#I’m so angry and so overwhelmed I just keep almost bursting into tears

[taibhsearachd]

I don’t even know anymore man. I have been without my (probably already too low dose) thyroid meds for weeks, getting sicker and sicker, because my doctor doesn’t want to prescribe me more without a blood test, and fair enough.

I’m real behind on getting the tests they’ve ordered, bc the lab that does the blood draws is only open while my wife works and I am sure as hell not going to drive myself when I am a fainting risk on a day when I have not had several vials of blood yoinked out of me. That’s my bad.

But then my wife finally gets off work so I can give them my blood, and when the results came back… they did not test my fucking thyroid hormones. I do not get meds, STILL. I’m basically couch bound lately, I am in constant pain, my hair is falling out, I’m so cold all the time, and I can’t do anything that requires actual thinking because my brain doesn’t work, and my doctor is not giving me meds that help all that because they don’t have results for a blood test they did not order.

I want to bite someone but I simply do not have the energy.

[4am-enha]

enha when: they find you crying.

genre: fluff, enha scenarios, fem reader, she/her pronouns used.

pairing: enha member! x reader!

warnings: “kys” phrase used once!!, mentions of blood and injury, bullying, anxiety, breakdown, swearing, suggested romantic relationships (if you’re not comfortable w that).

description/tags: each enha member finding you upset, hurt, or crying, and doing their best to make it better like they always do. short scenarios/imagines, ot7 enhypen (but specific member for each scene), comforting, gentleness, tooth rotting fluff, pet names, hand holding, hugging, etc.

Heeseung - overwhelmed from school work.

The noise that echoed throughout the house from the excessive force you had used slamming your laptop and yelling was concerning- concerning enough to cause Heeseung to rush into the room and look at you with his confused, darting “Bambi” eyes.

“What was that?” He asked worriedly, scanning over the area quickly for anything that might’ve broken, or even worse, harmed you.

You deflated in your chair with an intense frown that would most likely cause you future wrinkles. You put your head down into your arms and sighed followed by an angry grunt. Honestly, you felt like bursting into tears, and that’s exactly what happened next. The tears began to escape, and you were the most obvious crier ever.

Heeseung immediately bent down to your level and rubbed your back slowly for a minute before getting the courage to ask something, “did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“I hate this fucking professor,” the frustration was very evident in your voice, “they just keep piling up assignments like it’s some sick joke and I’m just done with it!”

Heeseung flinched at your tone but let you rant, listening very carefully to what you were upset about, and trying to figure out how to help you out just a bit.

You felt like pulling the hair from your scalp, “I can’t keep doing this Hee, it feels like just when I finish one, I get a new one. I don’t even get the chance to feel accomplished for just a minute because I just have more and more to do. It never ends.”

Heeseung nodded, “how much time do you have left for this one?” he pointed at the paper all crumpled up (from your mini breakdown) beside your laptop.

“This one is new so I have a few days.”

“So you have time to take a little break then?” He put out his hands for you to grab.

“Just a little I suppose,” you took his offer of hands and he pulled you up softly into a hug.

“Come on let’s go on a walk, the fresh air will do you good my little maniac,” he snorted, and you slapped him harshly on the arm, not finding it funny- yet not being able to stop yourself from letting a little smile slip.

You got your jackets and shoes on and started to walk down the street together; Heeseung sulked a little bit when you had not held his hand again right away.

It wasn’t too dark outside yet, but it was getting there. As winter was coming to an end it started to stay lighter outside for longer, and a lot of people were spotted walking their dogs in the evenings more often now. It wasn’t warm enough yet, but it wasn’t too cold either. It was refreshing.

Heeseung kept looking over at you, staring, and smiling. You pretended not to notice at first because you didn’t want to embarrass him, but it was painfully obvious.

“What is it?” You finally whined out, smiling at his almost sickly bashfulness.

“I love you smart girl” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear, while pulling out a singular flower from behind his back for you.

Jay - injury.

The pain was agonising, and it felt as if your knees and palms were violently throbbing.

You were innocently roller skating around the block like you usually did on the weekends when you had abruptly tripped on a small dent in the pavement, causing you to be flung unpreparedly forward and your hands and knees had gotten the worst of it all as you tried to stop yourself from facepalming the ground completely.

You cried involuntarily from the deep pain, but you cried harder when you had dared look at your injuries which looked like something out of a zombie movie- all scraped up and leaking a worrying amount of blood. God knows if some of the pavement and rocks had gotten into it as well. You could only imagine the infection you were about to face.

Jay came flashing around the corner like his life depended on it. He had come with you today (and thankfully so), but he didn’t really like skating so he decided to just walk behind you. He had let you get ahead out of his sight for just a minute, but of course that is when you had to fall, when he wasn’t there beside you.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Jay sat down on the pavement beside you, carefully bringing you closer toward him in order to hold you.

“It hurts really bad Jay,” you sobbed, wincing each time you tried to move.

“Stop moving. Is it okay if I lift you?”

You shook your head, “you don’t need to,” you tried to get up yourself to prove a point, but you wailed more as your knees trembled in pain.

“Please let me help you,” Jay pleaded with sympathetic eyes.

Jay wiped his thumbs under your eyes softly, wiping away your tears and analyzing your face. His mouth slightly lopsided, not finding your fall amusing for a mere second because of the pain you were feeling from it- even if your clumsiness was adorable to him, and he loved being this close to you

“Fine,” you said under your breath, feeling guilty that you were so helpless to yourself right now, brushing Jay away from your burning face before it became obvious you were flustered by his actions.

As soon as he got the okay, Jay propped you upwards gently and lifted you slowly into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the streets back to your house, where he planned to nurse and spoil you like a princess.

Jay was extremely concerned at the nastiness of your wounds. He always promised himself he would never let you get hurt as long as he could help it. He mentally slapped himself for not being there to stop you from falling- even if it wasn’t really something he could’ve helped.

“This is embarrassing, everyone is looking at us right now,” you mumbled.

“You should get used to it, this won’t be the only time I carry you like this,” Jay winked, smirk on his face.

Jake - bad week.

As you arrived home, you dropped your bags and things onto the floor a little less organized and with less care than usual.

“Jake?” you called out, wondering if he was home yet.

There was no answer. You must have gotten home before him today, which usually happened when he got busy.

You made your way to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, turning it on, and prepping things to make a hot tea for yourself. You really needed it today.

This whole week had gone to shit. It started off with some major mistakes, bad sleep, and had ended with a Friday full of your boss scolding you.

You were pretty sensitive, so it wasn’t easy to take on, and hiding your upset and disappointment was getting harder.

You zoned out into your thoughts as you stared blankly at the wall, patiently waiting for the kettle to finish boiling.

A pair of familiar arms suddenly snaked around your waist from the back, making you jump.

“Sorry,” Jake giggled, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I thought you weren’t home?” you questioned his lack of response to your call out of his name not too long ago.

The loud ass noise the old kettle produced must have covered up the sound of Jake approaching behind you.

“I heard you, I just couldn’t answer because I was taking a phone call from work,” he apologized.

You nodded with understanding, continuing to make your tea silently.

“You know, you’ve been awfully quiet recently,” Jake rested his chin over your shoulder sensing something was off, hugging you from behind.

(an: in the words of sunghoon- “how romantic”)

You let out a long sigh and fought back tears from the thought of it all, but you lost that battle.

Jake immediately sprung up a bit at the sound, pulling you into a hug, “bad week?”

All you could do was nod.

“It’s the weekend now my love, let’s do something fun,” Jake whispered and ran his palm over the back of your head in a way of comforting you.

“How about we get dressed up and go out to eat?”

Jake knew you loved doing that, because you were always doing it with your besties. You put so much effort and time into your appearance and took pride in it- and Jake admired it. You always looked so beautiful in every way to him.

“That sounds good,” you perked up a little.

“Let’s do it then. Come help me pick out an outfit,” Jake smiled and grabbed your hand eagerly.

“Wait- I need to finish my tea first,” you pulled back.

“Okay then, after your precious tea,” he chuckled, “can you maybe make me one as well?” he clasped his hands together in anticipation, hoping for a yes.

“Of course,” you laughed, finding it cute.

Sunghoon - someone else upsetting you. (TW!!)

“You’re so unfunny,” your ‘friend’ rolled their eyes at you.

You were admittedly a little hurt by that, but you tried not to take it so personally. They were always like that with you, and it was probably just some harmless joke.

You had met up with a friend to hang out for a bit while you waited for Sunghoon to come pick you up a little later.

You never really hung out with this friend often, probably because you always felt uncomfortable around them when it was just you two.

When you were out in your whole friend group, they never acted like this.

Though technically, it wasn’t just you two today. They had invited their crush, who they obviously liked, but wouldn’t admit it. Your friend insisted that they were just friends too.

Bored, you picked up the last brownie from the plate and began to eat it when you felt a pair of eyes stuck on you annoyed.

“I was about to eat that one” the crush of your friend hissed.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know-“

“Whatever. Literally kill yourself,” he blurted at you suddenly.

“What?” you glanced over to your friend, half expecting them to stick up for you and say something, but instead they just giggled along and encouraged it.

You put down the brownie, feeling guilty and now very hurt and a little intimidated. Those kind of ‘jokes’ weren’t something you took lightly for personal reasons.

“In what place do you think you stand to say that to her?” an angry voice came from behind you.

It was Sunghoon, he was early, and had heard everything.

“No go ahead and say it again,” he snapped at the pair sat in front of you sarcastically.

“I said-“ the guy began again, not phased by him yet.

Sunghoon swiftly grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt, causing panic.

“What?” sunghoon spat, “you said what?”

The guy just shook his head in fear, begging to be let go.

Almost not wanting to, Sunghoon finally let go, “go home to your disappointed mothers, you sad fucking lowlifes,” he turned to you and grabbed your hand, walking away, “come on, we got better things to do.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly as you walked beside him back to the car, not sure how to process it all.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to you, “don’t you ever apologise for shitty people like that.”

“Thank you,” a few tears fell from your eyes.

“You don’t need them. You have me,” he hushed you, “let’s get ice cream on the way, I’ve been dying to get that coffee one again, especially with you,” he smiled at you sweetly.

Sunoo - too anxious to order.

Golden, crispy fries. That’s what you had a sudden craving for, and you could have it- if you would just order it.

But right now, it felt like your feet were glued to the ground and that the counter was miles away. You felt yourself freeze up at the thought of going to order it, repeating the script over and over that you had made up in your head that you were going to use when you ordered.

Ordering sounded like such a simple task, but your anxiety made it feel like a punishment. This happened way too often, and it was such a problem, you often missed out on the things you wanted.

Sunoo looked over to you glancing at the stall, your hands tugging at the hem your own shirt, obviously holding back from something.

“You want some fries don’t you?” Sunoo spoke up, startling you.

“Is it that obvious?” you mumbled.

“It’s okay if you want some, I’ll pay if you don’t have the money,” he smiled, suddenly feeling through his pockets for cash.

“No money isn’t the problem,” you sighed, “it’s fine let’s just keep going.”

Sunoo looked you up and down, you didn’t look like you really wanted to continue on, in fact it looked as if you were mentally beating yourself up about it (which you were), “are you sure?”

“Do you think they have a self service thing? Like at the mcdonald’s?” you kept your eyes on the stall.

Sunoo laughed, “no silly it’s not some food chain, I don’t think a local food stall is that advanced. Come on I can tell you want some,” he dragged you with him up to the stall.

When it was your turn to order, you suddenly froze up.

Then, it made sense. It hit Sunoo exactly why you were so hesitant to go and buy it. You were too anxious, and Sunoo not only felt like a fool for not noticing sooner, but also guilty for forcing you into the situation by accident.

“Do you want the ones with cheese?” he asked you, reaching for your hand secretly, and squeezing it comfortingly to remind you he’s there.

“Huh?”

“Cheese or no cheese?”

“No cheese-“ you answered him with a very confused tone.

“She’ll have the original fries please” Sunoo started ordering for you. It made you smile when you realised that he was aware and understood you.

Shortly after, he collected your fries and you felt yourself almost drooling you were so hungry for them.

“Uh-“ Sunoo cut you off and swung them away from your reach, “taxes”

“What?”

“Since I bought them, I get to eat the first one- it’s a tax” he giggled.

“Okay okay fine.”

Sunoo selected a fry and held it up to your mouth, indicating for you to eat it.

“What about the tax?”

“I’m giving it to you” he smiled, “eat!”

You ate it happily with a wide smile plastered on your face that lingered for the rest of the day.

Jungwon - mental breakdown. ( !! TW !! )

Jungwon was peacefully finishing the episode of the show you had both started watching together. It was just him watching it now, because you had gone upstairs moments ago saying that you weren’t feeling too well. He had asked if you needed anything, but you insisted you just needed to go to sleep- so he let you.

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel like he kept hearing a noise that wasn’t coming from the TV though. It made him pause it a few times and listen out for it.

At first, he convinced himself he was just mishearing it, so he would continue the show- until he finally caught it with the show paused while he was going to make himself a snack in the kitchen.

It was coming from upstairs, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. He was sure you’d be asleep by now, so he didn’t think it was you making any noise. Maybe it was though, so he decided to check. Just to make sure you hadn’t fell or anything like that.

“y/n?” he called out as he slowly made his way up the stairs.

The noise got louder as he approached the top, and that’s when he heard a bone chilling scream come right from your room.

In a slight panic, he quickly walked over to your room and knocked lightly, “y/n? are you hurt?”

There was no clear answer, so he hesitantly walked in. He didn’t want to intrude but he also didn’t want to just leave encase something serious had really happened. Always better to be safe than sorry right?

Luckily, you weren’t hurt- at least not physically from what Jungwon could tell. There you were sitting on the floor, fingers tangled in your hair, sobbing. It wasn’t a normal cry though, Jungwon could tell you were feeling something deeper right now.

“What’s going on?” he made his way over to you, sitting beside you, gently prompting you to stop tugging on your hair.

You sobbed harder and said some things that weren’t very audibly clear. You were in a messy state of breakdown. That was now obvious to Jungwon, so he was careful with his actions. He didn’t want to upset you any further and was trying to respect any boundaries you might have right now.

He let you cry out what you needed to, and simply just listened and stuck beside you until you became calmer, rubbing his thumb on your hand as he eventually held it (when he thought it was appropriate to do so).

There was no specific reason behind your breakdown, it had just come on suddenly- and it wasn’t something you could help. Jungwon knew that, so asking you what was wrong wasn’t the best thing to ask right now. He knew you probably weren’t willing to talk about it yet.

Instead, Jungwon explored around your room, looking and grabbing things. You watched him curiously, a lot more tranquil as you focused on him, just wondering what he was up to now.

After a few minutes, Jungwon came back over to you, laying a blanket over your shoulders and making sure it covered you up. Then, he arranged your plushies around you and handed you a few of your favorites.

“We’re here,” he smiled, looking at you and moving your hair away from your wet face, “it’s going to be okay now.”

‘We’ must have meant the group of teddies accompanying you both.

He wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tight, “I love you sweet.”

“I know” you teased, making him smile again with a small scoff.

Niki - misunderstanding.

As you stormed past him, Niki instantly knew you were mad.

“Hey, what happened?” he chased after you.

“YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED,” you yelled back at him, deliberately trying not to look at him.

“I really don’t, I promise!” Niki was more confused than ever right now. He couldn’t think of anything that he could have done to upset you like this.

“The fucking audacity you have,” you pointed at him aggressively.

“y/n. I want to listen to you, I do,” Niki began, making you stop yelling for a second, “but first I need you to calm down-“

“CALM DOWN?” you hated being told that.

“Okay maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say, that’s my fault, but please hear me out,” he pleaded, a little scared and worried he had just blown his only chance.

You stopped, folded your arms, and stared at him with a pissed expression, “go on then. Explain.”

“When I said calm down, I meant that I just wanted you to talk to me, in a way I can fully understand you without starting arguments,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

You took a breath in, “Okay.”

Niki nodded, “let’s go sit down and talk.”

You agreed and followed him to the chairs.

“I understand you’re angry with me, and I know it must be frustrating that I’m asking you why, when I should be aware of doing something like that, but I am being completely honest when I tell you I am misunderstanding you. So please, explain to me, so I can correct it,” Niki stated calmly.

He was now surprising you with his communication skills. You felt a bit stupid now, like you’d been very childish. It made you feel a little guilty, so you worked with him now.

“I saw a notification on your phone, from a girl, telling you she loves you with a bunch of hearts. I don’t recognize the name,” you admitted, still bitter.

“Okay, let me see,” Niki pulled out his phone and clicked it on, displaying the notification. He held back a laugh.

You noticed, and it blew your short temper again, “THIS IS ENTERTAINING FOR YOU?”

“No love, it’s just, that’s my grandma..” he snorted a little.

“Let me see,” you snatched it from him- feeling like he didn’t see it properly.

“I don’t believe you,” you stated unconvinced.

“That’s okay, I can show you,” Niki opened up his phone and pulled up the messages. He scooted a little closer to you so you could see it clearly.

He was right. Now you felt even more stupid.

“Here,” he handed you the phone, “you can have it as long as you need to. I don’t mind what you do- just please don’t harass my grandma,” he joked.

You handed it back to him, “no it’s fine. I trust you.”

“Listen y/n I know you might not trust me fully yet because of the way you’ve been mistreated by others in the past, but hopefully I can prove myself to you soon,” he smiled innocently, “in the meantime, please talk to me first?” he held out his pinkie.

You linked yours with his, making a promise that you’d communicate like this from now on.

“Thank you for giving your trust to me though, I won’t take it for granted,” he pecked your cheek swiftly.

“It’s not that funny,” you mumbled at his giggles.

“No it’s not, it’s just you’re so cute when you’re angry,” he laughed a little more, causing you two to wrestle each other.

feedback and notes are always appreciated ! let me know what you thought of this. :) if you read them all- which one is your favorite?

note: ello ello! if there’s any mistakes i apologize. i decided to write something in this kind of format again after it came close to first on the poll i did not too long ago. thank you all for your constant support and a special thank u to the followers that i now recognise because i constantly see their username pop up in my notifications <3 i love you!! i hope to be more active but i am starting a new course soon so that might get in the way. muah muah have a great night/day! xoxo

[cimmeriana]

❝  they don’t deserve you—  i don’t deserve you.  but at least i’m aware of it.  ❞ 😳

@backscar

Melinoe couldn't tell you what had possessed her to just burst into tears in front of him. She had tried so hard to keep herself contained, to continue on this night with their usual playful back-and-forth and to just push aside the complicated feelings that brewed within her.

There was something so very overwhelming about learning that the reason she had such dark urges whispering monstrosities in her head was because she was born a child of tyranny. There had never been love in her childhood, at least not real love. She never skipped rocks or got scooped up for kisses when she skimmed her knee.

It was why, at the end of it all when she laid down every night, she felt so dreadfully empty. It was why she found herself staring into an abyss to see a twisted smile of all sharp teeth staring back at her. It was why she clung to her companions so tightly, so very afraid of loosing them - even to lose the memory of them.

Deep down, she had known that being loved was an experience barred from her. That she was a tool to be used. A sword to be wielding. An insignificant cunt for seed to plant and more wretched to be born from.

And she knew in the pits of her, even without the memories flashing for her, that she had done and would have done all they asked because of how desperately she wanted to be loved.

A flood of tears washed over her ashen face, salty and stinging, unfamiliar to her usual expressionisms.

❝ Don't say that... please don't say that... ❞ she whimpered, her bottom lip shaking with the same severity as her hands as she reached up to scrub the ever-falling tears from aggravated cheeks.

—— ❝ You're my muse, Astarion. My inspiration and my hope. I see myself in you and every day you surprise me in your beautiful revelations and simple joys. Even when you brood and I can see in your eyes that you've disappeared to some far away realm that exists in your mind. I see you. ❞

Her tone was almost pleading and it felt as if her heart ripped open to empty at their feet as she stood so meekly before him, trembling like a lost little girl. ❝ Every day I think to myself: 'if this wonderful person could have endured for so long, longer than twice my own lifetimes, to get to a point that he can grow more and more every day right before my eyes... then perhaps I can endure.' Perhaps there's hope. Even when it feels so impossible. Even when I feel so trapped. ❞

—— ❝ My darling beastie, can't you see? Can't you see that its I who believes myself so undeserving of you? Of all of you that place your trust in my palm and set your tents beside mine? ❞

Finally, her crying had a moment of break. No, instead she was frustrated. Frustrated and angry that he would belittle himself in such a casual way as if she would allow it. How dare he. He was so precious to her and he dared to think so lowly of himself to not believe he deserve the care and kindness and love she tried so hard to bestow upon him?

❝ But you most of all, my most beloved Astarion, who has kept me company through my dreary and most haunted of nights. My most darling confidante who deserves to have the adoration and praises of every scholar and bard in all of the realms... I can give you so little of the whole you deserve because my heart was born empty from a father who reserved love only for himself and a mother who didn't know how to love something besides the god to whom she gave her entire soul. ❞ She had a resolve about her now. A resolve to cease her pity-party and to endure, to love and to care even harder. To procure those foreign concepts from thin damned air if she had to because she refused to become what her father wanted or a lamb like her mother.

She was her own person who could decide her own fate. Just as Astarion was his own man who could choose his own destiny. She believed in him, and how hypocritical would she be to prop him up with support that she didn't grace herself with too?

—— ❝ I will not allow for us to speak of ourselves in cruel such ways. Nevermore. You are deserving. And I am deserving. And we will learn to accept that. No matter how difficult and if we have to do it by taking turns holding the other as we're kicking and screaming. ❞

Melinoe sniffled, taking a deep breath before she rose her chin. She didn't feel entirely confident then, but she had to make herself be if she wanted to be better. If she wanted to truly live by her hope and belief that the both of them could be better.

❝ You're my most cherished companion in this silly little thing we mortals call life. Please don't sell yourself short or insult my choice in affections. ❞

[letters-to-yj]

hi bestie, it’s me again: time for me to write more 🤌🏽🤌🏽 so imagine!! Imagine 😏😏 so—y’all are besties right?? Right!!! so there’s like some unspoken tension between you two, like “I like you but I’m scared to admit it” type behavior. So one day—y’all have this like argument (how are y’all argue like this 👁👁) but it was over something stupid so anyway you being dumb just shouts “I’m in love with you” and now the yeonjun was too stunned to speak. Now bestie what you do after this is up to you!! does he feel the same way or is he like “nah bestie—you’re not my ride or die” and now it’s you who is too stunned to speak cause y’all had that TENSION but now he turns around and says that?? BLASPHEMOUS ‼️‼️‼️

[bestie I took so many liberties with this but I hope you like it anyway<33]

yess the unspoken tension!! the lingering stares, when your hands accidentally brush when you both go to grab something, him putting an arm around your waist and tugging you closer and you swear your heart nearly bursts!! and maybe y’all banter a lot, teasing each other about nonsense, but as soon as he moves just a little closer, leans in with that stupid shit eating grin, you lose any point you were trying to make. 

OKAY BUT---things get complicated, maybe the argument is because he kind of missed out on your plans to hang out, maybe not intentionally, just got busy/overwhelmed. and you feel really hurt because it sorta feels like lately life keeps getting in the way and he’s being so distant and like, that’s your bestie!! and also the less he’s present the more you realize how much you need him!! and you start to see that you want him so much closer, but at this point you would like to just have him around at all. 

and so you get snippy with him, obviously he’s asks what’s wrong and you ofc hit him with the “nothing” (rip).

“seriously, what’s wrong?” he’s looking at you so softly, that same gentle concern he always regards you with. it almost makes you feel worse.

“what do you care? you’re never around anymore anyway.” you sound less angry and more hurt than you’d like. 

you avoid looking at him but he kind of just gets closer and tries to make you look at him. “are you mad because I forgot about our plans?”

“I’m mad because it feels like you’re pulling away from me.” despite every effort to avoid his gaze, you still end up looking at him. he looks so guilty.

“I’m not trying to,” he says softly. and you don’t realize it yet but he’d been trying to put distance between you two because he was realizing his Feelings and didn’t want to accidentally ruin things. he was unsure if he was reading into the Tension wrong and if he made a move, there were so many ways it could go wrong. what if he made you uncomfortable? what if you didn’t feel it too? so surely distance would be better than risking losing you completely...right?

“but you still are,” you can feel the tears coming and you wipe away at them quickly. “I need you around, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m here now though---you’re still my best friend.” it does make your heart swell, a sort of ease filling your chest. but the fact of the matter is, you can’t ignore your feelings anymore.

“you’re so clueless,” you mumble and he just looks confused (and kind of offended.) 

“hey, what does that mean?” he looks even more annoyed when you laugh.

“I love you, you idiot.” 

at first, his expression is unreadable and you fear everything is about to come tumbling down BUT THEN---you see the relief wash over his face. he cups your face in his hands and then he pulls you close and kisses the heck out of you.

you feel relieved too.

[milkywaygg]

Lost Child Chapter 8

The next morning, Linnie woke up overwhelmed with emotion and anxiety. Replaying the events of last night over and over in his mind, Linnie struggled to understand why decency and kindness was so hard for his family. To him, even after her death, Nora’s influence seemed to still have an everlasting grip on his family, and Linnie swore at himself for staying with her as long as he did. Tossing and turning, Linnie tried to sleep at least for 30 more minutes before he had to get up, shutting his eyes and attempting to drown his mind out, only for his same worries to form once again.

It wasn’t even his family that he was worried about anyways. Linnie had yet to take Julie to see the police and figure out where she came from and what his next steps are. Despite all the commotion that happened under his apartment, Linnie was at least glad she was starting to at least look better. Linnie managed to get some of the knots out of her hair and was wearing cleaner, albeit a little too big clothes on her back. He also made sure that she had plenty of food and snacks throughout the day, and often checked in if he had to leave her with Darren for a little while.

Even though she was getting better physically, Linnie couldn’t say the same about her emotional well-being. She was still as skittish as the day they first met her, and it wasn’t rare that she would burst into tears after everyone started raising their voices. Linnie felt his heart sank as he thought about it and wish he knew how to make things better for her. She was so sweet and shy; Linnie felt like he saw a part of himself everything he saw Julie, so it broke his heart knowing that she wasn’t in a peace of mind, not that he could blame her. She deserved a loving family, and Linnie was damned if he wasn’t gonna give that to her.

After losing his battle, Linnie finally got out of bed and went to the kitchen, prepping his coffee for the day, trying to make it as sweet as possible. To his surprise, Julie was up at the table, drinking a bottle of orange juice. Not wanting to startle her, Linnie smiled gently at her.

“Good morning, darling. Sleep well? You want something to eat?”, Linnie asked, before receiving a shake, frowning, “Aw sweetie, what’s the matter? Are you not feeling well? Or is it about last night?”

“Why is your family so mean, Mr Linnie? Why is everyone so angry at each other?”, Julie asked, “That man was mean. I don’t want him to hurt Poof. I like Poof. He was nice to me.”

Almost instantly, Linnie knew that she was talking about Cosmo’s drunken rampage last night. He sighed; he really needed to have a serious talk with both of his sons about communication and respect. He took a seat next to Julie at he made a mental note to himself to call Cosmo, or at least the kids to make sure they didn’t get hit or anything.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You know, I haven’t exactly come from the best family either. I know how you feel.”, Linnie started, “I know everything seems awful right now, but I promise you that there are people that care so much about you. Sometimes, it just seems like the whole world is against you. But I know there are people out there that love you and would do anything to keep you safe.”

“Like Poof?”

“Mhm, and Cassia, and Darren, and even myself. Ever since we found you, I’ve been worried sick trying to figure out where you come from, and what to do next, because I want you to be somewhere safe. I don’t want you to keep getting yelled at or hit anymore. You don’t deserve that.”

“Y-Yes I do.”

“No you don’t darling. Please don’t think that. Sometimes, there’s just going to be bad people that hurt you for no reason, but that doesn’t mean you should have to put up with it.”, Linnie said softly, stroking her back to comfort her, “I promise everything is going to be ok and I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure of it.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”, Linnie smiled, before leaving his seat, “Now then, I was able to request the day off work so I will be taking you down to the police station instead of Darren, since I don’t think he’s the best at keeping you calm. I-I know you’re not hungry but I’m making eggs, if you would at least eat a little bit for me? Please?”

“O-Ok”, Julie said quietly as he turned around to gather what he needed, “Mr Linnie?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

  An hour or so had passed until Linnie started to hear Darren shuffle around in his room, moaning and groaning that his body wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Linnie set a plate of eggs aside for Darren as he washed his and Julie’s dishes, with Julie sent off to pick an outfit before having a bath. Meanwhile, Darren stumbled out in the kitchen, dozily sitting down to scarf down his eggs, with barely any thoughts to his actions last night.

“Good morning Darren.”, Linnie started off, not coldy but clear that he was still annoyed from last night, “Sleep alright?”

“Yeah, guess so.”, Darren said, as he stuffed hid mouth with egg.

“That’s good. Listen, I don’t really have time to right now, but later on, I think you and I need to talk.”

“Why? Is it about last night?”, Darren questioned, “In my defense, she deserved it.”

“I don’t completely disagree, but I’m not really concerned about Wanda. I just don’t think it was appropriate of you to drag the children down and teach them how to disrespect other people’s property, even if it is family.”

“Yeah well, that’s what Cosmo’s bitch ass gets for all that shit he said about Julie at dinner. I mean, I don’t really like her either, but damn. It was like he had something against her or something.”, Darren said bluntly, shoving down another spoonful of eggs. Linnie sighed.

“Darren, I know you meant well, and it’s clear to me that you care about her, whether or not you want to admit it. I just think you need to think about your response to things sometimes. That’s all.”, Linnie said, “I worry about all 3 of you daily. I really don’t want you back in prison again, or even worse.”

“Yeah yeah.”, Darren rolled his eyes, “At some point Dad, you’ve got to realize that I’m a grown ass man and fully capable to watching out for myself. I know what I’m doing. It just doesn’t seem like you trust me.”

“Honestly Darren, you’ve made it pretty hard to.”, Linnie glared, crossing his arms, “And at some point, you need to realize that you are still living under my room, so until you find your own place to live, you need to abide by my rules. We’ve already been through this conversation once with the beer, and it’s not fair to me that I have to keep compromising my rules just so you can do reckless things and get yourself and the children hurt.”

“Hey, I’m doing the best I can finding a job, Dad! Keep in mind, I still have yet to hear from that banking job.”

“I know hun. I didn’t say you weren’t. I just ask that you try to be a little more responsible. I mean, what if one day you want to start a family of your own?”

“Pfft yeah right. Like that’s ever gonna happen.”, Darren smirked, “I don’t even have a girl right now, and I’m not exactly scrolling through dating sites right now. All I want is to get my own place and live my own life.”

“Well I’m just saying, all this is something to think about. At the very least, if you don’t plan on having kids, then that’s fine. Just please…take better care of youirself, ok? And please respect the rules I have in my house. Is that too much to ask?”

“Ugh…I guess not. Fine.”, Darren grunted, eating his last bite of eggs, “I dunno why you’re only telling me this though. I bet you have yet to tell Cosmo the same thing.”

“Oh believe me, dear. I do plan on talking to him about his attitude lately. Obviously, I don’t like how he treated Julie, and I’m worried about Cassia and Poof. I really hope he didn’t hit them.”

“I doubt it. He says a lot of shit but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him go through with it. Usually by the time he does get the motivation to, he ends up just breaking down and crying. Really, the man’s a piece of work ever since Wanda started pulling her shit.”

“Still. I don’t think that’s any excuse.”, Linnie said quietly, finishing the last of the dishes, “Here, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got to get ready to take Julie to the police station. I’m going to go see if I can go call Cosmo real fast and talk to him. If you don’t mind watching Julie for a little bit while I get ready so that I can give her a bath, I’ve got some business to take care of”

“Heh. Good luck.”

Rolling his eyes, Linnie left his ‘oh so supportive’ son to finish his breakfast and to clean up after himself as he went to the room, taking a shower and getting dressed for the day before he grabbed his phone, taking a deep breath, and pressing Cosmo’s contact number. He held the phone up to his ear as it rang, struggling to get a response. Linnie had to repeat the process multiple times, with some attempts ending earlier than usual, before he sighed in defeat, scrolling up the contact list a little bit. Checking the time, he knew that she wouldn’t be at school for a little bit longer, before pressing her number, the same ringing repeating itself. However, this time, there was a voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart. How are you? Are you ok?”

“Grandpa Cosma? What are you calling for? Thought you’d be at work.”

“Well I just wanted to check in on things. I’ve tried calling your father earlier but he wasn’t answering. Is he still asleep by any chance?”

“Not sure. Poof and I left the house just before we could run into him.”

“He didn’t hurt you two, did he?”

“Well, he didn’t hit us, but he was pretty mad when we got home after spending the night with you. He yelled at us for a good hour and a half before sending us to bed and grounding us, even though it was Uncle Darren’s idea.”

“Oh dear. I’m sorry kids. I didn’t mean for the both of you to get in trouble, but you know how your Uncle Darren is. He doesn’t always think things through.”

“Yeah. Hey, Poof wants to know if Julie’s ok?”

“She’s fine at the moment. I’m taking her to the police station in a little while to get to the bottom of things, but I just hope she finds a nice, loving family soon. I’m not sure if it would be wise for her to stay here, and we don’t even know where her real parents are.”, Linnie complained sadly, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to force adult problems on you guys, but I’m just so worried.”

“Yeah..us too.”

“Yes dear. Well listen, I won’t keep you too long. I know you have to catch the bus darling, but I just wanted to make sure you were ok. If Cosmo or Wanda ever hits you or Poof, give me a call please. I will not hesitate to come over there. Understand?”

“Yes Grandpa Cosma.”

“Good. I’ll let you go then darling. Have a good day at school.”

“Thanks Grandpa. Love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

Upon hanging up the phone, Linnie felt slightly relieved that the kids were not hurt at least, although he made a mental note to call Cosmo again and try to see if he can talk some sense into that man. Finally, he got up and placed the phone on his nightstand.

“Julie dear? It’s time for your bath.”

[jackie5656]

Liar.

With; Frank Castle (Punisher)

A/n: alright watching daredevil has led me to this. And yes he is a mass murderer but he has a pretty good cause so…yeah. Thank you all so much for the recent love. I appreciate it more than you know, enjoy!

Warnings: A lot of angst bc it just makes sense, long haired Frank (aka read at own risk) HAVENT PROOF READ YET BUT POSTING ANYWAY

The incessant sound of the pouring rain relaxes your nerves. Your apartment is practically pitch black, only illuminated by the television and the moonlight outside. The clock below the screen you’re currently entranced by reads 12:30, and you curse your anxiety that’s currently keeping you awake. You’ve seen Harry Potter plenty of times, but it happens to be a comfort movie of yours that makes the rainy evening feel less lonely. Max, the pitbull you and your boyfriend have taken in and come to love, is curled up at your feet. You adjust yourself, giving him a quick pat before checking your phone for what’s probably the hundredth time in the past couple days.

You and Frank had gotten in an argument. It was trivial, he’d come home after a long day of who knows what and you had just started dinner after a long day of work. You’d left the door unlocked, something he’d reprimanded on multiple occasions. He was paranoid, and sure he had a right to be. But you were tired, and he’d tracked snow into the house because he’d forgotten to take off those damned boots that you’d reprimanded him for a billion times. So you’d both been exhausted, overworked and overwhelmed with life and had ultimately taken it out on each other. A multitude of small grievances had built up and it ended up in a fiery combat of quick-witted, childish digs at one another. He’d left your shared apartment just as soon as he’d arrived, snatching his keys off the counter and muttering a “I’m going to cool off.” Just in time for the pot of boiling water on the stove to boil over, in which you’d burned yourself in the effort to turn it off. The water had stung even more than his angered gaze, the pain of your singeing skin and heavy heart had caused you to burst into tears. Max, who’d been hiding out in the bedroom, slowly padded over to nudge your shaking legs with his snout.

That’d been a couple days ago, and Frank had yet to return from his drive. A year and a half ago, his sudden absence wouldn’t have surprised you. But that was before you had gotten together, and since then you had made sure to establish proper communication. If he ever got caught up with ‘work,’ he was supposed to send you a text or give a quick call to keep you in the loop. And he’d done a great job the past year. Though much like your absent-minded forgetting to lock the door, he’d sometimes forget to update you.

But this was different, you always agreed to never leave each other without a grievance being solved. Never go to bed angry at one another, never leave the house without a kiss goodbye, in case it was the last time. He promised. And sure, it was a little morbid. But you’ve both lost a lot in life, so good-termed goodbyes were important.

You cringed at the taste of copper stinging your tongue. The swollen piece of lip which you’d been chewing on these past two days had finally broken skin. You dab at cut with the sleeve of his crew neck enveloping your body. You were pissed, but the collar still smelt like him, and you missed him. A lot. Max’s head perks up at the sound of keys jiggling in the (locked, you asshole) door. He scrambles from the couch, crossing the short distance to the front hallway just in time for the door to swing open. The sound of boots dropping to the floor almost makes your lips quirk into a smile, one that dissipated the second you read his body language. He’s soaked from head to toe, heavy breathing no doubt from racing up the four flights of stairs it takes to get to your home.

“What’s wrong?” Your eyes follow his towering frame race around the apartment.

“Where’s the duffel bag I bought you?” Alright, at the very least a ‘hey, sorry for ditching and scaring the shit out of you,’ would have sufficed.

“Bedroom closet, why?” You repeat your questioning, following his tail when he heads straight to your shared room. Tossing folded sweaters onto the floor to get to the few bags that sit at the top shelf of the closet.

“Alright. Where the hell have you been asshole? And what the hell are you doing?” You step in front of him the minute he turns to place the bags on the bed. He stops just in time not to tackle you, gabbing at your shoulders so you don’t fall. His eyes are focused, but you know him enough to see the panic behind them. It makes your stomach drop.

“Sweetheart, I know we’re not on good terms right now-”

“Understatement of the year.” He only sighs, ceasing his hurried movements as his eyes lock with yours. Hands moving your hips to grab your attention.

“You have every right to be pissed at me. And you can chew me out later. But baby, we need to get out of the city for a couple days. I have a cabin upstate that we can go to-”

“Wh-what are you talking about? What happened?” He sighs again, reminding himself of the doghouse he’s in that will only get worse if he’s angered at your interrupting.

“I can tell you everything in the car, but please help me pack so we can get going.” You scoff, arms shooting up to rub at your temples with an exhausted huff. His heart wrenches, and he hates himself for what he’s put you through.

“I’m sorry baby, for a lot of things. I know this isn’t fair.” His hands move to hold your head, moving his head to force your eyes on his. “But please, help me get some bags together?” Your eyes try to avoid his big, brown, frustratingly convincing ones as you attempt to remove yourself from his grasp. Your hands wrap around his wrists to pull them away, but he forces your bandaged one back to his hold.

“Hey, hey. What happened?” His tone is soft, the one he only uses around you. His fingers trace the intricate gauze pattern, one you only could have learned from patching his up so many times.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You almost regret the words the second they leave your mouth, heart wrenching at the hurt that envelopes his face. He tightens his grip on your hand, too stubborn not to get an answer. You only sigh, averting your eyes from his to surpress the tightening of your throat.

“I burned myself. Not a big deal, it was small.”

“How?”

“I was making dinner, water boiled over. Really it was nothing.”

“And you took care of it correctly?”

“Ran it under cold water for ten minutes. Made sure it was clean. Applied aloe and re-applied every other hour. Took Advil. Not my first rodeo.” He forces out a small huff of amusement, and a part of you wishes he wouldn’t let you go. Reluctantly, you pull away. Putting as much space between yourself and him to keep yourself from embracing him and forgetting anything even happened. His stomach drops at your cold nature, though he knows it’s well deserved.

You work in silence, mind racing with essentials you’ll need, along with a few of Max’s favorite toys and treats. Frank darts around the apartment and gathers his own necessities, checking the amount of ammunition in the various artillery hidden around the house as if it’s second nature.

You’re out the door in minutes, Frank holds an umbrella over your head as you triple check the bags, he doesn’t even seemed phased at the freezing rain that pours down on him. You’d tried to get him to get under the umbrella to no avail. The bastard was stubborn, especially when it came to chivalry.

The drive is silent the first 20 minutes, Max lays sound asleep in the back as you sit in the passenger side. Texting friends and family about a ‘surprise trip’ Frank planned for the weekend. He studies you, the overwhelming guilt he’s been feeling these past days multiplying at the notion of you having to lie to your loved ones. He’s put you through this, and he can’t forgive himself for letting you love him.

“Can you tell me what’s going on now?” Frank glances from the road to look at you, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“It’s…Honestly safer you don’t know.” He winces at your amused scoff, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

“Are we still doing this? You’re gonna get into trouble and take us to some safe house I had no idea existed after disappearing for three days?” He purses his lip, you’re partly satisfied you’ve left him speechless. “It’s not even about you not telling me what you got into, honestly. I know you’d prefer to keep me out of it.” You admit, nursing the sides of your head at the feeling of an oncoming migraine. “It’s the fact that you went A-wall. You know how shitty that is?”

“Y-yes. Yeah.”

“Obviously not, or else I wouldn’t have been worried sick these last few days.”

“Can you just let me-”

“What, explain? You lost the communication privilege when you left without a fucking word. Or at the very least, a text letting me know you were safe. You were alive.” Your voice breaks at the end of your sentence, and Frank swallows to suppress the rage that boils in his stomach when he sees a tear slip down your cheek. He hates to see you cry. Despises when he’s the one that’s caused it. “Are we far enough to stop?”

“The house is another hour out.” Frank looks in the review out of habit, glancing over at your trembling form.

“Can we stop for a second?”

“I’d feel better if we got to the house-”

“Pull over.”

“No.”

“Frank-”

“I said no, damnit!” His fist collides with the dash board, you and Max jolt at the sound.

“Francis Castiglione, pull this car the fuck over!” Fury makes your blood run hot, you’re too overwhelmed to think straight.

Now, Frank Castle is not a man that lets anyone force him to do something. Ever. Unless, of course…it’s you. Muttering a series of unintelligible curse words, he swiftly pulls the car to the side of the road. Not expecting you to throw open the door and jump out of the truck and onto the side of the road. Thundering rain beginning to consume your clothes.

“Jesus Christ. Max, stay.” He immediately follows you, yelling after you to cease these antics. “Hey, hey! Don’t walk away from me? You hear me?” He’s yelling over the rain, pissed off at your unpredictable actions. You spin on your heel at his words, trudging through the mud to close the space between you.

“Oh, so you don’t want me to walk away? Don’t want me to up and leave when things get hard? Well welcome to the fucking club.”

He shakes his head with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? We agreed when we moved in together to never abandon each other. To work through every argument and never leave angry, ever. You promised, you fucking promised me! Did that mean nothing to you? You think it’s okay to leave me pacing the fucking apartment for days on end, pleading and begging that you’d walk through that door? You’re a liar, and you betrayed your word. Betrayed me.” You poke at his chest to emphasize your words, teeth clenched with rage.

“You think I want this for you? I can’t keep an eye on you if I’m out of the city, I need you to be with me so I know you’re okay. I hate that you have to be involved in this, and I fucking despise myself for putting you through all of this. You deserve better, I know that!”

“But I chose you! What makes you think this is one sided? I knew what I was signing up for when I fell in love with you, I chose this! But I can’t do this if you just randomly go A-wall like that! You can’t even begin to imagine how scared I was. This incessant, debilitating nausea while I sat beside the police radio.” You shake your head with a cold, disingenuous laugh. Biting down on the cut on your lip and cringing at the pain. “I’ve memorized your fucking height, weight, any other descriptive features if god forbid you were found dead. You can’t do that to me Frank. I mean I physically will not be able to handle that again.” You choke back a sob into your soaked sleeve, arm shooting out to prevent his embrace.

All he wants is to hold you. To beg you to forgive him for what he’s done. He won’t ever deserve you, but he’ll fight like hell to make it up to you. He reaches for you again, taking a small step back when you shove at his chest.

“You don’t get to hug this better! You promised, you promised me. And you fucking left me!” Warm tears mix with the freezing rain running down your skin, and your hits get harder, more desperate as your body racks with sobs.

“Hey, stop it. Just stop, please.” He’s able to grab hold of your wrists, pulling your trembling frame to his. Wincing when you struggle in his hold.

“You promised.” You mutter through chattering teeth. The adrenaline and anger finally succumbing to the cold.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Frank is sure he can feel his heart split in half, getting on his knees as your legs give out. You’re exhausted, not having slept more than in hour in three days has finally caught up to you. And every bone in your body begs for rest.

“Please don’t leave again. Not like that.” You shove your face into his neck, allowing yourself to hold him for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I won’t, I’m sorry sweetheart. So fucking sorry.” He mutters into your drenched hair, vowing to himself to never do this to you again.

Eventually, he gets the two of you back into the car. Pulling you into his lap in the passenger’s seat. Silently greeting a very concerned Max. Brows furrowing when the dog stills at his touch. He shakes it off, grabbing the fleece blanket from the other side of the back seat and wrapping you in it.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine Frank.”

“Just let someone take care of you for once, yeah?” He says sternly. Tugging the fabric around you tighter and rubbing your back to warm you. Relieved you’ve managed to calm down.

“We’re soaked.” You hiccup a laugh between cries and feel him chuckle under you.

“So much for the fucking umbrella. Your crazy ass is gonna catch your death running out like that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve managed to drive me nuts this week.”

“No, I blame me. I’m sorry baby, really.” He mumbles out the last part between kisses to the crown of your head, petting Max’s head that pops between the two front seats to check on you. Max looks to you for permission, only licking Franks hand when you give him a curt nod.

“You’re only gonna love on me when she says it’s okay? You’re a traitor, you know that you mutt?” Despite his aggressive words, he plants a kiss to the dogs head, who licks at the rain droplets on your cheek.

“I told him we were mad at you. Your loyalty lies with mom, huh buddy?” You scratch at the special spot behind his ear with a smile. For the first time in days, Frank feels warm.

“I missed that.” He mutters almost to himself, not expecting you to look up in question.

“Missed what.”

“That pretty smile of yours, could kill me.” He whispers out, thumb tracing your bottom lip gently.

“Smooth, Castle. You’re still in the dog house. Max gets your side of the bed tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Let the kiss-ass have my girl for the night.” He nudges Max’s side with his elbow, chuckling when the dog only licks at his ear. You sigh, finally warming up with the help of their presence. In the middle of an empty road in up-state New York, in the middle of the night, you’re a little family. A fucked up, undoubtedly dysfunctional, but nevertheless loving family.

You take the rare occasion of peace to study him. The small light on the roof of the car is all that illuminates Franks face, your eyes trace each and every one of his features. Your favorite scars, the shadows and highlights of his beautiful silhouette. You’re still both soaked, but you don’t think you’ve felt this comfortable in a long time. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace his sharp jaw, grabbing his attention from Max as his tired eyes reach yours.

“When was the last time you slept?” You mutter through hooded eyes, stoking his bruised jaw. He glances at you, eyes leaving you to look back at the rain pattering on the road ahead.

“D’know, never sleep well when you’re not there.” He confesses simply, subconsciously pulling you closer to his chest.

“Feeling is mutual.” Is all you can muster through a heavy yawn.

“Close your eyes baby. Get some sleep.” He orders through a gentle kiss to your cheek. You shake your head, despite your eyes being closed already.

“Don’t want you to have to stay up and drive alone.”

“I won’t be, I have Max. And besides, you need the rest more than I do. Sleep for me, please. Cant have you losing any more rest because of me.” He runs his thumb over your eyebrows and cheekbones, knowing it sends you to slumber almost instantly.

“Y’sure?” You move closer into his neck, gathering as much warmth as you can from him.

“Positive.” He doesn’t even have to carry on before you’re fast asleep, no doubt exhausted from all that’s ensued.

He turns on the radio as the storm carries on. Taking a few minutes to ensure you’re fully asleep before shuffling out from under you to start driving again.

“C’mere Max. Keep your mama warm for me.” The raven-haired man softly pats the space beside you. The dog does as told, stepping over the glove compartment and curling into your side now that Frank’s fully reclined your seat. He rests his head on your thigh, shuffling closer into you as if he’s also trying to enjoy the newfound warmth.

************************

The storm has finally ceased once the car pulls in the gravel driveway. Quietly, Frank leaves the car to give the quaint cabin a once-over. Ensuring it’s clear of any unlikely danger before heading back to get you and your bags. He’s careful not to wake you, slipping one arm under your knees and the other just below your arms. You don’t stir until he’s placed you on the bed, pulling off your shoes before going back out the door to get the bags. Max follows him each of the two trips, making sure to stay by his side as any hood guard dog would. When Frank returns, you’ve remained passed out, damp clothes still on. Reluctantly, he puts a hand on your waist to wake you, smiling when you finally stir.

“You’re gonna get sick in this wet clothes, hun.” He speaks softly into the shell of your ear, chuckling when he’s successfully woken you with the ticklish feeling.

“Let me get sick then.” You grumble into your pillow, groaning when he rises from the mattress and tugs your ankles to get you to the edge of the bed.

“Just get out of those and put this on. Then you can go right back to bed, yeah?”

“Mmph.” He rolls his eyes fondly at your grumpy demeanor, beginning to change into new clothes of his own. Watching as you discard the garments he’s laid out for you on the bed that belong to you. Ruffling through his bag to find one of his long-sleeves and a pair of boxers.

“Y’know, you might as well start buying mens clothes in my size if you’re just gonna steal all my shit.”

“Not the same.” You quip instantly, collecting the both of your discarded piles of clothes and searching the dim house.

“Where’s the washer and dryer?” He chuckled to himself, taking the clothes from you and heading past the kitchen.

“Forgot you’ve never been here.” You trail behind him, surveying the rooms curiously. It’s definitely bigger than your apartment, but not as large as the average home. You lean against the doorway as he starts the load of wash, too focused on the task to notice you studying him.

“Get back to bed.” He fiddles with buttons, muttering a curse under his breathe at the old machine. You step in front of him, easily turning it on with a triumphant smirk.

“Show off.” Is all he says, the two of you smiling when you come to face him. Running you hands trough his now dried hair. Without thinking, he leans into your touch. Humming as his hands reach your hips.

“We should both go to bed, we need the sleep.”

“I still have to unpack some things. Then get a few affairs in order.” His eyes wander around the room, and you can practically see his mind running with unnecessary tasks.

“Nope, you’re going to bed. We can worry about it in the morning.”

“Y/n/n.”

“We’re safe, right?” You raise your brows knowingly, continuing massaging his scalp as he nods. Brown eyes blinking increasingly slow as you work.

“Then we’re going to bed, cmon.” He doesn’t fight when you tug him back to the kitchen. Two of you laughing when you try to remember which door led to the bedroom. He pushes at your hips to lead you the right way, not surprised to see Max curled at the bottom of the bed.

He can eventually fully relax once you’ve all settled in. All doors and windows double-checked to ensure they’re locked. When you settle in on your side, an arm wraps around you to pull your body close. You shift to face him, leaning into the hand that strokes at your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Your heart wrenches at how solemn he sounds in the dark of night, pulling his hand to your lips to kiss his rough palm.

“I know.”

He sighs, and despite the lack of light you can feel his eyes on your lips. Tension building when he inches his head closer to yours.

“Frank Castle, are you trying to kiss me?”

“Maybe.”

“When you’re in the dog house?” Your tone is teasing, but it nevertheless adds to his frustration when you let him chase your lips. He lets out a ‘hmph’ silence filling the air after you release a small laugh.

“…Please?” He whispers so you can just barely hear, a smile enveloping your features as you nod. Letting your lips collide for what you realize is the first time in days. He seems to realize at the same time, deepening the embrace with a satisfied smirk. You’re the first to pull away, both breathing heavily to capture air.

“Alright, go to sleep Castle.” You press a gentle kiss to his jaw, shuffling your head into his chest with a contented sigh.

“Yes mam.”

Part Two

Masterlist

[prettyboykatsuki]

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

__

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

__

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

__

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

[loveaffaire]

OK OK OK!! SO I SAW THIS IN MY REELS!! how about a tom holland or peter Parker x reader (u choose) where they both are arguing over something that tom/peter did by mistake (not cheating tho) and tom/peter just doesn’t know what to say so he just screams out her name and continues to ramble his mistake and her how sorry he is.......BUT WHEN HE SCREAM HER NAME HE ACTUALLY SAID Y/N Y/M/N HOLLAND (or Parker)

and reader is just like all shocked and blushing and she just kisses him to shut up his rambling and it’s all cute fluffy with apologies and cute overall heart melting! I hope you write this I love your work❤️❤️❤️

His Last Name Next To Mine

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Arguing, controlling family issues, angst, some cute fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: I think Tom is someone who will definitely have that slip up lol. I wrote this at 3am and i haven’t proof-read it so yeah, I hope you still like it though<3

“I can’t believe you did that, Tom” you snarled as you walked through the apartment door, almost shutting the door on Tom’s face in the process.

You were so angry, you were livid. You’ve just come back from a dinner party at your parents and your lovely boyfriend has blurted out something he shouldn’t have.

“I said I am sorry!” Tom said sharply as he locked the door behind him, kicking off his shoes near the shoe rack.

“No, sorry doesn’t cut it! I told you to not tell them and then you just slip up like that?” you yelled from across the living room with your hands up with your hair from frustration as you looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Yes I made a mistake,” he yelled back, now getting a little angry with all the fuss,”I told them that we’re moving away to New York and you’re taking that new job because I slipped! It wasn’t intentional!” he loosened up his tie and started walking towards you.

“Don’t come near me Tom, I’m really mad at you” you whispered angrily as you tried to calm yourself down. You pulled a chair out and sat on it, keeping your palms flat on the cold table.

Tom stopped right in his tracks, “I don’t know why you’re so angry, you were gonna tell them anyway right, baby?”

You scoffed as you looked up at him, “yes, that’s correct, I was going to tell them myself which you ruined!”

You pushed the chair back as you stood up, your heels clicking on the hard floor as you made your way to the bedroom. Tom followed you with a stony look on his face.

“Y/N, don’t you walk out on me when we’re talking- hey!”

You banged the bedroom door as you walked into the bedroom, almost breaking the thin necklace as you removed it from your neck. You heard the bedroom door slowly opening.

“Don’t bang doors in my face, Y/N” he said with his eyebrows raised, nose flaring with anger.

You took a sharp turn, facing him, you said, “you know what’s your problem, Tom-“

“Yeah, tell me what’s my problem” he cut you off this time as he stood close to you, trapping you between his hard chest and the wall behind you.

“Oh, I will tell you what your problem is,” you narrowed your eyes at him, pushing his chest away and stepping aside. Tom didn’t stop you, he always respected your boundaries, even when you both were arguing.

“I’m angry because you told them we’re moving away when I was planning to tell them that when we have already shifted! You know how controlling they can be; how they get in my head and now they will try to do it again. I don’t want them to control me anymore, Tom!” You snapped as your eyes started to get wet.

It was true, you parents were always a little too involved in your life and as a 26 year old, you hated it. You kept things from them and only told them when it was done with, you felt that it was the only way to have some privacy.

Tom knew it all too well. He knew how controlling they were and how they tried to get in your head. Hearing you express this as you looked at him with teary eyes broke his heart as he tasted guilt on his tongue.

“Baby, I’m sorry. Listen, come here-“

“And I hate how you’re making it look like I’m making a big deal out of this by yelling at me!” You stomped your feet and shook your fists like a little kid but you were so frustrated, it didn’t matter.

You slowly stepped away from him as you clutched your head, you felt a headache coming.

“Baby,” Tom huffed, “you know I hate it when you walk away from me during an argument-“

You turned on your heels as you reached for the bathroom door, twisting it open as you quickly walked inside and oh boy, Tom decided that he has had enough of you walking away in the middle of his sentences.

“Wait- Y/N Y/M/N HOLLAND YOU COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

You heard the door shut behind you as you stood cold in your tracks, your fists opening up in shock. In a daze, you turned around and slowly unlocked the door and peeked outside. Tom stood there cold in his tracks with his mouth slightly open in shock as his forehead glistened because of the thin layer of sweat. You both looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What did you s-say?” You whispered as you blinked slowly, waiting for him to answer.

Tom opened his mouth and then closed it, no words coming out as he waved his hands around in panic, “I said Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N” he said quickly.

“My last name sounds nothing like whatever you said but it did sound a lot like your last name. . .” You said cautiously as you took small steps towards him.

“I- okay fine, I said Holland. Please don’t be mad” he whimpered as he bit his bottom lip, clasping his hands together.

“Why would I be mad?” you said softly, you hated seeing him scared and right now, he looked terrified.

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he blabbered as he closed the distance between you two, wrapping his arms around your body, “you know when you think about something a lot in your head and that thing kinda slips out of your mouth? Yeah that is what happened again and I know I pissed you off before and I don’t want to do it again, I’m so sor-“

You softly pressed your lips to his, he got the hang of it pretty quickly as his lips started to move against yours in an instant. You felt his tongue making its way to yours as you pulled back, your face still close to his. Tom frowned as he pouted his lips, asking for more.

“Do you think about it often?” you asked gently as you brushed his hair away from his forehead, “like-like my name with your um last name?” You felt shy, your cheeks turned rosy as you looked down briefly.

“I think about it all the time” he said rather quickly, resting his forehead to yours.

He bumped his nose against yours playfully, your bodies clinging to each other. In that moment you and Tom were one.

“I know we’ve been together for just 2 years and we’re so young but I can’t help it” he mumbled against your lips as your eyes fluttered, “can’t help it if you look like an angel, can’t help it if I wanna kiss you the moment I wake up, just can’t help myself”

You embraced him in your hold, lips roughly meeting his in a passionate kiss. Butterflies bursting in your stomach from his little speech. His tongue successfully made its way to yours this time, gently picking you up to place you on the bed as he gripped your body.

Tom felt you gasp as he kissed you again, you moved your body away from his hold gently as he loosened his grip. Tears streamed down your face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” he panicked as he cupped your face. You sat up as Tom supported his body on his knees, you shook your head.

“No no. I’m just- I’m so overwhelmed, I love you” you said as you laughed softly, feeling a little embarrassed now as you worried him for no reason at all.

“Oh baby” he signed as he kissed your cheeks, “I feel awful about tonight though, I should have been more careful” he frowned his brows as he looked at you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you” you sniffled as you choked on your words.

He admired you as you dried your wet eyes, how gorgeous you looked even when you were crying tears of joy.

“I have a crazy idea” he whispered, brushing your hair out of your face, he spoke up again before you could say anything, “maybe we should get married”

To Tom’s surprise, you hadn’t freaked out, rather quickly nodded your head. Tom almost pulled a nerve when you told him that you were thinking the same thing. The next morning, you picked out a pretty white dress and he fixed his tie, you both walked out of the court with his last name next to your first name and you realised that you’ve never been this happy before.

A/N: so. . . yeah? Don’t know how I feel about this, I also have absolutely no idea how court marriages work.

Leave some feedback below if you liked this, would appreciate it if you can like/reblog! Thank you!!

© loveaffaire

[avtrbee]

late night punishments

this is my first smut so KJJSHDKFJ please send some feedback, i wanna know the areas in the fic that are good and the ones where it needs to be fixed a lil. enjoy :>

here's my masterlist

summary: gojo finds out you disobeyed his orders, causing him to give you a piece of his mind

warnings/tags: degradation, choking, spit swallowing (?), breeding, overstim, face slapping, gojo being a lil mean to y/n, smut so 18+ please

nsfw under the cut

You cried. You can’t help it. You’ve been on your back, fists crumpling the sheets in an attempt to grab something, and legs spread wide open for Gojo Satoru for who knows how long, his hand gripping your hip tightly that you were sure it would bruise, and the other one on squeezing your left breast.

You feel your tears stream down, mixing with the sweat and the saliva on your face. You were overwhelmed by the feeling of being too full, too good, too much, and above you, Satoru grins.

Your tears don’t deter him, instead, it encourages him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, 7-inch dick snug inside your cum filled pussy, pushing in and out all over and over again. You can hear yourself from the way your juices react to his cock. If anything his actions make you cry out more.

“Aw,” he coos, never stopping his thrusts, in fact snapping even harder, “why are you crying? What happened to all your bravado?”

His voice sounded so gentle, so caring, and soft. It almost fooled your almost mindless state, but you knew him well enough that it’s just a facade. He doesn’t care if he hurts you, as seen by the love bruises littered all over your neck that trail down to your thighs. You don't mind it though. You were drunk on him.

“C’mon, can you come for me?” Gojo asked, caressing your face. You merely sob out in response because you can’t, you’ve already come more times than you even cared to count, you’re spent and you’re tired. Satoru has also cum twice, and it marvels you how his dick was still that hard, how he’s still going. “I- I can’t- Satoru please-“

“Whaaaat?” He asked, slowing down his thrusts to a full stop. He looks back at you with half of his dick still inside you, a mixture of your cum and his escape to the sheets. For a moment your body sags in rest. “You can’t?”

“N-no…!” You cry out. “I can’t anymore, please.”

Satoru looked at you with his head tilted, as if contemplating your plea. Unfortunately, you missed the way his eyes glinted when he reached to pull out your vibrator. You were still comprehending how he got your toy and how he knew when Satoru thrust back inside you. You groaned, reliving the feeling of being full coming back, your pussy clamping at the sudden intrusion.

Satoru’s eyes rolled back to his head. “How are you still so tight?” He chuckles, flipping the switch of the vibrator. “I’ve been fucking you for hours and yet your fucking pussy still wants more. I married such a whore.” He whispers to no one, flicking your swollen clit with his finger.

He presses the vibrator’s head on to where your clit was, and you let out a scream so loud you’d reckon you would have woken half of the Gojo estate if there were any people. The benefits of being the only two Gojos were that Satoru can make you scream as loud as you can and no one would hear. It was too much, too good.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” he hissed, slowing down, but thrusting even deeper. “How you used this when I’m away? I could smell you on this toy, whore.” Satoru pressed the vibrator harder against you. You hear a switch and you feel the vibrator go faster, making you cry out, tears streaming down your face mixing with the saliva leaking off your mouth.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You gulp, trying to form coherent words. You were in a system overload, overwhelmed with how Satoru has been pounding in and out of you for hours, and now with the sudden intrusion of your beloved vibrator.

You really didn’t mean to. Satoru had made it clear that you were not to touch yourself while he’s away and in turn, he wouldn’t touch himself on his mission trip. Think about the desperate, mind-blowing sex we’ll do when I get back! He said cheerfully after seeing your disapproving stare. And while that was a good argument to make you last two weeks, you found yourself frustrated and angry and missing your husband just a little bit too much. “I-I just missed you, Satoru. I was n-never satisfied, it could never compare to you…!”

Above you, your husband's face morphed into an expression of displeasure. His piercing gaze stared at you disgustingly, as if you said something to insult him. “Oh? You missed me?” he asked with a high-pitched mocking tone. “Shut the fuck up, bitch.”

You felt a harsh slap on your face before his hand crawled on your neck and Satoru started to squeeze. The sensation made you tighten up with your eyes rolling at the back of your head. His pace was relentless still, never giving you a break. It wasn’t until you started seeing dark spots did Satoru let go of your neck.

You feel him toss the vibrator somewhere on the bed, and you could feel yourself flinching from its effect on you. Satoru’s hands found your face as he went deep inside you in a mating press.

“O-oh-“ you groan, enjoying the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Open.” He commanded. His hands squeezed your cheeks tightly, and with little to no resistance, you opened your mouth as wide as you can with your tongue sticking out. The sight of you made Satoru chuckle. You looked so helpless, so lost in the bliss of pleasure that you’ve let go of your composure. “Swallow.”

Blue eyes watched you eye the string of saliva that came out of his mouth that you happily caught on your tongue. His spit felt warm and different in your mouth, but the idea of him coating your insides that his cock could not reach sparked a flame in you. You happily swallowed him.

“I know we agreed on having no children,” Gojo started, keeping you in a mating press, thrusting inside you over and over again. “But I’m really tempted to make you a mommy, Y/n-chan.” He threatens, pushing his cock deeper inside you. “Tsumiki wouldn’t mind a little sibling and Megumi will be glad he isn’t the youngest anymore, yeah?”

Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, lost in the pleasure Satoru generously gives you. “P-please, faster- faster…!”

“Hey,” Satoru says before slapping your face harshly. His hand goes back to your face to grip your chin, forcing you to stare at his eyes again. “I asked you a question, Y/N. Don’t you want to be a mommy?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he lets you go and flips you on your stomach. You barely register the bed before a hand grabs a fistful of your hair, lifting you on your knees.

“Please, please be a mommy for me,” he whispers in your ear. He lets go of your hair and uses an arm to hug your shoulders closer to him. “Look over there, Y/N-chan.”

He guides you to look at the long mirror in front of you that you usually use to check your outfits before leaving. Now a reflection of your naked body stares back at you with Satoru behind. You see everything- from the bruises he left along your neck and thighs to how you desperately push your ass into him, a silent plea for his cock. Your pussy is dripping, so much so that the majority of your inner thighs are coated with lines of Satoru’s falling cum from earlier. If you spread your knees wide enough, you can spot more liquid falling directly out of your pussy to the bed.

You watch as his free hand opens and presses your stomach. “This stomach is going be full of my cum, and eventually, my baby.” He whispers in your ear. “I know I’ve already filled this tummy twice, but I’m gonna do it one more time. Just in case.”

“Wait, Satoru-“ You feel him aligning his cock back into your pussy- and then he thrusts, faster than he has before. You scream, both of your hands clinging to the arm around your shoulder for support. Satoru keeps you in place firm enough for you to watch yourself be fucked by him in the mirror. You see your tits bounce upon each thrust, and his hand pressing even stronger on your stomach. You look absolutely pathetic in the mirror, head barely supporting itself with your hair in a mess. There was a familiar feeling stirring in your stomach, an early warning that you’re about to come again, something you didn’t even know was possible up until this point.

“Ohoho,” Satoru giggles. He presses his nose to your ear as he whispers, his hot breath hot against your skin. “You think I can’t feel you squeeze my dick every time you hear me say that I’ll get you pregnant? “

Lost in the pleasure and in chasing your high, you involuntarily squeeze him again, earning another laugh from Satoru. “I’ll do it, Y/N,” he vows and you find yourself meeting each thrust he gives you. “I’ll get you pregnant, wifey.”

“I’m close-“ you gasp, desperately grinding yourself against him.

“Yeah? You are?” He asks and you feel the hand on your stomach crawl to your inner thighs before furiously rubbing your clit. “Cum then. Cum.”

You scream at the sudden overstimulation. Then finally you’re in your high, eyes seeing stars while milking Satoru’s cock so good. He stops rutting in you, lost through how good you feel around him squeezing again and again like he hasn’t fucked you for hours. You feel yourself shake at the near end of your orgasm until your legs gave up and made you drop on the bed. The bed thuds as Satoru falls behind you.

After a few moments, you breathe out a puff of hot air while staring at the ceiling. “That was great.”

Beside you, Satoru grins and it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen. His hair is flat sticking to his face, and his blue eyes are so full of love it makes your heart burst. He kisses your shoulder so gently as if he didn’t fuck you to oblivion just a few seconds ago. “I know. I’m the best.”

You roll your eyes at him. God, you love him-

“Y/n-san, Gojo-san,” called a voice from your door. “I threw up.”

You whip your head so quick to the door only to find Megumi holding the doorknob. He was in his pajamas, with the stuffed dog toy Gojo bought for him on his other hand. He did look sick, your poor boy, but you really couldn’t focus on the child. You were too busy scrambling to cover yourself with the blanket.

“Oi, Megumi. Wanna have a little sibling?” asked Satoru playfully at the same time Megumi asked, “Why are you sweaty?”

“I want a little sibling!” shouted Tsumiki, rushing into your room. “I do! I do!”

Was she there the entire time? Your mind blanks at the thought of Tsumiki possibly hearing everything that you didn’t even notice Satoru smirk and you. “Told ‘ya.”

-

Megumi stared at the pavement beneath him wide-eyed and with a heavy breath. “They weren’t wrestling…”

He felt a smack at his back and flinched to his side, only to see Itadori’s concerned face. “Oi, Fushiguro. You’re not looking well.”

Megumi could only stare at him in shock. “They weren’t wrestling.”

"Huh?"

[livingforthewhump]

Oh my gosh plz plz more of the one where caretaker snaps at whumpee so that whumpee leaves and caretaker feels so guilty

today’s the day, folks! I wrote this while being forced to kick a soccer ball in gym class so hopefully it’s decent :)

sequel to this drabble

—

It took calling them five times before Whumpee picked up. At that point Caretaker was almost too scared, too lost in tears, to say anything. But the sound of Whumpee’s scared breathing on the other side of the connection spurred them into action.

“Whumpee? Please, I’m sorry. Will you… will you come home?”

There was a painful beat of silence before they answered, softly. “I-I can’t.”

Caretaker’s heart wrenched, but they heard something new and bad in Whumpee’s tone. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m, I, I’m sorry but can you, can you come get me?” A muffled sound that might have been a sob followed the words.

Caretaker was on their feet in an instant. “Of course. Where are you? What happened?”

“I, I went to the restaurant down the street? Because, cause you always told me if I was scared to go someplace in public,” they said, sounding hesitant, shaky.

Caretaker grabbed their keys before deciding walking would be faster. “Okay, good. That’s good.”

But Whumpee was still talking. “But Whumper is here and I don’t know if they’ve seen me yet but I’m scared and I know you’re mad at me but please please don’t let Whumper take me again, please, I’ll be good, and won’t bother you, please—“

If Caretaker didn’t have proof that they were living by their feet pounding on the sidewalk, they would have sworn their heart had stopped in their chest. “I’m not mad at you, Whumpee, I swear. I never should have said that and I’m so so sorry. Just stay on the phone with me, okay? And let me know if Whumper does anything. I’m going to be there as soon as possib—“

And the line went dead.

Caretaker ground out all of the curses in their vocabulary as they called back and waited and waited, but Whumpee didn’t answer. If possible, they started to run faster.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant they were out of breath, throat and lungs burning from the air pumped in and out. Their hair was a mess and they were sure they had a crazed look in their eyes, but none of that stopped them from bursting inside.

They immediately spotted Whumpee tucked away in a corner booth, staring at something in front of them with wide, tearful eyes.

Caretakers hands curled into fists as they surged forward, eyes fixed on Whumpee until they stopped beside them.

“Hey Whumpee, you ready to go?” They forced their tone to stay casual, fooling nobody.

Whumpee looked up at them and their heart panged at the helplessness in their eyes as they nodded. Caretaker finally clenched their jaw and turned to look at Whumper, who was studying them with interest, lips quirked in a smirk.

“So you’re Caretaker.” Whumper winked at Whumpee. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Stay away from them,” Caretaker snarled. Whumpee stood behind them, practically hiding behind their set shoulders.

Whumper’s smile grew. “Seems like you should keep a better hold on them.”

Caretaker shot them a glare and walked away, but the words stuck like barbed wire in their mind, jumbling their thoughts as they took Whumpee away.

“Are you okay?” Caretaker asked as soon as they were out of sight of the building. “ What did they say to you?”

Whumpee just hunched their shoulders, shaking their head. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I had—”

“Whumpee, don’t ever apologize for asking for help. I’ll always be here for you.” They took a deep breath, watching Whumpee carefully. “You know I didn’t mean what I said, right? I didn’t mean any of it. I was just stressed and overwhelmed and I took that out on you, which wasn’t fair at all and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Caretaker frowned. “I don’t want it to just be ‘okay’. I don’t want you to say that and let things like that happen just because it’s what you’re used to. It wasn’t okay, and if you need to be angry at me for a while, I deserve it.”

Whumpee shook their head again, slowly reaching out to take Caretaker’s hand. “I forgive you. Not… not because it was okay. But because you’re okay. I believe that you didn’t mean it, even though it was…scary. To hear you say it.”

Caretaker’s brow tightened and they found themselves blinking back tears. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“That’s too bad, cause it seems like you’re stuck with me.” Whumpee flashed them a shaky grin, and they felt a tear trace down their cheek.

—

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @shameful-indulgence @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive

And some others interested in the continuation! @swift-perseides @whumpymirages @hurting-fictional-people

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Too many options

Yelena Belova x reader, a lil bit angsty, a lil bit fluffy, mentions of mindcontrol, happy ending as usual, adjusting to ordinary life

You wanted this evening so badly. Dreaming about it for weeks. Finally everything was close to normal. No alien invasions or governmental missions. No nightmares or tears for both of you for almost a month. You were expecting an ordinary date. As much as it can be under your circumstances.

But Yelena wasn't there yet. You were waiting in your meeting spot for almost an hour. It wasn't something new. Out of a sudden she could have a briefing or a mandatory status report. But she always managed to at least send a text. When both of you were particularly lucky she even could call you.

But this time it was different. Not a text, not a call. You yourself tried to contact her a few times. Her number was unavailable.

You had a bad feeling about this. How could you not. You knew too well the nature of her work. The possible outcomes and consequences. The ones that didn't let you sleep at night. Horrific dreams of her possible injury, even death. Yelena tried so hard to help you fight this, while being simultaneously consumed by other fears herself.

Adjusting was hard. Especially in the first few months of your relationship. It was mere weeks when you met after she was freed of mind control.

And in the beginning it was intense. Sure, Avengers did provide the resources for needed support. But it was you who had to deal with mood swings, depressions or anger issues.

Adjusting to the real world was hard, exhausting and painful.

Yelena warned you though in the beginning. She's not used to ordinary life. But with you she'd like to try.

It was getting ridiculous, so you went home.

What you saw there shocked you.You didn't know whether Yelena was there or not so opted to use your own key.

There were piles of clothes on the floor in the hallway. Yelena's clothes. What the hell was going on?

"Lena, are you here?"

No answer. You carefully proceeded to the next room. The same thing. Piles of shirts and jeans, jackets and coats were just lying around. They were not torn or anything. Just there, waiting to be picked up and worn.

"Yelena?" You called again, hoping for at least something.

When you finally reached your bedroom you were almost afraid to get inside.

"Love, are you there?" You asked as you were opening the door.

You sighed with relief. But it lasted only a second.

Your woman was sitting on her knees near the biggest stack of staff. Her hair tangled, eyes red from tears. She was wearing a weird mix of pajama pants and her bra.

As soon as you understood the surrealism of the situation you rushed to her.

"Babe, what's happened?" You clumsily fell on your knees in front of her.

She didn't react, blankly staring at the mirror, which you now were blocking.

"Малыш, что случилось? (Babe, what happened?)" You said in your broken Russian. That was the trick that you often used to calm her down. It was her idea in fact. She taught you this language herself.

Yelena heard you and slowly opened and closed her mouth.

"Лена, кто-то был здесь? Тебя ранили? (Lena, someone was here? Are you hurt?)"

You carefully examined her face, barely touching her. No blood, no visible injury. Same with the neck and shoulders.

It took her almost five minutes to properly feel you on her skin. She was confused, but she was finally there with you.

"What, what are you doing?" She removed your hand from her body. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean..."

"I said, I'm fine." Yelena raised her voice, but immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I know you have questions. But I did it myself."

"Yourself?" You echoed in disbelief.

"Да. (yes)" She got on her feet. And put on the nearest t-shirt. "I... It's hard to explain."

"Do you want something. Anything?" You couldn't fathom what was going on. But you were sure that Yelena thought of this as "I can handle this on my own" situations. And that wasn't a good sign.

"No." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I've missed our dinner."

"It's fine. We'll have another one." You gave her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, if It doesn't happen next time too." She laughed bitterly. "With me you never know, ha? Kinda like a time bomb."

You tried to approach her, but she shook her head.

"It's always like that. Aren't you tired of it? We're having a great day, week, month. But I always find a way to screw it up."

She hated herself during moments like this. Always feeling like she still didn't have control over her own life. Who knew where and when the next outburst could happen. And what could trigger it.

"It's not your fault." You once again tried to reach out to her. This time she stepped away from you.

"Right." She let out a groan. "But it's my fault. But somehow it's because of me, we're standing in this mess instead of enjoying our life together."

She was so angry, so frustrated. This was supposed to be your romantic evening. Personal, intimate. All those things she was always denied.

"We are enjoying ourselves. It's just an episode..."

"Really? That's how you call it?" Yelena was almost hysterical. "A fucking episode. Do you even..."

She clenched her fists, and the vein on her neck could burst at any moment. She started pacing the room, avoiding at any cost looking at you.

"You want to know what happened? I was preparing, you know, choosing the clothes. Started thinking about it. And I..." She suddenly stopped, trying at least to calm her breath. "I... I got overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do. You won't believe it, but suddenly I felt a burden of responsibility... What should I wear, how should I combine clothes and how others would perceive me. How you would. What color, what style...should I copy someone or I'm good enough myself...I...I was always told what to wear and now..."

You didn't care about her protests anymore. You hugged her, immediately feeling her heartbeat, her fire on your skin. She was trembling all this time, devouring herself from inside, killing another Yelena, the one that she didn't control.

"I... I..." She couldn't stop herself. Weeping and shaking, she was finally defeated by reality.

It took her a few minutes to come back to you. You felt it. She kissed your collarbone, asking for attention.

"I'm with you, babe. I can only imagine what it's like. Being overwhelmed by options, by your own responsibility, by the consequences of the actions you yourself took. But it's ok." You were gently stroking her hair. "You hear me? It's ok. We... We are gonna work on that. Simplify everything. Reduce the number of options. And it's not about clothes, it's a...about everything. We'll get there. I promise."

"You're going to throw everything away?" Yelena whispered.

"Maybe. temporary, I guess. We should have thought it through. Not buy mindlessly everything we see."

"Even my vests?' Yelena sounded so timid. She was hiding in your embrace, putting herself together again.

"Of course not. Кем ты меня считаешь? (who do you think I am?). We're keeping the vests at any cost." You could feel Yelena smiled so close to your heart.

You both knew there was so much hard work ahead. Overcoming and fighting, breaking and building. But you were ready for it. Both of you. It was worth it.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Different Kinds of Falls

Request : autumn themed + underwear store with Wilhemina

A/N: @blacksmokieee25 since you’re probably not going to bed until the sun rises, I’m posting this now. Happy birthday lovely ^^ I tried lacing together your two requests and came up with this weird, vignette fic that I hope you’ll like. I hope your 23rd year will bring you love and happiness. I’m very glad I know you xx

Warnings: a tiny little bit of smut and a lot of bad English

Word count:  ≃ 4 600

She was like a princess in a fairytale, trapped in a tower and waiting for someone to save her from isolation. Except no one had come. She would have to do the saving herself.

But she was too tired, she protested. She couldn’t do the saving. She said, Because to save someone, you have to think they are worthy, you have to love them at least a little. And the dragon keeping me prisoner – that dragon is me. I cannot save myself for I do not think I’m worthy.

All this of course she didn’t say. You thought it yourself, as you lay in bed watching her, the sheet pulled up high so she could hide herself – she wouldn’t say she’s hiding, she would say she’s cold. You had been reading The Island of Doctor Moreau next to her, a little appalled, a little sleepy, until you had come upon one sentence and stopped. Now you stood watching her as the sentence played in your head like a record spinning again and again.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is dead, too.

Wilhemina felt your gaze on her and glanced at you, looking as if she couldn’t quite believe she had allowed you to lie half naked in her bed like that. She looked a little fierce, you thought, a little too mean for a lover. She looked like she didn’t quite know how to let herself be loved.

You gave her a smile and ran one finger down her cheek, along her jaw to her chin, down her neck. Wilhemina’s brow furrowed, shoulders tensing as your finger reached the collar of her nightdress.

Will you let me see you naked? you wanted to ask, just a whisper so as not to scare her.

Of course you didn’t.

You wouldn’t make a good hero, you thought. You would make a terrible knight. The one who always runs away first, who says bad jokes to make up for her cowardice and her overwhelming fear of love.

You would take one look at the dragon and leave the princess in her tower.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is thriving, too.

But consider, you thought, as Wilhemina, still frowning, leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips: what if you saw the princess before you saw the dragon. What if the princess saw you. Doesn’t love make the lovers brave?

Wilhemina’s kisses were often clumsy. They were always terrified, that this kiss would be the last, that after it would only come the bite of her own teeth and the burn of her tears. Her fingers slid behind your neck and clutched your hair. She pressed herself against you.

As you guided her head to your neck and closed your eyes, you slipped your hand under her nightdress to feel the skin of her shoulder. Brave? Or stupid? Wilhemina’s breath hitched.

She pressed herself deeper into you.

The Thing that bled and ran screaming and sobbing – that is dying, too.

**

“It’s alright,” you tried, both hands held up, wide eyes quickly shifting from Wilhemina’s face to the fragments of glass on the floor and her bare feet. “Be careful, I can take care of it.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she snapped. Her hand was pressed against her chest, fingers clutching the towel wrapped around her body as if it were the last remaining piece of her broken armor.

You winced.

“It’s alright,” you tried again. “I –”

“Get out!”  

You met her eyes again, wide with fear and fury because you had walked into the bedroom as she was getting dressed, and you had almost seen her, and in her hurry to hide from you she had knocked over the vase with the flowers that she had bought for you three days ago.

“Mina – ”

“Y/N if you do not get out of my sight in the next two seconds I will hurt you.” Voice breaking, hands shaking.

Still you hesitated.

Wilhemina grabbed a pillow – the beside lamp was nearer – and threw it at you.

“GET OUT!”

She never screamed. It was that scream that made you obey.

You stood behind the closed door and listened as she cried.

**

She didn’t believe that you could love her. And yet she felt it, in the way you kissed her, and she saw it shining in your eyes, and in your smile, and she heard it in your voice too. So she tried to find an explanation. You were lonely, in need of company, and a good actress. You were smitten and infatuation blinded you but it wouldn’t last. You were an angel. You had taken pity on her.

She couldn’t find a reason. Some nights it made her so angry she felt like smashing all your things or – even better – destroying herself. She wanted to hurt you and to pull the truth out of your throat so she would understand why and how you were smiling at her like that.

She didn’t believe that you would stay and she didn’t understand why you were here in the first place, but she found that she rather liked your presence. Loved. So she fought against her impulse to be mean and agreed to sometimes share a few things with you; things that lived at the surface, not the big, the dark, the important things that lived deep within her – there was no point sharing those. She hid those and she hid her shame so maybe you would stay a little longer than you had planned.  

It was selfish, she knew it. But she was way past selfishness.

**

You met her on a Saturday afternoon. It was the fall and outside the leaves were falling.

You were scrolling on your phone as you sat, bored, on a chair by the fitting rooms, waiting for your roommate who was trying on the new sexy underwear she’d need in case she successfully seduced the boy who had just moved in next door.

You were distracted by an unfamiliar sound, and looked up just as a woman walked in, supporting herself on a cane and looking as if she owned the whole world. It seemed to you even her nostrils flared a little, in outrage that some servant hadn’t sprayed myrrh or sandal wood in the air to celebrate her arrival.

You eyed her as she passed you, and quickly lowered your gaze as hers met yours. Her eyes were dark. Cold. Glazed.

This woman is scared, you thought, without knowing where the thought came from. She’s terrified.

Just as you were glancing up at her again, your roommate burst out from her fitting room with her arms thrown up in triumph and crashed right into the woman.

The shock sent her stumbling backwards, until her legs bumped into your knees and she fell onto your lap.

Instinctively your hands fell on either side of her waist to steady her, and you felt her flinch and tense up.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

And already she was pushing herself up onto her feet, and you sat as if petrified on your chair, your cheeks flushed, your hands still held up, the reminder of how she had felt burning low right under your skin.

Your roommate immediately walked up to the woman with an apologetic expression on her face and one hand raised as if to touch her shoulder, but she was stopped by the loud, threatening noise of her cane hitting the ground.

The sudden noise broke the trance you had fallen into. You jumped, remembered where you were, became aware that your roommate was wearing a low-cut black lace nightdress that barely hid her body. And the woman was staring at her with anger burning like a low fire in her eyes, but the rest of her face was completely blank, unreadable, terrible.

Your roommate cleared her throat, and decided her safest option was to ignore her. She turned to you, opened her arms and asked in a voice which, to her credit, barely shook at all: “How do I look?”

“Horrendous,” the woman said, her voice quiet and low but laced with contempt and mockery.

What happened next you saw as a movie on a big screen. It felt unreal, somehow, but most of all it felt scripted; part of you already knew exactly what your role would be. It didn’t ask for your approval. It just happened.

Your roommate turned back towards the woman, fists clenching and eyes shining. “Excuse me?” she said, not quiet as the woman had, but loud, and angry.

The woman smirked. “I said,” she answered, still as slowly, “you look horrendous.”

“Then why don’t you try it on and we’ll see if you look any better!” your roommate nearly screamed.

Your gaze was riveted on the woman’s face, and you saw something uneasy flicker in her eyes.

Your roommate saw it, too. Her confidence flared up.

“Come on,” she laughed, taking one step forward. “Go get one your size and put it on I dare you.”

At that exact moment a vendor walked in, alerted by the noise, to peer curiously at the scene. The woman quickly scanned his face, assessing danger.

“Do you ladies need anything?” the vendor asked.

“Yes,” your roommate roared, “another nightdress and then stay with us, you can be our judge, you can decide if she looks any better than me wearing it.”

“I think you look very good,” the vendor said to your roommate politely.

“Ah!” your roommate exulted, turning to the woman again, her eyes burning their way down to rest on her cane, and then up again to sneer, her face shining with the certainty of her triumph.  

That was when, as was scripted, you stood up. You didn’t become aware of your action until your roommate glanced curiously at you. And then you heard yourself speak, something about decency, about kindness, about you leaving if your roommate was going to be such an ass.

You didn’t know what you were saying. Your roommate’s expressions were your only guide. You saw surprise, and then anger. Her eyes narrowed a little. They told you it would take time for her to forgive such a betrayal.

Later, you would say that surely it had been fate pulling the strings. But back then, all that you knew was your body’s vibrating, burning, coming to life with the reminder of how the woman had felt.

**

“I didn’t need your help,” Wilhemina – Ms Venable? Wilhemina – snapped a few minutes later, as you walked out of the store together. The air was cold and already smelt of winter.

“Would you like to get a drink?” you heard yourself say.

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Certainly not.” Another laugh, eyes falling on your face, briefly, as if to make sure you were real.

“Does that mean I’ll never see you again?” was what you said next, and you would have blushed at the plea in your voice if you hadn’t been so intent on making her stay.

“We’ve barely talked,” Wilhemina said, face hardening, “why are you so interested in me?”

She was suspicious, wary, ready to jump at your throat. You didn’t know how to explain what was happening to you – the vibrating, the coming to life – without sounding like a complete fool.

“Let me walk you to your car,” you offered.  

Wilhemina hesitated. Nodded.

When you reached her car, she stood with her back to the door and you laughed nervously and started rambling about the weather because you didn’t want to see her go just yet. You said how autumn was your favorite season because of all the colors and of all the smells. You said you wanted a life full of falls. You said, Falls as in the season, but also as in falling in love. Here you averted your eyes and felt yourself blush.

It wasn’t you talking. It couldn’t be. It was too bold.

You looked up again and said, Why don’t we go on a walk? and don’t stop, until we’ve found a leaf the exact same color as your hair.

At this very moment the breeze blew into Wilhemina’s eyes a strand of hair that had escaped her impeccable ponytail, and she raised her hand to brush it away, fingers gracefully grazing her skin with just a touch of annoyance, and you thought  - Dear Lord, you thought, as one thinks who has just fallen in love.

But you didn’t believe in love at first sight, you reminded yourself. What was it, then? You had seen the dragon and you had seen the princess and they were the same.

But you were no hero. Curiosity? Or your soul whispering to her soul?

But wasn’t that love?

You took a peek. There was inside you the irresistible desire to know everything about her.

You insisted you gave her your number and she accepted it “to get rid of you.”

On the third day after that, she called you.

**

The full moon had risen a few minutes ago and the night shadows had retreated into the corners, where they lurked. You shifted closer to Wilhemina and nuzzled her neck with your nose.

“I’m sorry about the vase,” she whispered. You hummed. Her hand fell on your head. I’m sorry I snapped at you.

You pulled away to meet her eyes, and traced her brow with your thumb. The moonlight painted her in black and silver.

You trailed your finger over her shoulder and stopped at the collar of her nightdress.

“Will you let me see you?” you asked.

You were not sure you were brave enough to watch. But you asked anyway.

Her eyes met yours again. “Don’t forget the story of Lot’s wife,” she answered. “Orpheus and Eurydice. Medusa.”

You planted a kiss on her cheek.

“What these stories teach me is that everyone looks.”

“And they all die.”

“No. They all turn into something else.”

“Eurydice dies,” Wilhemina insisted.

“Are you afraid I’ll die if I see you?”

She shook her head. She let go of you. “It’s not the one who sees that dies. It’s the one who is seen.”

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow to watch her as she got up and crossed the room to the window. She closed it against the cold.

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you?” you insisted.

“I like you blind,” she said.

“But I’d love to see you.”

She turned, gave you a smile that shone a little defiantly. “When Oedipus finally saw, he stabbed himself in the eyes.”

You fell back on the bed with a groan. “Enough with mythology. We aren’t gods. We aren’t heroes.” You opened your arms to hold her close as she slowly made her way back to bed.

**

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” you asked, bending to avoid a branch full of golden and red leaves.

“I do,” Wilhemina answered. “I spent yesterday evening reading about mushrooms.”

You grinned at her.

“One of us had to make sure we won’t die intoxicated,” she said, a little coldly.

“That’s very noble of you,” you teased.

This was about a month after you two had first met. You now spent most of your spare time together. Wilhemina had even stopped doing extra hours at work to spend them with you instead. Your roommate barely saw you anymore. She had complained about your absence and asked whether she should look for someone else.

You had always craved a strong connection with someone, and it seemed you had finally found it. You didn’t need words to communicate with Wilhemina, as if your soul and her soul were made of the same stuff. You could point at a star in the night sky and knew she felt the same about it. Knew you were understood.  

You wanted to spend every second of every day with her.

Two nights ago, you had kissed her. You hadn’t expected it of yourself. It was too brave, too bold. That’s how you knew that you loved her.

She had frozen with her hand on your thigh, eyes wide open, breath caught in her throat, until suddenly something had changed and she had turned ravenous. She had kissed you back as if you were the ghost of a long-lost lover she was about to lose again, and the desperation she had poured into your mouth had made you fear that this was too much for one person to bear; too much need, too much anger, too much love required to fill the gaping, sucking black hole inside her. You had broken the kiss, panting, and almost run away. But the way she had held on to your wrist, the way she had looked at you, the feel of her on your lips – you had stayed.

None of you had mentioned the kiss since then. She seemed to be waiting for you to make the next move, and you weren’t sure you wanted to. Weren’t sure you were brave enough.

“Look here,” Wilhemina said, pointing at a small cluster of brown mushrooms half hidden under dead leaves.

You crouched down to examine them. “Yes,” you smiled, “these look like penny buns.”

You picked one for Wilhemina to look at.

“Butter, garlic and parsley,” you grinned, watching her as she inspected the mushroom, held delicately between two fingers. “One or two potatoes.”

Wilhemina hummed and cautiously put the mushroom in the basket she was holding.

You took the basket from her so you could hold her hand as you walked slowly down the path. Wilhemina glanced sideways at you, as if to make sure ill intent wasn’t shining in your eyes, before she pushed her palm against yours and laced her fingers with yours.

After a few minutes you stopped looking for mushrooms and gazed up at the beautiful leaves instead. The air was cold and crisp, and smelt of damp earth and decaying leaves. Every so often the sound of something falling – a dead branch, an acorn – reached your ears.

Wilhemina’s heart was drumming against your palm. Was it your touch, you wondered, that made it beat so fast?

She wasn’t looking at the ground either. She kept glancing at you. You knew this, because you kept glancing at her, too, and more than once you found her gaze already on your face. The first time your eyes met, you both blushed, and if Wilhemina quickly looked away, you found it impossible not to gaze at the dusting of pink on her cheeks.

“Look,” you breathed.

On your left between two oak trees was a small, round, dark pond. Its surface was half covered with leaves and you wouldn’t have noticed it at all if the wind hadn’t blown the branches above and sunlight hadn’t caught it. Wilhemina and you paused at the edge of it, hand in hand, to look at your reflections in the dark water.

“It looks like a fairy pond,” you whispered.

Wilhemina hummed her assent. You stroked your thumb over hers as you stared at her reflection, fully clothed, tall but with the edges trembling.  

“If we stay here long enough maybe we’ll see a doe.”

“You’d never have the patience,” Wilhemina teased.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I would if we had something to do to keep each other busy.”

Something, very close, fell from a tree.

It felt like dissolving into the golden light – like becoming part of something beautiful – when Wilhemina gently pressed her lips to yours. The basket stood between you two, so she hastily set it down on the ground before she captured your lips again, shyly, so very delicately it made you tremble. As if you were something precious. Something to be treasured.

It was this gentleness that made you kiss her back.

When you broke the kiss, Wilhemina squinted in the sunlight that fell through the branches and directly into her eyes. Dear you, she looked so scared. You wanted to push her, to make her fall so she would know you would always catch her. You wanted her to do the same to you.

You started walking again. You were both so focused on the other that you forgot the basket. You remembered it five minutes later. You found it funny; Wilhemina’s jaw tightened with anger. It had never happened to her before, she assured you. She didn’t forget things. The implication made her shiver.  

You walked back to the pond and found the basket on the moss where you had left it.

**

From where you were lying between her legs, you slipped your hand under her shirt to feel the warm softness of her tummy.

“Don’t you sometimes wish you didn’t have a body?” she asked.

You glanced up at her sleepily. She was reading your book, the one you had finished just a few days ago – you wondered if it was the same sentence that had caused her to stop.

You dropped a kiss on her hip. “I rather like having a body,” you answered. “And I love that you have one yourself. How would I kiss you otherwise?”

“Without a body, you wouldn’t need or want to kiss me.”

You considered, hand absentmindedly stroking her tummy.

“I don’t know,” Wilhemina went on. She was thumbing the book nervously, her eyes a little glazed. “It seems to me the body only brings its owner pain.”

“But I love your body,” you retorted.

“I am sick of it,” she said. “I am sick of the competition that comes with it. The pain, the probing, the examination.”

You watched her in silence. How could you tell her that some days when you woke up before dawn you would spend long minutes delighting in the sight of her body? And that you would press your lips on her skin to kiss, not who she was, but the body that you loved.

You took the book from her (you were starting to think that giving it to her in the first place hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. She had never told you the kind of surgeries she had undergone, the kind of names she had been called. You didn’t like the look on her face now) and put your arms around her waist. You pressed your cheek against her thigh and closed your eyes.

“I don’t like my body (she knew this already. You’d told her before). I think it’s too flat. And yet you find it beautiful. Maybe that’s mankind’s curse. Maybe that’s beauty’s curse. The beautiful doesn’t know it’s beautiful until someone comes along and tells it so.”

She started running her fingers through your hair, and you opened your eyes to find her gazing at you with a fond and thoughtful smile. She checked herself when your eyes met. Her face hardened a little.

“No need,” you smiled.

And then you were crawling up the bed, planting kisses on the strip of skin between her panties and her shirt, and then up her cleavage, smiling when she pushed her head back to give you better access to her neck. You twisted a strand of her hair around your finger – hair let down, only for you – and slid your other hand down to cup her center, determined to take her mind off the horrors she had read, or been reminded of.

You had made love before, but never entirely exposed, never entirely seen. Part of you loved it. Another part of you hated that you loved it. That part wanted you to stop being cowardly and to take the jump. To fall. Tear off the sheet, tear down the tower’s walls.

What terrified you the most was, there would be no going back, the day she would show you her back.

Your fingers started massaging her clit over her panties.

“How would you be able to feel me if you didn’t have a body?” you breathed, lips planting open-mouthed kisses up her neck.  

Wilhemina’s only answer was a small, breathy whimper. She lifted her hips to push against your hand.  

**

You followed the sound of her voice to her bedroom. She sounded afraid. You hurried.

“Y/N?”

“I’m right here,” you called, as your hand closed around the door handle. “Is today the day I’m going to,learn you’re terribly scared of spiders?” you joked, to try and curb the worry in you.

You pushed the door open, walked in and stopped as if suddenly turned into stone.

Wilhemina was standing with her back to you, facing the mirror on the wall. She was wearing the low-cut nightdress your roommate had dared her to try on all those months ago at the store. She was trembling.

You held her gaze in the mirror, unable to breathe, heart speeding up until all you could hear was its mad, terrified, elated gallop.

For a moment you stood completely still, not daring to look at her back, until the fear in Wilhemina’s eyes threatened to spill over, and you took a step forward.

Gently you gathered her hair in one hand and pushed it over her shoulder. Wilhemina’s gaze in the mirror glazed over, looked through you and at a place where she was safe and numb.

You took a deep breath. You watched.

A shiver ran through you as your gaze followed the diverted course of her spine, skin pulled taut over the bones. For a moment you watched with the awe-stricken eyes of one who is shown a terrible thing, terrible yet fascinating, for the watcher is safe from it. Then you swallowed, and forced your attention back on the importance of the moment.

You were still not breathing as you trailed your fingertips down her back to the black lace hugging her waist, and then back up again, lingering this time, stroking every scar.

Wilhemina’s breath hitched when you pressed your lips on her spine. Grazing her skin, planting a kiss. You rested your chin on her shoulder and waited for her to come back to you, pressing your front against her back to show her you were not disgusted, not disappointed, not running away.  

When her gaze turned clear enough for her to see you again, you offered her a tender smile, and stroked up and down her arms.

Wilhemina drew in air through her teeth. “This kind of nightdress wasn’t made for people like me,” she breathed out.

“Nonsense,” you cut her off. “You look beautiful.”

And dear you, she did, with her eyes barely guarded now and the lace barely hiding the swell of her breasts, nipples peaking under the delicate fabric. Your arms wrapped around her waist to pull her closer against you.

“Thank you,” you breathed into her hair.

She nodded, but didn’t speak. She was still trembling against you.

“How are you feeling?”

She let out a self-deprecatory laugh. “Like I don’t want to be here.” She took hold of one of your hands. Her eyes glossed over.

“Does it terrify you,” you breathed, trailing your lips down her neck, “to know that I have seen you and found you beautiful?” A pause. Your heart was beating too fast. “That I have seen you and decided to stay?”

In the silence that followed you heard your words echo all around you. You had expected each one of them to sow a grain of fear inside you. That wasn’t what happened. Instead each one of them pulled up a fear sprout that had already been sown inside you.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours in the mirror to share her surprise. For she was – okay? There had been no harsh landing? She let her body relax and she realized that, even though her mind was still very anxiously expecting danger, she wasn’t hurting. She was okay.

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss  @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode  @ka-s @lntlmate @talulahmae @mrsdeanhoward

[maximotts]

♡ 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘵. 𝘪𝘪 ♡ {𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵}

pt. i || pt. iii

a/n: ahaha remember when I said all would be fixed in this part? Turns out I lied. Part 2 was getting way too long and I didn't want this to feel rushed so part 3 will be the final part, but fret not, I'm finalizing part 3 as we speak because I didn't want to leave y'all at another painful cliffhanger. That'll be up right after this one before I go to bed tonight

warnings: angst, another semi-argument, Wanda reading Natasha's thoughts, a gallon of hurt feelings, panic attacks (Wanda)

summary: Natasha can't give Wanda space anymore after an Incident. aka the Secret Softy finally realizes she misses the Small Sunshine

words: 3.1k

masterlist. || navi. || request info/rules. :open

𝘮𝘰𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘬𝘢𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘬𝘢 = 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘰𝘺 = 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵

✣ ✣ ✣

It’d been three weeks. Three weeks since she’d seen Wanda, eaten any meals with her, watched her dark hair fall gently over her shoulders as she laughed, or felt her soft hands brush against her fingers for reassurance or in a silent request to be held. Safe to say, Natasha missed Wanda terribly. Even more so, the guilt from how deeply she’d hurt the person she cared about was eating her alive. She saw Wanda’s wounded face almost as frequently as she blinked and she longed to reach out and hug her until it was all better.

She had made attempts. The night of her blow up, Natasha knocked on Wanda’s door for a good five minutes. It was obvious she was in there, sitcom laughter emanating from her television. After a while it was clear she wasn’t ready to talk and Natasha understood; she wouldn’t want to talk to her either. She resigned herself to seeing Wanda at breakfast the next morning, hoping maybe a friendly smile from across the room would let the girl know she wasn’t mad at her. But Wanda was nowhere to be found. Two days of missed meals later and having tripped over a dirty sandwich plate in front of Wanda’s room and Natasha realized she was purposely avoiding even the possibility of having to sit next to the redhead when she ate. Again, Natasha couldn’t blame her.

Now three weeks in, Natasha settled on just walking in. Wanda rarely kept her door locked when she was inside, she and Natasha were the only ones with permanent rooms on the female residence side and there was never an issue with Nat coming in unannounced- until now of course. An hour’s worth of hyping herself up behind her, she took the ten steps next door to where she’d hopefully be able to fix her awful mess. Still she hovered outside, hand outstretched, hovering as she took one last deep breath.

Her hand never reached the doorknob.

Before Natasha could make contact with the metal, a hot spark of red zapped her hand and she jumped back to avoid further attack. “Wa-”

“Don’t even think about it, Natasha Romanoff.” The first time she heard that voice again, she didn’t expect it to sound so dangerous. Natasha expected anger, but she didn’t know Wanda could sound so threatening.

She’d be a fool to try the knob again, it’d only upset her further. Nevertheless, it was important she at least got part of her message out. “I know you’re upset, Wanda. I’m upset with myself too. I was wrong, so wrong. I never should have hurt you like I did, I should have just talked to you. That’s on me. I want to prove to you I’m sorry, maybe even earn your trust back eventually? Whenever you’re ready.” Natasha sighed, twisting her still tingling hand in the other. “I miss you, but I ruined us. Not you. I’m sorry, Wanda.”

Unbeknownst to Natasha, Wanda had wandered closer to the door as soon as she noticed the other pacing outside of her doorway. She wasn’t ready to talk to her; she couldn’t find a way to face her yet without fear of looking like she was coming crawling back without having heard an apology, but before she could think too hard on it, Natasha was speaking. Her heart grew heavy with the weight of Natasha’s words. She wasn’t one for feelings or true emotions and although fairly clumsily uttered, Wanda knew sincerity when she heard it. Swayed as her heart was to run into the arms of the woman she missed for the past week, her brain instantly reminded her of other words.

You still want her after she told you how clingy you are? She’s right. You are pathetic.

The ache was back, stinging just as sharp as the day she’d first heard. She couldn’t yet.

Wanda’s back hit the wall, sinking to the floor with her knees huddled close to her chest. She knew Natasha had just been angry when she lashed out, that she wouldn’t typically be so public with her outbursts, much less direct them towards her, but there were some true feelings within those poison laced words and Wanda didn’t want to have that conversation yet.

“Well.. you know where to find me.” Wanda hated how sad Natasha sounded; she must’ve been tearing herself apart. She despised not being able to fix things. Soft footsteps told Wanda she was fully alone again and although that should have let her relax, she groaned with how empty she felt once more.

✣ ✣ ✣

Another week went by with no exchanged words and Natasha was beginning to give up hope. She’d ruined everything between them seemingly irreparably; asking any of her teammates yielded a non-committal response, none of them were spending tons of time with her either. She’d given up on knocking, having only met silence or words of warning. All she could do was wait.

For Wanda’s part, she felt like she was going to burst. Her skin felt like it was on fire, nervous energy sparking right under the surface. She’d closed herself off to everyone, opening herself up to Natasha was a mistake, it must have been. Her last words to her had been apologetic and kind, but the hurtful ones still lingered and she felt stuck. It was tearing her apart. Even more so, today’s training left her disoriented- earthquake simulation. As the fake ground shook under her and buildings fell, Wanda was spiraled back to childhood and more recently, Sokovia, and although she played it off as nothing with others, as soon as she was back in the safety of her room she fell apart.

Before she would seek out Natasha, whisper her worries against her skin from under the safety of a warm blanket. She couldn’t do that now, couldn’t ask such a thing from Natasha after what she said and after near radio silence for a month. Wanda huddled in her own bed, tired eyes staring longingly at the wall separating her and Natasha’s room. The person she wanted -needed- was so close, but so far. “You’re fine. You’ve dealt with this alone before.”

✣ ✣ ✣

Natasha couldn’t sleep. Not for lack of exhaustion; she’d been training longer these days in hopes of catching more glimpses of Wanda, just to make sure she looked okay. It was working and thankfully from what she could see, Wanda was alright. The past few days were different though; she looked more tired, dragging along more and more, and now today she’d survived the earthquake simulator. To anyone else, Wanda looked like her normal self, quiet and to herself, but Natasha saw the girl’s hands shake, watched her stance go slack in a way she’d warned Wanda against many times. Afterwards, Wanda was off to her usual seclusion before Natasha could reach her from across the room so she settled for giving Bruce a stern talking to instead. He should’ve known better than to shove Wanda in that simulation, especially by herself.

She left a properly admonished Bruce, heading in the direction of Wanda’s room. Arguments be damned, she wouldn’t let Wanda explode alone, even if she hated her for intruding after. If her repeated self-reassurance weren’t enough to convince her by the time she reached her destination, the moans and whines from within set her mind. Natasha hovered again, weighing the consequences, but Wanda let out such a sob that she couldn’t ignore. “Wanda? Can I come in please?” Her hand landed safely on the door, an improvement from last time.

“It’s just me, I wanted to check on you after training.” No response, but no rejection either. She turned the knob, grateful Wanda seemed to have forgotten to lock the door. Whether it was a mistake or a silent hope for Natasha’s intervention, she didn’t know, but she would use the opportunity. She could barely find Wanda in the dark room, but her eyes settled on the small form in the middle of her large bed and Natasha was by her side in an instant.

“Wanda? Sweetheart, hey, it’s me. What’s wrong?” Her eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide with fear. Natasha longed to scoop her up, but she couldn’t startle her; she didn’t even know if she’d want her there once she realized who she was. Still, it hurt so deeply to have let her get this bad; she could’ve helped if Wanda trusted her enough to reach out. Natasha waited for what felt like hours until Wanda noticed her, crouching by a bed was rough on her tired knees, but she’d stay like that forever if need be. When Wanda finally made eye contact, she only stared at the redhead, as if figuring out whether the woman in front of her was real or not. She took a daring step, holding her hand out to Wanda, keeping it in her eyeline as long as she could until her palm reached her head. Her thumb moved, ever so softly, over her scalp as a test. Anything she could do to soothe her. “I’m here, Wands.”

If Natasha weren’t so strong, Wanda would’ve knocked her over. She’d thrown her full weight onto her in an instant, clinging to Natasha for dear life while her lower half still hung from the bed. There were so many things tearing at her, so much emotion she needed to unload, but she was too overwhelmed. Natasha had come to her. Had ignored their month of silence and hurt feelings to try to aid her and it left her stunned. “Tash- Natasha.. I-I’m so sorry..”

“Ah, no none of that,” Natasha stood with a grunt, taking Wanda with her to set them both on the bed. She navigated her way to the top of the bed in the dark, only stopping when her back hit the headboard, letting Wanda hold onto her, “This is my fault, I’m sorry. I should have been here for you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, burying herself as far into the crook of her neck as deep as she could. “No. I should’ve been able to handle training today. You were right, I can’t do anything myself. I’m weak and pathetic and..” Sobs took over any chance of coherent words, shaking against the warm body she’d missed so much. Part of her screamed to move away, to suck up her tears and prove to Natasha she was just fine on her own. But she couldn’t pretend. She was fine on her own, she could handle it, but she needed the comfort of someone she trusted too. Someone she could relay her thoughts too instead of bottling them all inside until they got the best of her.

Before she knew it, Natasha felt tears rolling down her cheeks as well. She hated crying, couldn’t stand being so outwardly vulnerable with someone else, but if Wanda could be with her then she owed her the same trust. Toned arms pulled the small woman trembling against her closer, pressing frantic kisses to the crown of her head, anything to show her apologies. “You’re not weak for your emotions, detka. It’s one of the strongest things you could do to allow yourself to open yourself up and trust me.. I should have given you that same trust and been honest from the start.” Natasha cradled Wanda’s head to her chest, rocking her as sweetly as she could. She knew she was holding her a fraction too tight, but she couldn’t help it. Reassuring fingers brushed through long brunette hair, keeping her as close as possible.

“Can you forgive me?” The muffled voice from below temporarily shook Natasha from her waterfall of revelations and she remembered why they were in this situation.

“Moya sladkaya detka, you were forgiven weeks ago. You were trying to help me and yes, we need to talk about how I deal with the aftermath of long missions because I do sometimes need time to myself, but nothing, nothing you did warranted how I hurt you.” Wanda froze and for a moment Natasha was scared she would pull away, but she nodded slowly. “Can you forgive me?”

That was a loaded question. Wanda fought to clear her thoughts, organize them in any way that could possibly make sense. She wanted so badly to simply accept and stay in Natasha’s arms. It wasn’t that she thought Natasha was lying to her; she truly believed she was sorry for what she did, but that didn’t mean those words didn’t still swirl through her head everyday since she’d first uttered them. It was hard to think so close to her. Wanda pried herself away from Natasha, not missing the way Natasha kept hold on her hips as if letting go meant she’d lose her forever. “I want to forgive you, Natasha.”

It hurt, but it was fair. She didn’t expect an easy apology and didn't deserve one either. “There’s a but coming, right?” Wanda couldn’t meet her eyes; she only avoided eye contact when she had more to say and was biding her time. “You don’t have to forgive me, Wanda. I’m willing to do whatever you need to make you feel safe again, no matter how long it takes.” And she meant it. Natasha would put in the work for Wanda, she was more than worth it.

She knew what she needed. It was the only way she could think of easing her mind. Still, Wanda promised she wouldn’t do it again unless she had to, but… she had to. “I need to feel you.” A hesitant ring-clad hand reached out, tapping Natasha’s temple to finish the thought she couldn’t speak. “Nothing traumatic, nothing too deeply buried.. hopefully, at least.” Rarely was it hard for Wanda to search out thoughts in someone about a particular person who crossed their mind regularly. She hoped it was more than wishful thinking that Natasha had her in her thoughts with some frequency. “Please, Tash… I need to know you feel more for me than just ‘clingy, weak puppy.’”

Natasha opened her mouth to retort, to try to take her harsh words back, but she knew it wouldn’t help. The thought of Wanda searching through her mind again scared her still. Last time left her shaken for weeks, months, after what she’d dug up, but back then Wanda was looking to hurt her and damn, she was great at it. She had to trust she wouldn’t do that now. Trust was so hard. A promise was a promise, though. Natasha took Wanda’s free hand in both of hers, a lifeline to hold while she gave herself to the woman she cared so much for. “Okay.. be gentle?”

Wanda let out a chuckle; Natasha’s sensitive side was so very cute. “I would never be anything but, dorogoy.” Natasha nodded, swallowing her fears with reassurance. Wanda was only ever kind to her, too much at times; Steve and Sam never missed an opportunity to poke fun at Natasha when in the early days Wanda was practically exploding with nerves around the redhead. Eventually they figured out it was less that Wanda thought Natasha was going to beat the pulp out of her and more that she wished the older woman would crush her with her thighs- but the two men waited for Natasha to figure that one out on her own.

“Go ahead, Wands. Just be quick about it, alright? I don’t want to spill all my secrets right now.” Wanda agreed with a quiet hum, shaking her head and straightening her spine before moving her fingers alongside Natasha’s head. It reminded her of the first time they’d officially met; a bittersweet memory of how stunning she felt her then enemy was, but bringing her trauma to the surface before those steadfast blue eyes caught sight of her. Now though, Wanda was careful. Only going deep enough to look at Natasha’s memories and thoughts about her. How surprised she was that Wanda was as powerful as she was. Her instant and ongoing distrust of her when she and her brother came to aid the Avengers in Sokovia. Natasha’s annoyance at her stolen red jacket, with an added and apparently shocking sense of possessiveness brought on by seeing her in her clothing. Interesting. Wanda would note that little fact for the future.

Red ringed eyes shone in the darkness, both locked onto Natasha’s and staring far past her. She wanted to be open and honest, that was the whole point. Consequently Wanda let Natasha see what she was seeing and with every twinge of irritation her past self felt towards Wanda and her initial attempts to gain trust with her new team, specifically with herself, her current self cringed at her behavior. But slowly things shifted. Resentment shifted to reluctant endearment, then care and protection and finally into where she longed for Wanda’s calming presence when she was stressed or wanted a confidant. The weight of vulnerability felt like being flayed alive and despite the hand Natasha held using one finger to stroke reassuringly at her palm, she squirmed as they approached that night Natasha came home a month ago.

“You’re fighting me.” The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed, pushing harder at the memory Natasha was keeping away from her. “Stop it.”

Red curls shook as Natasha hung her head; she didn’t want to live through it again. Every night it haunted her. She should’ve just talked to her, given her credit for being one of the most understanding people she’s ever met, having her see it again would just push Wanda further away- “I can still hear your thoughts, Natasha.” Her racing concerns rang loud in Wanda’s own brain, blocking out any hope of unlocking that dreaded outburst until she could get her to calm down. “Trust me, please. You have to let me in.” True, Wanda could forcibly rip the memory from her with ease. It would take such little effort, but she wouldn’t- couldn’t. She needed Natasha to let her see, allow herself to be this forthcoming with Wanda. That would speak louder than anything.

It took everything in Natasha to take her next breath, “Okay, do it.” Wanda breathed a sigh of relief, Natasha’s agreement giving her hope of progress. She slipped her hand from Natasha’s warm grasp, ignoring the small sad noise she was sure Natasha didn’t want to talk about. Instead her hand went to the back of Natasha’s head and brought it forward to rest on her shoulder, her nose promptly burying itself in the crook of Wanda’s neck. Her gentle floral scent settled Natasha’s worries; it’d been too long since she was allowed so close. “I trust you.”

[bokoutoe-retired]

— #43 “i love you to the moon and back” & #44 “you’re stealing the blankets”

characters; gojo satoru, gn! reader, ft. itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, nobara kugisaki

synopsis; working at jujutsu tech comes with it’s risks, but with your husband at your side you think everything will turn out just fine

total w/c; 1475

warnings; canon-typical violence, blood, major injury, hospitals, iv’s, uhhh, non-canon timeline ig? i haven’t read the manga so i apologize for any inaccuracies about how curses and jujutsu sorcery works

「a/n」 thank you to @construct-witchlyght for requesting!! i’m so sorry it took so long but i actually really had fun writing this and i feel good about it! hope you enjoy it <3

being a counselor at jujutsu tech never really meant just being a counselor. sometimes it means being a teacher and instructing a couple classes, other times it means getting called out for exorcisms. despite your job title, it’s shockingly rare you get the chance to actually, you know, be a counselor.

and this was certainly not one of those times. the grade 2 curse you, itadori, fushiguro, and kugisaki are currently dealing with is not relenting. whatsoever. it’s attacks are quick, fast, and calculated. the four of you have done a good job avoiding them so far, but you're not sure how much longer you can keep it up. both you and itadori are hustling to land your blows, slowly chipping away at the almost overwhelming defenses of the curse. nearby fushiguro’s shikigami are working in rhythm with the flying nails of kugisaki’s hammer to take out the weird army of cursed goonies the grade 2 has. they’re not powerful by any means but their numbers add up. the two first years are doing a good job of dwindling their forces

the fight drags on and on, hit after hit, and dodge after dodge, it’s tiresome but necessary. by some miracle, there’s a glimpse of the end as yuuji lands a hearty punch on one of the chins of the curses many mouths. as it makes contact it’s accompanied by a loud, resounding clap, the cursed energy packed behind the hit leaves the air of the abandoned warehouse buzzing. the powerful attack brings the curse down to its last legs, yet it’s still angry, and determined to take you all out. you glance over to check on the other pair, and see they’re exorcising the final lackey. 

‘good, they’re safe now’ you think, but you’re allowed only a mere moment of relief before your attention is directed back to itadori and the grade 2. itadori is still stumbling from the blowback of his own power as the curse lets out a booming roar and you see it gear up for an attack with the sharp claws on one of its four arms. he’s stumbling right into the claws’ path and doesn’t have nearly enough time to completely dodge. panic boils over  in your chest and you feel your body move before you think about it, out of pure instinct to protect your kids. the long arm of the curse swings down and you rush towards the pink haired first year, shoving him out from underneath the approaching claws. hot, searing pain rips down from your shoulder and through your chest. your vision immediately turns spotty but you can see itadori tumble a few feet away from the force of your push. you must’ve screamed without realizing it because immediately all three students are calling out your name and rushing to finish the curse off.

you register that somewhere near you the curse bursts into smoke and spare puffs of cursed energy. it’s finally exorcised, but you're too focused on the feeling of warm, sticky blood seeping from your wound and the bitter taste of copper in your mouth to take note of who officially finished it off. the energy from the curse tapers off into nothing but residuals and suddenly three sets of footsteps are rushing towards you.

“y/n-san!” itadori is the first to reach you, calling out and falling to his knees at your side. “why would you do that?!” his words are frantic but his actions are gentle as he moves your head to rest on his knees. you can almost see the tears welling in his eyes from, in your opinion, misplaced guilt. he looks around searching for help of the other first years. behind him nobaras foot taps incessantly against the cold stone floor. she’s hurriedly dialing someone on her cellphone, presumably ijichi and fushiguro is tearing off his jacket. he does much better job of hiding his worry, but if your eyes were a little more focused you’d be able to see the slight shake to his movements as he bundles the fabric and presses it to your wound. you little out a little grunt of pain, the coarse texture agitates it but does a good enough staunching the steady trickle of blood. despite their lack of experience, it’s not hard for them to recognize this is bad. nobara finishes her call, before pocketing her phone and joining the boys on the ground next to you. she takes the edge of her sleeve, wiping off the small bit of blood dribbling from you mouth. you weakly attempt to swat her hand off, the last thing you wanted was to worry your kids or have them fuss over you.

“‘toru would kick my ass if i had let one of you kids get hurt” your words are slightly slurred but you speak with a little chuckle, referring to your husband while trying to make light of the situation. you even reach up to pat yuujis cheek reassuringly a couple times.

“well now gojo-sensei is gonna kick my ass for letting you get hurt!” he looks like he’s about to continue but the sound of screeching car tires interrupt him.

“ijichis here, lets get her up. y/n-” you can hear megumi talking, but your consciousness is slipping and you can’t decipher exactly what he said. you feel three pairs of hands start to lift you off the ground, the blood making it a little more difficult. as you look up the dots clouding your vision get bigger and bigger, the last thing you see is the crease of nobaras brows as she yells out to someone.

when you wake up, you feel your situation before you see it. the first, and maybe most important thing you feel, is the presence of your husband cuddled into your side. you feel his hair tickling your neck, his body pressed against your uninjured side and his fingers intertwined with yours. just knowing he’s there is enough to instantly put you at ease. your eyes finish adjusting to the bright morning light streaming in from the window and satoru shifts in his sleep, unawarely tugging the thin hospital blanket from your body. 

“you’re stealing the blankets,” you whisper to him as you squeeze his hand in yours, but your voice comes out a little more strained than you had expected. even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s woken up as he lets out a little hum and adjusts himself on the small hospital bed. with the both of you it’s a tight fit, but you make it work. he’s careful not to jostle you as he sits up and gently brings you to lay on his side instead of him on yours. he’s mindful of your ivs and monitors, all while keeping your hand in his and making sure to drape the blanket back over you.

“rough night?” he asks, the hand of the arm wrapped around you comes to lightly brush over the bandages wrapped snug around your torso. the pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was before you blacked out. whatever meds they’d given you had turned the sharp stinging into a dull ache. but if you were being honest your whole body ached. a long, strenuous battle on top of a deep wound would do that to a person.

“rough night.” you confirm with a little chuckle, relaxing even further into his hold. the room is silent for a moment as he catches your eyes searching the empty room for something that’s not there. he presses a kiss to your temple, bringing your attention back to him.

“they went back to the school,” he states, already knowing that you were looking for the trio of first years, “and before you ask, they’re fine. all three made it out with nothing more than a couple scratches.”

“good, thats good,” you respond while smiling up at him. if those three were okay, any pain, wound, or hospital visit would be utterly worth it.

“i’m lucky i get to say the same for you, my love. itadori told me what you did” he lifts up his blindfold and gives you a look that resembles that of one he would give a student while scolding them. but behind it, you can see the deep amount of worry held in his bright eyes.

“i did what i had to, they're just kids” you shrug as best as yougiven your condition.

“i know, i know. very admirable of you,” he jokes a little before his tone turns serious “but please, don’t scare me like that ever again. you mean the world to me and i don’t know what i’d do without you. i love you to the moon and back, my dear y/n”

“i love you too satoru, to the moon and back”

[wonlouvre]

pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 3.2k WARNINGS: ANGST, VIOLENCE, GUNS

a/n: we are nearing the end guys :( and i promise, it’s a HAPPY ENDING! but for now we have to face the angst, i’m so sorry. disclaimer!! as i have said from the previous parts, i am not well-versed with investigations and court procedures. PLEASE CORRECT ME IF I’M WRONG. thank you very much!! please enjoy this new part and hit my ask box with what you think of it <3

nine: grief | masterlist

Wonwoo has had difficult times in his life and he has managed to overcome them all. Growing up in the public eye, fulfilling duties decreed to him even before he became a teen, a break-up, excelling both academically and physically and most of all, loving himself for who he is. He knows his parents did everything in their power and love to make it a little easier for him. They are the reasons he kept going and going. 

But his heart can’t seem to carry this overwhelming heaviness. 

His parents wanted to end the engagement immediately. It was an argument, an angry one. His mother had her ears closed even before he could speak meanwhile his father’s closed lips already said it all. Of course, he was defensive. He understands his parents concern for their citizens, but nothing is final until a verdict is reached. He has to come back to Jung and Sam and he has to come back to you. Surely enough, when he stepped out of the doors of his home, he had chosen love over duty. 

It’s just that he didn’t know that you had different plans. 

“Where’s the pretty lady?” Sam asks out of the blue while he plays with the new toys Wonwoo brought for the kids at the welfare.

He has been visiting them frequently, at least four times a week in between his hospital schedule. Especially after you decided that he should distance himself from you, he has been in and out of here because the boys are one of the only reasons he’s here other than you. He’s hoping you only meant a break if that’s what you wanted. Because he’d give it to you with as much distance as you want just come back to him. Come back to him because he doesn’t and can’t let you go. 

“She’s a bit busy now,” he tries to make up an excuse and Sam raises his sparkling eyes at his face, probably searching for some truth in his lie. 

“You look different when she’s around,” the young boy says and goes back to his toys. 

Wonwoo’s ears perk and his brows knit in question. “What do you mean?”

“Jung thinks I don’t see it, but his face,” Sam explains and gestures to his tiny yet swelling cheeks. “It changes because of this girl here that I think he’s crushing.”

Wonwoo can’t help the growing smile on his face. “Jung has a crush?”

“Yes.” Sam bobs his head cutely. “You’re just like Jung with the pretty lady around.”

“How about now?” He asks the observant boy who purses his tiny lips before narrowing his eyes at him. 

“You look a little sad.”

Wonwoo didn’t need to ask who’s the pretty lady Sam was talking about because to him, you’re the only pretty lady in his life (second to his mother of course even though she’s angry at him at the moment). He tried to not make it obvious. He doesn’t want anyone to see him that the controversy and your father’s arrest is breaking the two of you apart. He can’t let them see him falling apart for that matter because he wants you to see him confident and strong. 

He doesn’t want to further fuel your doubts and fears. If he can’t support you closely, he’ll do his best to support you even from afar.

That’s why life for him continued. He goes to work, attends to his patients and co-workers needs, he eats, he exercises and he even entertains drinking with Soonyoung despite having to take care of him because of how fast he gets drunk. 

It’s an ineffective distraction because he misses you terribly. He misses going to your office just to take you away from your computer, he misses driving around town with you in the passenger seat and listening to your stories, he misses sleeping over at your apartment after a tiring day shift, he misses your warm and welcoming embrace, he misses your shy and soft kisses against his lips, cheeks, nose, forehead, neck and everywhere else.  

Did he tell you he misses you?

He sends you messages every day. He doesn’t call and he doesn’t wait for a reply. He just wants you to know that he’s here whenever you’re ready. Jeongyeon is kind enough to keep him in the loop, but the updates are very minimal because she’s still your subject and she doesn’t want to hurt you any further. 

For a moment, Wonwoo was afraid to take the leap. But when you asked him if he still wants to marry you which could be equivalent to you ending things, he had to. If you stay or not, he had to say it with all his heart. You had to know because he was sure that whatever it is his whole being is feeling, it’s only for you. 

“I love you.”

Your heart drops at his confession, making you sob to the palm of your hands. He can’t do this to you right now. It’s already hard and painful. You want to be selfish, but it would be wrong to let him suffer with you when he has been nothing but kind and honest. 

“You’re not your father, Y/N,” he promises and holds your hands down. “Please look at me.”

You shake your head, sniffling. You want to scream you love him too. But the words are nothing but a lump at the back of your throat. You continue shedding your tears and the sight breaks Wonwoo’s heart. 

“It’s okay.” He lifts your head up by your cheeks. He wipes your tears away even though it’s futile. He wishes to share with your anguish, but he also respects the desires of your heart. 

His smile was small when he leans down and briefly presses a kiss to your trembling lips. You accept it, fearing it might be the last. You also listen to his last words before he leaves with his bag and coat because it also might be the last time you’ll ever hear them.

“I love you.”

The rain patters on the roof of the car when Wonwoo’s words echoed inside your head. Just the thought of what had transpired the last few days brings tears to your eyes. You haven’t seen him since that night and the longing is unbearable. You wish to hear his voice, feel his touch against you or just see him. But you can’t and you have to persevere through it because you owe justice and accountability to your people.   

You haven’t spoken to your mother even if you tried. She’s just tired, so tired you can’t bring a word out of her. You try to be understanding and a little more patient. After all, getting over a betrayal doesn’t happen overnight. That’s why you continued working even though almost every client you have has backed down and declined your services. Nonetheless, you still go to your office every day as if everything is okay. You drink your coffee, you run over your files and even do a little organizing and disposing here and there. 

Your father’s first trial is today and you’re on your way to speak to him at his detention center. This is the first time you’ll see him aside from the television and newspapers. You’ve been crying ever since he got taken away. You can’t help it. You already know the truth and there’s no blinding away from it. But you want to hear from your father, whom you thought you have known all your life. You want his truth and maybe find some closure. 

When you arrive at the parking lot, the rain has ceased and little by little the temperature is rising again. You really wish things were different. Something in you wishes that this is a set-up. You wish that your father was innocent and only being framed. But there is a bigger something that’s telling you to throw away those wishful thoughts because it’s wrong. 

You ask yourself, am I angry at my father? while walking to the entrance leading to the visitor’s area. I should be, right? You argue because your family name and career is tarnished. Your upcoming marriage is no different which is most likely to be over. 

“Hi my darling,” The King, stripped from his expensive suit, greets you with his usual smile.

The glass between you and your father is clear enough to see that he doesn’t look good. Your father used to look every day ready with his suit on and slick back hair. But right now, he doesn’t. Tears well up in your eyes but you hold it in. It will take a long time to get used to seeing him like this. It will take a painfully long one.

Maybe you’re not angry. Maybe you’re just hurting.

“Hi dad,” you greet back. “How are you?”

The old man smiles and warms his thighs with his hands while looking around the small room. “I’m okay.”

You nod and the cold silence engulfs the room. 

“I’m sorry darling,” he finally says and hearing those words made you burst into tears. He sees you crying and this is the first time he can’t reach his hand out to wipe the tears away. “I’m really sorry that your father’s greed has left you and your mother a wound that might never heal.”

Greed. The news, the Royal Police, the prosecution and everyone else were talking about this. They’re still talking about this. It’s scandalous, it’s controversial. It’s unbelievable too. How could the head and protector of the kingdom do this? 

How could your father do this?

“Dad,” you sob. “Dad.”

“I know,” he tells you. “I know.”

“Please tell me they’re lying,” you begged, your voice shaking.

“I cannot betray you any further, my darling,” he sadly says. “I have to set you all free from my lies.”

You harshly rub your fingers against your eyes, trying to dry the tears that won’t stop from falling. “Who’s Kim Mingyu?”

The alarming buzz! blasts, indicating that your time’s up. You’re quick to your feet and hold your sweating palm against the glass. Your father mirrors your action but it didn’t last long because he was being handcuffed again. 

“Remember,” he says, struggling a little against the two uniformed men. “You are your own person, my darling.” 

Maybe you’re not hurting. Maybe you’re grieving because you just lost your father. 

You know who Kim Mingyu is. You already knew before you could even ask your father. You just wanted to know how your father met him and entangled himself with such a man. What led him to fall for his lies and money that he could trade every ounce of dignity and integrity in his being? Something of that sort. 

Kim Mingyu’s mining business was proposed to the Secretary of the Trade and Industry Department. A mining business that will have children go underground for long agonizing hours. At first, they were immediately rejected knowing that there’s an obvious and strict law disallowing foreigners to the kingdom’s mineral resources. Much more the exploitation of young children. But, Mingyu was ambitious and a sniper to every man's weakness. It didn’t take long for the Secretary of the Trade and Industry to bite. It was easily followed by the Secretary of the Justice Department and your father. They all, among many others, eventually fell for his trap. Everything worked out for Kim Mingyu. 

Your hip is against the hood of the car as you watched the prison guards surround the vehicle your father will ride to the court. Everyone is on high alert. Well, they should be. No one else is more high profile than a criminal king. It’s only the first trial but you’re already more than aware of how things will turn out in the end. 

You clutch the lifebuoy pendant of the necklace you’re wearing, nervous and trying to keep everything together.

You could leave now, but the time and opportunity to see your father is running out. This prison is the only place you could linger just to see him, even for a short while. You won’t be able to follow him at court because Seungkwan advised you not to. Which you understand. This whole case involving your father is already causing a media frenzy so staying away is the smart thing to do. 

As you wait, your phone suddenly rings with an unknown number flashed on the screen. You blink, wondering who could it be at this hour. After a beat of hesitation, you answered and held the phone against your ear. 

“Hello?”

“Ah, Princess Y/N. How’s the King doing?”

You’re not that forgetful to not recognize this voice. “Mr. Kim, how did you get my number?”

“That’s not important right now,” he dodges the question. “What’s important is what I am about to tell you.”

“What do you want from me?” You say with gritted teeth and from your peripheral you can see the guards scramble. Your father is about to come out.

You can hear him scoff. “I don’t want anything from you, Your Highness. But listen…”

Your heart starts to beat faster. It’s a hard visual but your father is nearing the exit. Your bottom lip is starting to hurt from how hard you’re biting it and the few seconds of pause and suspense that Mingyu’s giving you is not helping at all. 

“Listen you sick---” He cuts you off and your blood runs cold.

“I’m going to kill your father.”

What is the fondest memory that you have of your father? 

They’re too many to count and every memory with him, small and big, will always mean everything to you. But as an example, it would be the day you finally took oath as a lawyer. He didn’t tell you, but he, together with your mother, was secretly present at the venue. He told you beforehand that they shouldn’t go because he didn’t want the people to make you uncomfortable and steal the spotlight. You ignored his lame excuse of fame and told him that he can do whatever he wants. 

But he was really there. Tears brimming on his eyes together with pride beaming on his heart. Your mother had to calm him down because he got a little out of control, almost screaming with all his chest at the venue that you’re his daughter. 

You only found out when you hopped on the car and they’re inside with a small cake, flowers and party hats on, shouting loud congratulations and surprise simultaneously. 

Your father was always there. Your parents were. 

You remember those when you ran and pushed your way against the guards blocking your father’s view. You were frantic as you screamed at them to get your father back inside. You fought with all your strength and thrashed against their hold just to reach your father. When you slipped away from them, you ran again, fast. 

You did your best to not get caught. You just have to be close to your dad and push him back inside. You just have to be close to him. You just have to protect him.

You have to be there for him. 

“Please stop!” You shout when another guard takes hold of your waist, locking you to the ground. “You have to bring my father back inside!”

“You’re Highness, please calm down!” The guard shouts back and you fight against him. When he didn’t let you go, you stomped the heel of your shoe on his feet, making him fall in pain. 

“Dad!” You call when you’re finally nearing him. His head lifts up at the sound of your voice and searches for you among the sea of men. “Please! You have to take him back inside! I received a call from Kim Ming---”

BANG!

BANG! 

It was searingly fast. Your whole body collapses on the sweltering concrete before you could reach your father and when his eyes finally find you, you are already swimming in the pool of your blood.  

“It’s always good to see you Mrs. Wang,” Wonwoo compliments the old lady who’s starting to frequent the emergency room. “But not in this manner.”

The old lady gives him a cheeky grin and pinches one of his cheeks. If Wonwoo doesn’t know any better, she’s doing this to not get scolded any further. 

“Your blood sugar is high and I don’t think your granddaughter appreciates her grandma endangering her own life,” he lightly scolds her, if that’s how he can put it. He’s still a doctor after all. “She loves you and she wants you to be healthy when she walks down the aisle in the future.”

Mrs. Wang gives him a silent nod at the mention of her granddaughter, promising that she won’t disobey anymore. That relieves Wonwoo, his lips lifting in a smile. He signs her clearance and hands it back to the nurse. After a few more instructions, he takes his leave and walks back to the information desk. 

He takes one of the patients charts to read. The phone rings and the nurse in charge immediately picks it up and answers. At first, Wonwoo didn’t bother looking up from the paper because emergency calls happen every three seconds. But when there was an eerie silence amidst the loud and busy room, his curiosity made his head tilt up only to get surprised at the widened eyes the nurse was giving him. 

He was about to ask what’s wrong but when he heard the sound of the siren nearing, he ignores his suspicions and runs to the entrance. 

The ambulance parks at a safe distance and the paramedics get out. They move quickly to get the patient out and when they see him, their mouth falls open but no words come out.

Wonwoo didn’t notice so he proceeded to ask, “How’s the patient?”

“Wonwoo!”

Soonyoung almost tripped on his feet as he tried to get a hold of his friend. He takes his arms and tries to pull him away from the ambulance he’s about to open. Wonwoo is starting to get irritated at the bizarre and disconcerting feeling that’s starting to settle in the emergency room.

Wonwoo knocks him off with a glare. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Wonwoo, please,” Soonyoung begs with an unsteady voice, clinging to his friend. 

“Female, late twenties, two gunshot wounds,” one of the paramedics finally yet carefully reports while the other opens the doors of the ambulance. “It’s Her Highness, Princess Y/N.”

Wonwoo roughly removes his friends hand from his arm to step closer to the ambulance and when he sees your lifeless body, he didn’t waste any more time and helped the paramedics move the stretcher out. Soonyoung can see his friend’s hands shaking as he takes hold of the bloodied gurney. He knows he has to stop him right now. 

“Baby,” Wonwoo calls as he runs and wheels you inside. You can’t hear him, but he has to try. He observes proper protocol of transferring you to the bed of the emergency room before applying more pressure to your wounds. You have lost a lot of blood already and it’s not helping Wonwoo that he can’t see your eyes.

“Please, please, please,” Wonwoo whispers as he removes all the obstructions on your body and when his eyes catch the necklace he gave around your neck, his legs grow weak and removing it from you made his tears fall.

“Baby, please,” he pleads. “Open your eyes, hmm?”

Soonyoung steps in together with the doctor who will perform the surgery and take everything from here. He slowly pulls his friend away from your body. Wonwoo didn’t protest anymore, there’s nothing in him left to do so. Your blood is in his hands, in his white coat, it’s everywhere. 

This is not the distance Wonwoo wanted. 

He can’t be apart from you forever.

[spacestationdaedalus]

when my demons won’t let me be

or: not in his right state of mind, Jon accidentally compels Martin. It’s not okay, but it’s okay.

or or: i spend so much time reading sick fic and i finally wrote one of my own angst and plenty of hurt/comfort, warnings for canon-typical compulsion and descriptions of panic and disassociation

Martin wakes to a shifting of weight and a cut off breath. It's a hazy half-awareness, coming to him under a snowdrift, on a radio station drowning in dull static.

In a well-practiced motion, Martin extends an arm over the covers to rest on Jon's chest. He doesn't let the full weight fall, not yet. Enough for Jon to know he's there, a touch light enough that Jon can readily push away or lean into. It depends on the particular brand of nightmare, the terror that's chosen to follow him to sleep. Sometimes he sets Martin's arm aside with a gentle squeeze, sitting up against the headboard and taking comfort in the cool bedroom air and the sound of Martin's breathing. At least, in Jon's own words. Other times, he holds Martin's arm to his chest, taking comfort in the weight and warmth of it.

Neither of those things happen, though.

Jon rolls sharply, seemingly ignoring Martin's arm in favor of the other side of the bed. He curls around himself with a low whine, harshly cut off in the back of his throat.

"J'n?" Martin props himself up on one arm. Voice rough with sleep, but no less concerned.

Jon shifts, a back and forth movement that looks like it could be the shaking of his head. His shoulders are taut and trembling. He makes another sound that could be the beginning of a shout, and it brings Martin to full awareness. He moves his hands to Jon's shoulder before he has time to think, desperate to help, to comfort, to something.

"Jon, it's alright-"

“Don’t touch me!” Jon bursts out, dripping and full of static and oh oh oh. It cascades over Martin’s mind, oily and slick. His hands pull away like they've been burned, but numb and far off. As though belonging to a stranger.

He shifts away from Jon and off of the bed, limbs moving robotically to pull back the covers, to move him away until his back meets the bedroom wall. Martin's hands are raised halfway, frozen in a caricature of comfort. A puppet on strings. He wants to move, shout, anything. But the gaze of eyes he can’t see bears down on him, an insurmountable weight holding him in place. Like a butterfly pinned inside a glass display case.

Jon is sitting up, now. Eyes (eyes, eyes, he's all eyes) blown wide, bright and glassy even in the low light of the room. His breathing is ragged and uneven in obvious panic. Even with his hands clenched tight in the front of his nightshirt, Martin can see they’re trembling. Martin’s heart aches and he wants to help but he can’t move and Jon’s eyes are still on him and he can’t breathe and it hurts. And he's afraid. He can hear his pulse pounding in his ears, the eyes are still watching him and it feels so much like burning paper and righteous anger and Elias's face and everything Martin had been trying to forget.

Jon brings up a hand to cover his mouth. Horror and panic clear in his eyes, which Martin knows are reflected in his own. Then Jon backs away, clearly unsteady on shaking legs. Martin's vision starts to blur (when was the last time he blinked?) but he hears Jon's steps fade into the hall. And Martin can do nothing.

The back of Martin's mind still using logic was hoping the feeling would fade once Jon wasn't looking at him. Unfortunately, Martin is used to being proven wrong. Face blank, body rigid, mind screaming.

Autonomy comes back to him slowly, a tingling in his fingertips that trickles down his arms and leaves an awful shakiness in its wake. Nerves making up for lost time, maybe. Trying to catch up with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. A grip Martin wasn't aware of begins to loosen from around his ribcage, and his first real breath in ages is a shuddering gasp. The force of it combined with the jelly replacing his knees sends him sliding to the floor, using the wall for support.

Martin breathes. In. Out. The first breath is molten in his lungs. His eyes water against it, and the second one is even worse. The third leaves as a sob that echoes back at him. In one last betrayal of his body against him, the tears spill over to drip down his cheeks. Martin rests his forehead against his knees and wills himself not to fall apart.

The Lonely was easy, in that regard. For months, Martin didn't have to worry about this kind of thing - the fear and anger and gaping misery that had been following them for so long. But evidently suppressing your trauma with more trauma wasn't a healthy coping mechanism. Go figure.

Leaving the Lonely was hard. Martin had spent most of the first 48 hours oscillating wildly between numb detachment and emotion so overwhelming he thought he would drown in it. Jon helped. He was patient, gentle, all the things Martin thought were too good to be true.

Martin forces himself up as soon as he's able. Maybe sooner, given the way the room sways when he stands. But it passes after a moment, and Martin goes to find Jon.

The house is dark. The occasional creak from the pipes and floors could be off-putting, but compared to everything else, it's benign. He uses fingers brushed against the wall to guide him down the short hallway.

"Jon?" He calls. The floor creaks in response.

Martin reaches the threshold between the hall and the kitchen. The haze of the moon behind thin clouds bleeds through the window above the sink, providing just enough light to see. Martin catches a shadow out of the corner of his eye, but it isn't actually a shadow, and Martin lets himself feel a hint of temporary relief.

Jon is tucked in the corner between two cabinets. Head buried against his bent knees, hands gripping into his hair in a position that mirrors Martin's from mere moments ago. Martin's heart leaps into his throat.

"Oh, Jon." Martin kneels in front of him, slow as to not startle him. If Jon notices, he makes no sign of it.

"Jon?" Martin reaches, but stops halfway. He doesn't want a repeat of before. His palm itches, but he keeps it airborne. Until he knows it's okay.

Jon makes a sound in the back of his throat, one that Martin hasn't heard before. His next inhale is strained and wet and - oh. 

Martin had never seen Jon cry before. Angry, upset, shaken, sure. But not this. It twists something awful and thorny in his chest. Martin wants to hug him, but he keeps the few inches between them.

"Don't-" Jon starts suddenly, and for an awful moment the hairs on the back of Martin's neck stand up on end. But Jon cuts himself off with a keening noise, and curls further into himself. His shoulders are trembling, either from holding back sobs or the biting chill of the poorly-insulated kitchen floor, Martin can't be sure. Probably both.

"I-I'm sorry-" Jon stutters, sounding like each word is a fight to get out. "I-I-I don't - I don't know…"

"Just breathe, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head against his legs. "N-no, you need to-" A sob cuts him off.

"Need to what, love?" The term of endearment slips out naturally on Martin's tongue. If Jon notices, he doesn't say so.

"Leave." The last word crackles slightly in the air, like static electricity threatening a shock. Martin freezes. The compulsion threatens to overtake him, but it's weaker than before. It rings in his skull, and Martin fights it back until it fades to background noise.

Jon whispers, barely audible. "I can't - I can't control it."

Oh.

"Alright, alright…" Martin bites his lip for a moment. Nods to himself.

"Okay, let's just - I'll ask you yes or no questions for now. You can, ah - just nod for yes and shake your head for no. Is that alright?"

Jon's face is still hidden, but that's alright. After a moment, he nods enough for Martin to discern the movement.

"G-good, okay-" Martin pauses, not immediately sure what question to go with first.

"Did you have a nightmare, earlier? Is that what scared you?" Martin silently chides himself for asking two questions, but hopefully it won't matter.

Jon nods.

"Has this happened before? The, uh-" Martin makes a hand motion, but Jon can't see it. "Th-the 'not being able to control the compulsion,' thing?"

There's a pause, then Jon shakes his head. Martin frowns.

"Alright, that's alright. Do you think you can look at me?"

Another pause, longer. Martin doesn't press as the seconds pass. Then Jon slowly raises his head.

Jon's eyes are wide, rimmed with red and dark circles more pronounced than they had been in the last few days. Tears are steadily dripping down his cheeks, flushed dark against his complexion. His lips are pressed tightly together, and Martin can see the barely contained panic mingled with exhaustion in every line of his face.

"Hey." Martin greets, feeling like a small victory. Jon quickly casts his gaze down and to the side, not meeting Martin's eyes. He also moves his hands to wrap around his torso, shivering harshly against the cabinets. Martin frowns again. He racks his brain for the seemingly mundane moments from the previous day. Jon talking less as the day had gone on, his less-than-already-finnicky appetite, going to bed early because he said he was a bit tired. Nothing individually out of the ordinary, not after the hell they'd dragged themselves through just to get here. But-

"Jon, is it alright if I touch you?"

Jon nods almost immediately, but still avoids Martin's eyes. Encouraged, Martin moves carefully to press the back of his hand against Jon's cheek. It's warm - hot, even - to the touch. Martin checks his forehead for good measure, feeling the heat before their skin actually makes contact. Martin's winces in sympathy, moving his hand back to Jon's cheek. He uses both hands, for good measure, to cup Jon's face, and wipe the stray tears still dripping from his lashes.

"Oh, love. You're burning up." Martin says, gently. "That must have something to do with it."

Jon's brow furrows. He brings his own hand up to his face, seemingly to try and feel his own temperature. Martin can't help the quiet laugh.

"First let's get off the floor. 's not exactly comfortable, yeah?" Martin offers. 

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Jon doesn't react, eyes locked in a middle distance between the two of them. But then all at once his expression breaks, and he buries his face in his hands.

Martin's heart leaps into his throat. "Oh, hey, hey-"

Jon's words are muffled by his hands, and broken up by harsh, jagged sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Martin moves forward slightly so he can wrap his arms around Jon. He can feel the shivers wracking Jon's frame, and the heat radiating off of him in waves. Martin tucks Jon's head under his chin, and holds him.

"Hey, it's okay." And it's not a lie. Martin was scared - terrified, to put it lightly. He knows he can't just brush that fear away. But he's not scared of Jon, never has been, never will be. And Martin know Jon, knows him and loves him and knows that he loves him back. Martin thinks that this might be more complicated than that, but right now, with Jon coming apart on the kitchen floor, it feels that simple.

"I know you didn't mean to, Jon. It's alright."

Jon shakes his head weakly in protest. Martin can't make out his exact words, jumbled as they are. But he feels the intent behind them, with the way they reverberate in his chest.

"We can talk about it later, when you're feeling better. But I'm not mad, I promise." Martin runs a hand through Jon's hair. It might have been a braid when Jon first went to bed, but it's mostly undone now. "Right now, I'm just worried about you. That's a nasty fever you're running."

They stay like that for a few minutes more. Jon's form is still a trembling leaf in Martin's arms, shallow and uneven breaths punctured by the occasional apology and stifled cry. Jon's forehead is pressed into his neck, burning like a furnace against Martin's skin.

Martin almost asks Jon if he can walk, but instead-

"Jon, is it alright if I pick you up?"

Jon tenses, and Martin immediately regrets asking. But then Jon nods affirmative, relaxing slightly into Martin's hold. Oh thank god.

Jon fits easily into the bends of Martin's arms, one at his back and one under his knees. Jon's hands clench the front of Martin's shirt, tightening and loosening in an uneven rhythm as Martin stands. It's easy for Martin to carry him the short distance to the bedroom, mindful of the narrow door frames.

The quilt and sheets are pulled back from before, which is helpful now. Martin eases Jon onto the bed. He brushes Jon's hair away from his face in what Martin hopes is a comforting gesture. But Jon still has that faraway, panicky look in his eyes, and Martin has an idea.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be right back, I promise." Martin presses a kiss to Jon's forehead, hoping he heard and understood enough of that to not mind when he leaves the room.

Martin comes back with a damp cloth and a glass of water. And a bottle of pain reliever - one that Martin had originally picked up from the store as an afterthought, but is grateful for now. He sets the glass and bottle on the nightstand and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Next to Jon, who hasn't so much as shifted in Martin's admittedly brief absence. Martin lays a hand on Jon's shoulder, but after a moment, moves to Jon's cheek. An olive branch to Jon's clouded awareness.

"Alright, love. I'm gonna lay this on the back of your neck, okay? Can you lean forward a touch for me?" 

Jon doesn't move or otherwise react for a moment, and Martin is almost sure he didn't hear it. But then he pitches forward slightly, and Martin shifts so he can support Jon's weight against his shoulder. He brushes Jon's loose curls to the side, letting his fingers linger there for good measure.

"It's gonna feel really cold, but it'll help. Easy," Martin murmurs, placing the folded cloth on the back of Jon's neck. Jon flinches at the touch, hissing between a groan and a whimper. 

"I know, I know." Martin soothes easily, adding other words of comfort here and there, lost to his memory as soon as they cross his lips. He holds Jon close, taking the chance to comb his fingers again through Jon's bed-moussed hair. He knows Jon likes having his hair played with, so Martin ever so gently works his way through some of the tangles, careful never to pull too hard or too fast. Jon's breaths slow and deepen - still marred by the occasional hitch, but a vast improvement from before. He gradually sinks more of his weight onto Martin's shoulder, until Martin is sure he's the only reason Jon is still upright. But Martin doesn't mind.

"Better?" Martin asks, when Jon's trembling passes and his breaths sound less like someone on the verge of drowning. Jon clears his throat.

"I- yes." He rasps, hardly a whisper. The word pulls a cough out of him, but he keeps going. "Th- thank you."

"Of course." Martin says. He all but beams at the sound of Jon's voice, wretched as it sounds. He considers making tea, but something about the bonelessness of Jon's posture tells him Jon won't be awake long enough to see a cup finished. But he does grab the glass of water from the nightstand, and shifts so Jon can take it in both hands.

"Drink some of that for me." Martin presses, and Jon doesn't argue. Martin reaches for the pain reliever next, shaking two pills out and handing them to Jon. He seems surprised at first, but quietly offers a thank you as he takes them from Martin's hand.

"How are you feeling?" Martin asks. It feels like a stupid question, but one of those stupid questions that you just have to ask in lieu of anything else.

"I'm-" Martin knows Jon is about to say I'm alright and something in his face must stop Jon from finishing, because he cuts himself off with a sigh. He presses the heel of his palm into his eye, suppressing a wince. "To - to be honest, uh, quite terrible."

The frankness of it could almost be funny, but Martin's heart aches instead. "I'm sorry. The medicine should help, at least."

Even without his glasses, Martin can make out the two in the hour place of the digital clock on the nightstand, and yeah, it's time for bed.

"And some proper sleep."

Jon nods, eyelids heavy. Martin takes the half-empty glass from his hand, and encourages Jon to lie back with a gentle push. Martin joins him on the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back over the two of them. He leans, partially sitting up against the headboard, inviting Jon into the place at his side if he wants it.

Jon fills the space immediately, burrowing his face into Martin's shoulder. Arms curled in front of him, pressed into Martin's side. He sighs softly. Martin watches the last of the tension bleed out of Jon's face, eyes closed. Jon's fever leaves Martin's side overly warm in minutes, but Martin can't bring himself to mind.

He's sure Jon is already asleep, but-

"M-rtin?"

"What is it, Jon? Do you need something?"

Jon makes a negative sound into Martin's shoulder, shaking his head. It's quiet for a moment, save for their breathing.

"I love you."

Martin freezes, and the response comes as naturally as an inhale after an exhale.

"I love you too."