them off with the promise of torturing her instead, but these people were crazy, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they moved onto Morgan. The couldn't wait any longer.

  The teen didn't even wait a day. She waited until the next morning when they were afforded their stupid sandwiches and water that she would throw out the stupid window if it weren't for the hunger that clawed at her chest.

The woman, different than the short and stout ringleader, approached with their bags of food. Penny was still sitting on the bars, waiting, limp and unsuspecting, until they were close enough. She struck out, grabbing their foot and easily unbalancing them. Quick as a shot, she stood up and punched them through the bars, letting her drop to the floor unconscious.

Morgan yelped in surprise, staring at the woman crumpled on the ground. But then she clapped, "Are we leaving?"

"Yep. We're going home, Mongoose," she affirmed.

"Back to Mommy and Daddy?"

"Back to Mommy and Daddy."

Morgan smiled, and then they were walking down the hallways. Morgan carried the little brown bags of food as they stalked through the hallway, Penny on edge as she escorted them to the door. They managed to not come across anyone, which was good, because Penny doubted she could fight at this point. She was limping and tired to the bone, her right arm swollen and her eye still black. If it came down to it, she'd take someone down, but they needed to get out as quick as possible.

But when they finally found the door, she hesitated. It was freezing, beyond cold. Now don't get her wrong, she knew what cold was like, New York was plenty freezing during the winter, but now she wore nothing but a shirt and jeans, as well as a hoodie wrapped around her waist. And it wasn't just cold, Penny didn't do well in the cold, it was a storm. Penny did doubley worse in a storm.

It wasn't snow that rained down, but freezing sleet and pouring rain that thundered against the slick pavement outside. She gulped. This was bad, but they couldn't stay here. Maybe...maybe she could find a way to contact Tony, but then she'd be caught, and then Morgan would be tortured. And if this was an old prison, then, well, there had to be some kind of society around.

She weighed her chances, and then she weighed Morgan's chances. Outside was better for Morgan but worse for her, so outside it was.

"Are we going out there? It looks scary," Morgan mumbled. Penny knelt down at eye level with her sister.

"I know it does, but we have to go out, okay? We'll find Daddy and Mommy out there."

"Uncle Rhodey too?"

"Especially Uncle Rhodey," Penny affirmed, taking her hoodie and putting it on Morgan, "I'm gonna carry you, can you keep the food safe for me?"

"Yeah!" Morgan said, brightening at the thought of helping.

"Great," she said, picking the girl up with a pained grunt, "Let's go."

  The cold, to put it simply, stinked.

It tore at her cuts, burning and freezing. It soaked her to the bone, wrapped her in nothing but frost and ice, making her feel as though she were trapped at the bottom of a lake during winter. And Penny's inability to keep herself warm certainly didn't help. She couldn't shiver and she couldn't warm up, the most she could do was hold Morgan close to her and hope to God that she was as dry and warm as she could possibly be.

Morgan was a trooper though. Barely complaining, only ever asking how long until they were home twice, which was considerable constraint for a five year-old. Apparently the answer to when they'd get home--or at least at a town--was four hours. Four hours of trudging over wet, slushy ground. Four hours of wandering until she found railroad tracks to follow. Four hours until a house finally appeared through the gray storm.

"Morgan, look. A house!" she choked out in relief at the sight of it. She heard Morgan let out a pitiful cry in response, and Penny could do nothing but continue to stumble forward. There were a few more houses surrounding it, but she stuck with the nearest one, ducking between the cars and stumbling onto the porch.

Her vision was hazy as she rang the doorbell, hugging Morgan tighter to her. Due to the late hour it took a few minutes for someone to answer, the door finally being flung open by an old woman, who gaped at them in shock.

"Please..." Penny begged, "2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2. 6-5-5. 9-0-0-8. 2-1-2..."

When Penny passed out, making sure to land on her back and not Morgan, she was still repeating those numbers, mumbling as the woman screamed in surprise. She really hoped she remembered the number.

  Tony stared intently at the girl in front of him. She was still pale, even after being in the Medbay for two days, though her cuts and burns had thankfully healed. Hypothermia was the kicker, but he knew she'd push through. She had too.

Morgan had managed to full recover, which made sense. She hadn't been blue when he'd found her, well, when he'd gotten a call in the middle of the night from some lady in Canada saying that two girls had shown up on her doorstep repeating his number. His heart had leapt in joy, in relief. He'd gotten the video of Penny being tortured barely a few hours earlier, and it had been the worst experience of his life.

He'd thrown up, unable to take Penny's cries telling him that Morgan was safe all the while she hadn't been.

His kids being taken had been a truly crippling experience, especially with no contact. He'd begun to break by day five of no contact, and when he'd gotten that video of Penny, he'd almost been relieved, and it made him sick. Whoever had taken Penny, well, he'd been playing right into their hands.

But Penny had escaped, had taken Morgan and run at the first sign of real danger, and he couldn't be more grateful to have one kid in his lap and the other laying in front of him. Though he'd prefer Penny be awake.

Like his thoughts had summoned her, she blinked awake within the next few minutes. Her heart rate picked up as she looked around the room, then calmed down as she caught sight of him. She smiled sleepily.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," she greeted, "Is she okay?"

"She's great. What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Morgan's safe. She's safe, Mr. Stark."

"I know, Penny. I know," he assured, moving to grip her hand, "And now you're safe too, okay? Even though you walked through -20 degree weather knowing you can't keep warm."

"I thought the cold would get me," she admitted, "But they were going to go for Morgan next. They were going to hurt her."

His hand shook, "They hurt you. And you're my kid too, Penny." She looked at him with wide eyes, so he carried on, "You're my kid, just like Morgan. So please know you gave me a heart attack."

"Oh, I already knew that, Mr. Stark. Not the--not the kid part. But the uh, heart part."

He smiled, shaking his head. Sniffing in disdain, he pressed a kiss to her head, cupping Morgan closer to himself so as to keep her from waking up, "Whatever, kid. Just know that I love you and go back to sleep."

She smiled, and blinking tiredly, she drifted once more.

#iron man #spiderman #female peter parker #tony stark #peter parker #spiderdaughter #irondad #irondad fanfiction