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oddinarylani · 3 months

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"you don't want me" | skz | pt. 1 | chan, lee know, changbin, hyunjin

9:51 pm. bang chan.

it was past midnight by now. the moon wasn’t shining. she was hidden behind great big storm clouds that’d been crying since noon. the dirt turned to slush, the pavements now a dark gray - different from their softer brighter colors underneath the sun. the only sound that triumphed through the room was the white-noise sound of the rain - beating down on the roof, on the windows, on cars outside, and on the earth.

empty. just empty. and tired. so tired. there wasn’t a way to describe it; and you were tired of trying. you hadn’t the drive for much anymore, not for work, or friends, but you still stood out for chan. you always would. you just haven’t been good at it for the past few weeks - and he was worried to bits which was the last thing you wanted.

maybe silence and the dreadful exhaustion of not even trying to communicate would fix things. maybe he’d get the right idea and move on. this couldn’t be good for him, no, surely not. there was better in the world, it just wasn’t the home of your arms.

“would you talk to me?” he asks, his voice shaky - brows melted together and worried sick. and he was truly worried sick. checking his phone for any texts from you or updates, laying awake when he let the worry eat him up.

you look up from your hands, realizing you were lost in thought. “o-oh, yeah. sorry.”

“sorry? i just want you to talk to me. you don’t have to apologize.” he grabs at your hands, a slippery grip that shakes his stable hold, he eventually steadies his hold and looks at you with a kind of wavering certainty. he’s trying desperately to be the strength you need, but his vigor is faltering. he sees all the hope in the palms of his hands being to melt away and he hadn’t the time to sort through the hundreds of thoughts forming in the terrorous wake of that.

your hand falls slack in his own, failing in your grip of his desperate grab of your hands. chan watches every microexpression that graces your face, seeing your brows bleed together. doubt strikes your features, and you slide your hand from his grasp, shaking your head before the words leave your mouth.

all you had to do was muster the strength to speak the words, but even then, swallowed by a kind of grief, completely blindsided by false-truths, but even then it hurt to say.

“y-you don’t want me,,” your watery eyes can’t even meet chan’s - he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces all over the floor.

“you’re all i want, all i have ever wanted- what do you mean.” and his voice wobbles, he wants to reach out, grab you, stabilize you - shake the sense into you, because what do you mean he doesn’t want you? he’s wanted you so terribly for so long that he let it tear him up inside.

“i’ve been in love with you for years- i-i love you so much, you’re all i want.” he does reach out now, bracing your arms in his gentle hands when the tears spill over your cheeks and you crumble in his hold.

“b-but i’m like,,, this- i-i don’t-” he brings your body into his arms, your chest meeting his as his big arms wrap around you and hold you tight to his body. he’s warm, and his embrace just fills you up so much you don’t know what to do with it.

“i love this part too. i promised you that and i do. i always will okay?” his hands hold the sides of your head, over your hair - and he pulls away to look you in the eye when he says that. he knows you need to hear it, knows you need to look at him when he does.

you fold and buckle, only able to nod to keep your voice from wobbling and cracking. you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest.

“i’ll never stop telling you i love you.” he presses his plushy lips to the top of your head, his hands smoothing over your back gently. “i’ll tell you more.” he promises.

“i-i’m scared i’ll push you away, that i’ll scare yo-you off or that i’ll hurt you. i-i can’t-” you shake your head against him and frown, his t-shirt soaking up the wetness from your cheeks. “i can’t hurt you, chan. i can’t do that to you.”

“you don’t hurt me, baby. you never have, i promise. just wanna be here for you.” he mumbles against your hair, his hand cradling the side of your head. his lips leave tingly kisses along your hairline, and his promises to you fill you with love that you’re unsure what to do with.

you nod against him, and he smooths his hands over your head again, “okay? i love you.” he pulls away, his eyes soft and brows melted together as his sights washed over your tear stained cheeks and face. “love you too.” you mumble, his thumbs swiping your under eyes and drying your cheeks.

8:12 am. lee know.

soft cuts of sunlight filtered in through the lines of the blinds and you’re immediately met with the warmth of the bed beneath you. the shirt you were wearing wasn’t yours, and your hair still seemed done from the night before - with a wandering and curious gaze, your eyes filter over to the sight next to you, and your lips part in surprise.

minho, laying like an angel, as always. sleepy, soft skin blanketed by a thick comforter - lean muscle beneath. his hair was sprawled and he was still wearing makeup but if he wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world you didn’t know what was.

only problem of course, he was your friend. a long time friend. and you’d been into him for far too long to let this slide.

quickly, your legs slither out from the comforters, your toes finding the wood floors with ease as you move quietly to slink out of his bed, your gaze fixated on his sleeping face the entirety of your attempted escape. you pull on your skirt from the night before, grab your shoes in one hand before they slip from your grip and clatter to the floor quite ceremoniously.

your face winces up, shoulders and spine tight as he stirs, his eyes fluttering open.

he leans up on his elbows, eyes squinted as they adjust to the mild morning light coming from behind his blinds.

“what’re you doing?” he asks tiredly, slumping back into the mattress as you gather your shoes in your hand once more.

you push your hair from your face, huffing to gather your breath as you look at him. “i have to leave, minho.” you explain, feeling the tightness in your chest gather at the thought.

“you don’t, come back to bed-” he groans, stretching, his hand gently offered to you as he laid back down, eyes sleepy and voice croaky.

all of your hurt, after all of these years comes back to the forefront of your brain. the nights you spent crying, realizing he’d never want you, the years spent in pain in realization you’d never have him. and you can’t stop yourself from blurting what you truly felt, tired and defeated.

“you don’t want me.” you shrug like it’s easy, like there was no other way, only acceptance of what you’d manage to convince yourself of. your chest aches at the sound of your own statement, but you grip your shoes a little closer and swallow the dryness in your throat.

he leans up, slow. the crinkle of the comforter as he does so only fills you further with nervous anticipation. his eyes are still tired, angeled and low and he seems so pleased with what he says.

“i do want you.” his brows lift for a moment. not for a second does his eye contact waver - and you knew, a small but very true part of you knew he wasn’t lying but you couldn’t accept it. no it wouldn’t be that easy, and maybe it meant something different to him.

“no you don’t.” it’s gentle, defeated, barely rolled off your mouth when you say it and he feels your hurt - feels a bit of his own too though he wouldn’t like to admit it.

“i do.” he presses. his expression changes, one of understanding that melts at the ache in your chest. he softens, his hand now more of an extended invitation. almost like he was silently pleading with you to just take it - take it and trust him.

your fingertips tingle with the twinge of need that extends in your touch; they act before you can control them. the back of your hand raises, the supple skin of your palm meets his, and he wraps his hand around yours the moment you touch.

it feels so right - god it feels right. it nearly takes the breath away from you - even this was enough. just this.

he pulls you closer to him, his arm lifting to circle around your waist like it was the first time he’d ever done so; his touch and hold almost chivalrous. never for a second does he let his eyes leave your own, your face. his skin awakens prickles in your skin, your lungs take in breaths shakily - like every bit of you trembles at his touch.

he takes your hand, swallows it in his grip because he wants to ground you - just think of me. it’s like he says. i’m here. a promise. what he can’t muster to say in words - he tries desperately hard to say in the way he floods your senses. it’s bracing, whole.

“have for a while.” he admits softly, as your knee comes to press into the softness of his bed, getting closer by the second.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, sitting with your legs folded over his own cloaked by the comforter.

he shakes his head gently, brows raised again, for a moment. “don’t know.” he musters, smiling for a second at the realization of his own sheer disbelief. why hadn’t he? fear? doubt?

“i should’ve said something too. ‘s okay.” you squeeze his hand before softly pulling it from his grasp, knowing he wasn’t the biggest fan of skinship. but to your surprise, he reaches back out for you.

he pulls your hand to his cheek, leaning into the touch with soft low gaze. his skin is warm, his guidance of your hand to his face is gentle, and you feel your heart lighten at the action, a small understanding smile on your lips. your shoes are disregarded, hair messy, but all you see is him. and all he wants is you.

3:43 pm. changbin.

“your friend,” your mom begins. “the one with the…” her voice drifts off, her hands gesturing in long strokes of her fingers from the top of her head to her mid-waist, repeating this action until you understood. the long hair, she was meaning.

“yeah,” you follow with their name.

“their parents were at the recital - did you know she’s going off to a performing arts high school?” and you swallow because of course you knew this, the whole school did. and now your hands were wringing together because you were nervous, anxious. and you just didn’t want to hear her actually say it or it’d confirm everything.

“why don’t you do something like that?

it was a frightening feeling and not at all fleeting. no. this sat with you, cooked inside your brain and marinated in a venomous concoction of long-lasting insecurity and self-doubt.

being loved by and loving changbin was a catalyst and returning friend of a face you said goodbye to some time ago. comparatively, you and changbin were very different people. a world-renown producer and artistic creator to one of the most popular kpop groups to ever rise in the industry, and you.

little you.

with nimble fingers half-good at crochet, a homemade recipe for lemon ginger tea, and a smile you convinced yourself most days was nice, you didn’t compare. it wasn’t sad, it took no convincing on your end, it just was.

suddenly consciousness regains in the forefront of your mind - and it slips from your lips before you can stop it.

“you don’t want me.” it’s said into the phone pressed against your cheek, you’re driving, and you’re nearly home. the rain is still falling from the morning - shining and wetting the roads up for traffic lights to reflect their bright colors on the throats of puddles.

on the other end of the line, changbin’s voice dies in his throat - too thoroughly stunned in the moment to even try speaking. his lips part, his brain thinks over the words you’ve just said to him, and he can’t puzzle himself as to why you’d ever say that.

“w-why do you want me-” a sharp intake of breath past your lips, a shudder, the slam of your car into park as the doors unlock and his very first instinct before anything else is to be there.

he says your name, speaks it with ease - familiarized himself with the way it feels in his mouth, and he stutters before speaking again.

“of course i want you- are-are you okay? talk to me, baby what’s going on?” he stiffens up in his chair and chan leaves the room to grab a call from an executive. right now the music doesn’t matter, the hours of work spent trying to delicately assemble a new track doesn’t matter, the only thing he can think about is you. why you’re saying this.

“i-it’s been-” you sniff, wiping your face at the pathetic notion of your own tears. “it’s been on my mind lately and i can’t stop thinking about it, bin.” your hand shakes with the grip on your phone, voice failing as you succumb to the tears. your shoulders shake, and you put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise - as if you could hide it from changbin.

“baby, i’m here, i’m here, it’s okay. let me wrap this up with chan real quick and i’ll be over okay? you at your place?” he asks, voice soft and turned away from the mixing booth as chan walks back into the studio.

you nod, humming and confirming.

“i’ll be on my way in a minute, okay? i’ll text you when i’m headed over, baby.”

he leaves a minute later, driving like hell to get to you quick enough - and when he sprints up the stairs to your apartment he walks in to find the lights low and your form sitting on the couch - head resting in your hand.

“i’m here, baby. what’s wrong.” he doesn’t miss a beat - immediately he kneels at the couch, his hands coming to stroke your upper arms, coaxing you soothingly to open up to him. you shake your head, lips wobbling.

“god- it’s pathetic really, bin-” you almost chuckle in hindsight. “just…” you look down, feeling the warmth of his hands as he circles you.

there’s a brief intermittent pause. a realization. it washes over you and steals the words from your mouth and the thoughts along with them. his hands pause between your bodies as if he’s afraid - afraid to touch you - afraid to upset you. more big wet tears cascade down your cheeks, face flushed with heat and red, and you wish more now than ever that he’d just hold you.

“i-i don’t,,, i can’t-” you sniff. “compare to you.” it angers you to even speak it, knowing it’d hurt him. why.

“y-you don’t,,” you shake your head, your eyes filtering up to meet his own that look at you with such disbelief it’s almost sobering.

you were telling him this. like it was a fact, like it was your decision to make. he thinks maybe that’s why it hurt so much to hear you say it. like there was no alternative in your mind, nothing you could tell yourself to soothe this particular ache. like your mind was made up.

“baby, baby-” he stands to sit next to you on the couch, gently grabbing your legs to toss over his own, his hands coming to stroke the wetness from your cheeks. every touch of his skin on your own is terribly grounding and sobering, and for a moment your tears slow a bit as he cradles your face in his calloused hands.

“all i want is you. all i want. okay? i want all of you, on your best and worst days.” his arms circle you, hand resting at the back of your head to urge him into your shoulder. there’s where your tears fall now, arms grasping onto him and his shoulders. “there’s nothing you or anyone else could say to change my mind either. you’re perfect and i love you.”

you nod against him, breathing in shaky. “i love you. i love you so much.” you know he’ll say it as many times as he must before you accept it.

“love you too. love you.” you’ve become something like putty in his arms as he holds you. his hands soothe over your back, and you hear it; hear him. and believe him.

1:03 am. hyunjin.

your fingertips shake, fluttering over the textured fabric of the dress sitting daintily from your figure. a breath released, a breath inhaled, and in the next moment - it all comes crumbling; the image of yourself you brave for yourself. the falsities, the fabrications. in the reflection of the mirror you watch peripherally your face drop, turning to the side to run your hands over the curve of your body, trying to make it fit, trying to fit this idea into a box.

your hands drop slack, hitting the sides of your legs. your composure weakens and you feel a buckle in your ability to withstand it.

“fuck,,” you whisper, turnin away from the mirror with your hands on your face - fighting with might only a god could match to keep from crying.

too many tears were shed because of this very same reality, you didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of succumbing to it.

but your knees buckle - submitting to it, and you’re right back at square zero.

hyunjin was going to be home any moment now, this fact had drifted away from your thoughts as hot tears welled up in your eyes, only when you hear the door unlock do you tighten up like board was tied to your back. you stand, walking to the closet to change quickly. just as your fingers unzipped the back, tears rolling over your cheeks and jaw, hyunjin announces he’s walked into the bedroom with a soft, “i’m back, baby.”

his voice was soft, and he was completely oblivious and safe from the torrent of thoughts within your skull. he slinks in, your hands pause from unzipping your dress. “ah,” you sniff. “hey honey.”

his head turns in your direction at the sound of that.

he doesn’t have sights on you, you’re hidden behind the closet doors, but he makes his way over quietly, making a questioning type of humming noise, as if gently asking, “what?”

you keep your lips sealed, unable to conjure an excuse quick enough - he’s suspected you already and you know if he finds you like this, it’ll be a torrential downpour you won’t be able to stop - hyunjin had that effect.

“,,,babe? what’s-“ “d-don’t-“ your hand stops him from opening the closet door, you didn’t mean for the action to come across as aggressive it was - but you couldn’t let him see, and your heartbreaks at the idea.

“what’s wrong, angel? i won’t judge you, i promise.” he relaxes his hands on the closet doors, his eyes darting over it’s surface. there’s a bit of anxiety boiling up now for hyunjin, he hadn’t a clue what was going on but he expected the worst by far. all he wanted was to be there for you - know why you were upset and help.

“the dress i-… it doesn’t look good.” you sniff again, on the very edge once more as tears build more, faster.

“i’m sure you look beautiful, baby. it’s okay. can i come in?” he doesn’t press the door, but instead waits for your consent.

“s-some of the beading came off while i was putting it on and the seams look stretched-“ you take a breath shakily from your nose, “hyunjin-“ you say his name with reason, like saying it would be enough to soothe you. hyunjin feels his heart ache deep within his chest, his bottom lip pushed out slightly as he hears your hurt.

“you won’t… you won’t want me.”

it absolutely tears him up inside the way you say that.

he pushes the door with no fighting from you, eyes first and only meeting your eye contact. “all i want is you, okay? i want you.” he promises, hands a bit shaky as he smooths over your hair and holds your face, his movements a bit sporadic as he tries everything he can to get you to focus on him, on what he was saying.

“i love you.” he exhales. “i love you.” his hands shake your face the slightest amount to just try to get you to believe him.

“and you look so beautiful, baby.” he mumbles into your hairline, pulling you into his arms, his own eyes closed tight. his hands flatten against your back, running his palms smooth over your exposed skin. “you are so beautiful.”

in his arms, your crying slows. and the only reason he lets you go is to make a point.

“come. follow me.” he grasps your hand, letting you follow behind him with as he stands in your mirror.

“look at you.” he smiles softly, holding your hands in his own. “so pretty,” he whispers as if in thought, looking over your form as if it was a book to study.

you wipe your face, feeling hyunjin begin to walk behind you, his hand kept only our waist as he now towers behind you - warm hand resting on your hip. “i knew when i bought this you’d look beautiful but,, it’s more than that.” his voice is soft, only shared between the both of you.

you shake your head gently, feeling his hands steady on your zipper, stabilizing your side as he begins zipping you up - his eyes thoroughly focused on your form in the mirror as he does so. he says it like he doesn’t doubt it even for a moment. there’s not a moment he doesn’t think you’re outstanding, and not a moment he wishes to quiet his claim of your beauty.

“look at me,” he asks, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes in the mirror. you let his soft touch gently guide you - his thumb swiftly drying a stray tear. his hand settles on the other side of your waist, holding you in his hands. his look is all too knowing, chin dropped, fully expectant on you understanding what he was thinking - and all you can do for a moment is chuckle, wiping your cheeks.

“you look so pretty, baby - this was made for you.” he promises, admiring the texture of the dress under his hands as he gently strokes your sides and smiles.

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snailmail444 · 4 months

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Alex x Reader 🙈

All Tied Up

18+ 💚 NSFW 💚 MDNI

Alex x Reader

It’s the way I have been absolutely possessed the past few days. I’ve been in a huge writing slump but then the new year hit and my brain just. Decided to function? We’re riding the wave folks we’ll see how long it keeps up lol.

ANYWAY! Enjoy the third fulfilled ask in a week. I hope y’all aren’t sick of me yet lmao. NSFW under the cut and remember MDNI

“Are you sure you can’t break these?” You ask, pulling at one of the knots binding Alex to your bed.

Alex stares up at you, all big green eyes and still-confident smirk. “Even I can’t do that. I’ll prove it. But you don’t have to worry baby. It’s no sweat, I can behave.”

He flexes and you watch the veins in his arms protrude as he turns his wrists this way and that, trying and failing to find any give in your handiwork. A flush burns down your face, and your throat feels dry as you eye him up and down—large and muscular and completely at your mercy.

You would have never thought that Alex and his body builder physique would be in such a submissive position. Naked, spread eagle and tied to your bedposts, muscles taught and cock flushed. Laid out for you to devour however you please.

You run your palms up his chest, and his skin is hot against yours, smooth and solid as you work your way up. His pounding heart startles you, feeling how fast and hard it’s beating in his chest. For a minute you stall, feeling the strong rhythmic thump, and almost ask if he’s alright.

Almost, except you can see the way his cock twitches and precome beads at the tip just from your idle touches. You haven’t so much as breathed on it, yet it’s straining so hard already it’s obvious his heart rate isn’t due to nerves.

You straddle him, fighting your cocky smile away, and purposefully maintain eye contact as you suck one of his nipples. Alex instantly forgets his restraints, jerking an arm and making the bed-frame rattle. He was right—the knots aren’t going anywhere.

He pants out a heavy breath, and you hide your delight as you lavish attention on his other nipple. You won’t tease him for too long. Not this first time, anyway.

You push your hips back as you skim your teeth along his shoulder, making sure to rub it in that you can touch as much as you want by stroking up his ribcage, down his sides, along his arms.

Only a little more teasing, you think as you glide your wet cunt across his cock, pretending to have trouble guiding it in as you squeeze it’s base and coat it in your arousal.

“Ahh, please,” he whines, hips bucking as much as the pitiful give in his binds allow, “baby I can’t.”

“What happened Alex? It was no sweat what, two minutes ago? Not even?”

He opens his mouth to respond, and you stop him by sinking all the way down on his cock. His hands strain, and you can tell by the way he’s flushing and tossing his face to the side he’d be hiding in his hands to mute the stuttering moan that falls past his lips.

You don’t give him a moment of respite, electing to ride hard and fast. Without the use of his hands Alex can’t modulate your pace. Typically he’d slow you down, keep you steady, but now you’re allowed the free rein to completely ruin him.

“Ah, w-wait,” he huffs, hips twitching and grinding like he might be able to make you listen to him without using his safe word.

It’s too bad you aren’t in a listening mood.

He can’t take it for too long, biting his lip and breathing in stuttering gasps while he tries to stave off his orgasm.

“Ba-aby, I—“ Alex’s voice cracks, “I’m not gonna—hah—I’m really—“

Either he can’t hold himself off anymore, or he realizes you’re not going to listen, because Alex’s babbling ceases as his back arches and he comes with a whine, his muscles straining and flushed down to his chest.

Your cunt throbs as you slow down through his orgasm, gyrating against his hips until he stops twitching. He’s starting to catch his breath, and you bite down on a smile as you pick up the pace, watching as his face twists up.

“A-h-ah—you—I—“ his voice is a squeak, stopping abruptly as he feel you continuing to rock against his soft cock. A low-grade hum buzzing out of his chest continually as you ride him relentlessly. When it doesn’t stop, you finally still.

“Safe word?” You ask, stroking his cheek and feeling the heat of his skin against yours.

“Nuh—no,” he gasps out, bucking into your cunt despite the way it makes him cry out.

You smirk. This is going to be a fun night.

#stardew valley #sdv #writing #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #asks #sdv alex #stardew valley Alex #alex x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #oneshot #drabble #stardew valley imagines #n.sfw //

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 month

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How can I help you?

masterlist

summary: since you were small, your mom has always been able to help you feel better. fallen ice cream, scratched knee, your mom always knew the solution. but now? it almost seems that even your mother doesn’t know how to help you now…

pairing: Natasha x depressed daughter reader

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1459

a/n: I’ve been in quite a weird period the past two weeks. my emotions have been weird and confusing, which is why I haven’t posted anything in a while. I apologise for not posting a lot, and I promise to get at least three small fics out this week :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You can’t really remember when it started. You were always fond of being in your room, yet at some point, being in your room wasn’t really your choice anymore. When you didn’t know who to blame, you simply blamed Covid. Ever since that virus came, your life has become confusing.

Natasha would usually just blame it on your teenage years. You were going through puberty. Your body changed. Your mind changed. Everything changed.

However, somewhere, deep down, you knew it wasn’t your age.

You graduated last year, and because you weren’t sure what you wanted to study, you had decided to take a gap year. Natasha was incredibly supportive. She said she didn’t want you to choose anything because you felt like you had to, so you didn’t choose at all.

The first few months of your gap year were amazing. You were enjoying all the free time you suddenly had, spending it with either gaming, reading, or watching your shows.

At some point, however, it started to become boring.

You didn't want to go back to school. However, you also didn’t really want to stay at home anymore either. You didn’t know what you wanted.

Most days, you slept in until noon. Natasha would leave for work early in the mornings, and you would stay behind in bed. You only saw your mother when she came home late from work. You didn’t tell her about you sleeping in so late. Your mother has always followed a healthy lifestyle. Even on the days she was free she would wake up early.

She never shamed you for sleeping in. She never woke you up or told you you needed a better sleep schedule. However, still, for some reason, you felt ashamed.

You didn’t tell her about your energy disappearing either. You didn't tell her you didn't have the energy to get out of bed anymore. You didn't tell her you lost the energy to eat. You never told her you lost the ability to take care of yourself. At one point, it just happened.

You knew that if you ever told Natasha she would be worried sick. You knew she would do anything to make you feel better. She had done so since she adopted you.

When you were five you were in the park, and Natasha had gotten you ice cream. However, you were a little too excited, and after jumping once, your ice cream rolled off its cone. You stood there crying, while Natasha simply picked you up and assured you she would fix it. She kissed your tears away and got you another ice cream, in a little paper bowl this time.

When you were 9, you were playing outside. You fell while your auntie Yelena was chasing you, and you scraped your knee. You clutched your leg and you wailed for your mama, and there she was. She picked you up and once again she kissed your tears away. She took you inside and gently cleaned your wounds. She allowed you to pick out a beautiful band-aid, and she gently placed it on your scratch, before kissing it better.

However, how could she possibly fix this? How could she place a band-aid on a wound she couldn't see?

You felt hopeless, and you felt as though the only way out would be to end it. You weren't very fond of the idea of ending your life. You didn't really want it to end, after all. You just wanted your current life to end. Your life was slow, and for some reason it felt as though you were merely floating around.

At some point, you stopped existing. You stopped being you. You just became another dot on the map.

You weren't a person anymore. You were a thing existing in this world. You were existing, but you weren't significant. You didn't matter, so what difference would it make if you weren't there anymore at all?

Today was no different. Natasha had gone to work early, leaving you to sleep in. You were still in bed, even though it was already 4 pm.

However, what you didn't know was that Natasha had been seeing something was wrong for a while. She knew you weren't yourself, and she knew you struggled taking care of yourself. Yet, for your entire life you've always wanted to do things yourself. You never wanted your mom to help you. And so, even now, she decided to give you time to figure things out for yourself.

However, now she decided that time was up. You weren't getting any better, and Natasha was only growing more worried with the day.

She had gone to work that morning, but at her job she told her boss that she was taking a few weeks off. Her daughter needed her, had been her truthful excuse, and her boss agreed. She went home around 4.30 pm, and when she entered the house she found out you were still in bed.

She walked towards your room and softly knocked on your door.

“Sweetheart? Are you there?” Natasha spoke as she opened the door, her eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness in your room.

“Are you alright, honey?” Natasha asked as she walked into your room, closing the door behind her and sitting beside you on the bed. You barely acknowledged her presence, humming softly while you pulled your blankets up a bit, trying to shield your face from the light coming from the hallways.

Natasha let her hand gently stroke your hair, feeling the oily and knotted hair that rested on top of your head.

“Are you okay?” Natasha then asked, and before you even had time to respond, you started crying.

Natasha didn't hesitate to pull you into a sitting position, pulling your body so it could lean upon hers. She allowed you to sob into her shoulder while she gently stroked you back, letting you know you were safe.

“I don't know why I feel this,” you sobbed out.

“It's alright, sweetheart, you don't have to know,” Natasha explained softly as she gave you a kiss on your hair. She held your head tightly to her chest, allowing her lips to rest upon your head.

“I don’t feel good, mama. I don't wanna be like this,” you sobbed out, and it didn't take long before Natasha realised what you truly meant by that.

However, being the understanding mom she is, she didn't comment on it. She didn't suddenly sprung you with motivational quotes, telling you you have so much left to live for. She simply held you, sushing you as you cried and sniffled in her shoulder.

“Can I help you?” Natasha softly asked after a few minutes, waiting for your confirmation.

When you gave a small nod and let out another sob, Natasha lifted your body out of your bed, carrying you towards the bathroom and putting you down on the toilet cover.

She turned the water on, allowing the bathtub to fill with hot water as steam filled the room.

“I’m gonna grab some clean clothes alright? I'll be right back,” Natasha stated as she went back into your room, grabbing some clean clothes before returning to the bathroom. She set the clothes on the rack, helping you off the toilet seat and out of your clothes.

After you were settled in the bath, Natasha pulled out some shampoo, massaging it into your head before rinsing it out, repeating the process with the conditioner.

After your hair was clean, Natasha grabbed a comb, gently working on the knots and matted parts of your hair. After she finished, she washed your hair again, enjoying the feeling of the now silky soft hair in between her fingers.

After finishing your hair, she helped you wash the rest of your body, before helping you out of the bathtub and drying you off.

Natasha didn't allow you to walk yourself, instead lifting you up into her arms and carrying you down the stairs. Luckily she was crazy strong, so despite your age, she could still easily carry you as if you were merely a small child.

After you were settled on the couch, Natasha went into the kitchen, preparing you a nice and healthy meal.

For the rest of the day, you simply sat on the couch, leaning on your mama while she gently stroked your back. It might have seemed lazy to the normal person, but for you, it was change. You weren't alone, for starters. There was daylight in the living room, and there was social interaction, even if little was being said.

In the end, you realised, that despite the wound not being visible, your mama would always be able to stick a band-aid on it.

Fic tags: @prentissluvrz @natsbiggestfan1

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @n0txn3vee @lorsstar1st

#black widow #marvel #natasha x reader #mcu #avengers #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader platonic #natasha x daughter #marvel reader insert #natasha romanov #natasha #natasha romanoff x teen reader #natasha romanoff x daughter #natasha romanoff x reader platonic #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #depressed reader #natasha x depressed reader #mama natasha

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yxami · 4 months

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Since I’m sick (no longer sick and I forgot this in my drafts) warning alert it’s short

Yandere doctor whose lively aura only explodes further when he sees you in the room, never brightening up around his other patients like this. Honestly, how long has it been since you made an appointment with him? A week? 2? A month?

He wish he kept track but work has had him so stressed he’s hardly had any time to even monitor over you which is a struggle that has him sleepless these past days.

“Hello, what brings you in?” He says smoothly, praising himself mentally for being able to deliver it the way he wants, sitting in his chair that he brings closer to you with the slightest squeak of wheels from his accidental hastiness.

“I’m not sure, I’ve just been feeling out of the weather, a cold I guess I would say?” A small chuckle leaves your lips, unsure whether you should make another guess on what your immune system failed to do this time.

“Well, I suppose that’s why I’m here, to find out” He says in a chipper tone, getting up to meet you at where you sat, on the couch-like chair that patients sit on with paper, it crinkled under you as scooted to meet his stethoscope.

“Alright, I’ll just move some of your shirt..” He tries to keep steady hands as he hooks his large fingers around your shirt, moving it more to the side than actually needed, taking a peek for himself with dusted cheeks as he listens to your heart beat. “You sound just fine” He mumbles after a few moments.

“What have you been feeling lately?” He gently smiles, taking his stethoscope away from your chest, tempted to stray his fingers further down but he controls himself, no matter how much he’s desired to do so.

“I’ve got a sore throat for awhile, and consistent sneezing, it’s gotten really annoying” You sigh, a little content with his touch, it was soft and caring, something you expect out of a doctor.

You just didn’t know it was more personal than you thought.

“I can already tell it’s a common cold, I’ll write down some cold medicines that you can pick up from the pharmacy down the street” He turns to his clipboard, wanting to prolong this visit even more but he knows it’ll only look more suspicious if he does, unless he uses unsuspcious tactics.

You patiently swing your legs as you wait, wondering when he’d finish writing down the things. Your thumb softly presses against your phone as you scroll mindlessly through social media apps.

“You don’t have a significant other right?” His ears burn bright red under his brown curls, thankfully hidden away from your vision, unable to detect what expression is forming on your face.

“Oh, um no, I don’t get close enough to anyone to get a cold, I think it was from the rainstorm we had a bit ago” You think nothing of it, assuming he was just curious of the cause. Surely your doctor wouldn’t be some sort of pervert, right?

“That’s nice.. ah- in a cold way, it’s nice that you’re not easily infected by others” He almost loses his cool headed demeanor, yet he can’t help but grin at that fact. Maybe it’s fate keeping you from finding someone, it’s him that you’re supposed to find, you just haven’t realized it yet.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere obsession #yandere stalker #crazy yandere #soft yandere #yandere soft #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere doctor

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reputationmunson · 1 year

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In This Together | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: The beginning of your journey through parenthood with Eddie

Content: pregnancy fic (reader finds out she’s pregnant), mentions of nausea and throwing up, fluff, use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9K

a/n: so this is the first part “series” and if you have any requests/things you would like to read for this please let me know and i will be more than happy to oblige!

For the past week, life has been throwing you punches left and right.

On your way home from work one night, your car decided that in the middle of a thunderstorm would be the perfect time to break down. Luckily, your mechanic husband came to the rescue. Unluckily, he ordered chinese takeout for dinner to cheer you up, which led to you getting food poisoning.

You’ve had to call off of work for the past five days due to being ill. Somehow, Eddie must’ve skipped on the side dish of foodborne illness because he never ended up getting sick.

Eddie has been picking up a few extra shifts this week because you were so stressed about missing work and the effect that would have on your paycheck. Honestly, money hasn’t been much of an issue lately, but he insisted on working so his chance for a promotion would increase.

You’ve been an emotional wreck without him lately. Every time he leaves you feel like he’s going off to war and you have no idea when he’ll return. He thinks it’s adorable while you think you’re going insane. Sometimes throughout the day you’ll spray his cologne, even though the scent has been making you a bit queasy for some reason.

You haven’t been able to keep any food down, so you decided to give your mom a call and ask for her special soup recipe. She always made it when a friend or family member was sick and you swear it has healing powers.

“Hi, mom. it’s me” you say, voice hoarse from all the throwing up.

“Hi, sweetie. you sound awful, is everything okay?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes when she asks. Your period must be coming soon because your emotions have been all over the place.

“Not really. I’ve had food poisoning and I can’t keep anything down, so I just wanted the recipe for your soup”

“Oh, honey. Is Eddie there to make it for you?”

“N-no. he’s working like all the time recently because he’s up for a promotion and I just miss him so much that I think I'm losing my mind and I'm also starving but the thought of eating anything makes me want to puke '' you sob.

“y/n, are you pregnant?”

“what? no i’m not preg-” your voice drifts as realization hits you. You missed your period last month, but chalked it up to stress and this month is halfway over and you still haven’t gotten it.

“y/n? are you there?”

“y-yeah i’m here. I just, um, I think I need to sit down.”

“I’m coming over, honey. don’t worry everything will be okay”

In shock, you hang up the phone without saying another word. Could you really be pregnant? I mean, let’s be honest you and Eddie go at it like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is.

You and Eddie have discussed having kids on many occasions, but you both agreed to wait until the time was right. You wanted to move into a bigger house, nothing too fancy that you’d be paying off for the rest of your lives, but one big enough for your little rascals to run around. All you ever both wanted was a house filled with love and laughter, no matter how big or small.

After anxiously sitting in silence, your mom walks through the door with handfuls of grocery bags and she looks just about as frazzled as you do.

“yep. you’re pregnant.” is the first thing she says and you groan. “how do you know? Are you secretly psychic or something?”

“all mothers are psychic, you’ll find that out very soon. So, I bought all the fixins for my soup, three pregnancy tests, and a gallon of water. Drink up, i’ll start cooking”

You pour yourself a glass of water and chug until there isn’t a drop left in the cup.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a grandma! Between Eddie’s hair and your eyes, this baby is going to be beautiful.”

“Alright, I’ll go take the tests but please don’t get your hopes up”

In reality, you had your hopes up too. The thought of having a baby that was a mix of you and Eddie was the most amazing thing you could ever think of. You hoped they’d have his eyes, which if your kid is anything like their dad, they will use those big, brown eyes against you.

Maybe this hypothetical baby will even have a passion for music and Eddie can teach them how to play guitar. You can see it now. Your baby wouldn’t even be a year old before Eddie tried to form a family band.

“Don’t look at the first test until you take the other two!” your mother shouts as you disappear into the bathroom.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself after you're done and the anticipation is killing you. This plastic stick is holding the answer to your future and you still had two more to take before you could find out.

Almost a gallon of water and three pregnancy tests later, the pink sticks lay face down on the bathroom sink counter.

“Will you look for me? I can’t do it”

“Let’s do it together, okay? This is a wonderful experience” your mom squeezes your hand and you try to gather yourself.

On the count of three, you each pick one up and you gasp when you turn it around.

Two pink lines

Two. Pink. Lines

“It’s positive!” you shriek, anxiety replaced with glee. “Are they all positive?” you scan over all three and they show the same result.

You start to cry again, but this time it’s happy tears. Like the tears you cried when Eddie told you he loved you for the first time, then again when he got down on one knee, and also when he vowed to love you for the rest of his life no matter what, a promise he’s yet to break and you are confident he never will.

Your mom also begins to cry tears of joy while giving a hug. She was right, this is a wonderful experience.

When the thought crossed your mind during the phone call earlier, you were horrified. Now, you realize there’s nothing to be scared of. You’re having a baby with the man you love more than anything.

“When are you going to tell him? I don’t know how long I can keep this in!” she exclaims

“I’m telling him tonight I don’t think I can wait longer than that. But, please don’t say anything to anyone until we’re ready”

“I won’t. Now, tell me how you’re gonna tell him!”

Once your mom left, you decided to make yourself more presentable and set up a nice dinner for when Eddie got home. He would be home any minute and you were oozing with excitement.

The table was set, soup was on the stove, and you had put the tests in a gift bag with some tissue paper.

You had no worries about Eddie reacting badly to this news and not only did that soothe your nerves, it also reaffirmed that being with him was the best decision you ever made.

You hear his vehicle pull into the driveway and you scurry over to the door, ready to greet him the second he walks in.

“Eddie!” you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck right when he comes inside. “hey, baby” he arms wrap around your waist and pulls you into him. “How are you feeling?” he pulls back slightly to put his hand on your forehead to check if you have a temperature.

“So much better now that you’re home” you nuzzle into him and bask in the feeling of his presence. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to make dinner. you’re sick” he pouts and you can’t resist the urge to kiss him. He tastes like spearmint gum with a hint of the chapstick you force him to wear because his lips are too pretty to be chapped.

“My mom came over and made it, actually. she says hi, by the way” you lead him over to the couch and sit down. “Her special soup? fuck yeah” he says and you giggle at the enthusiasm.

“So, I was gonna wait until dinner but I have a present for you” you say, giddily. “A present for lil ol’ me? oh you didn’t have to, darlin’” he says in a fake southern accent. “Stay here, you goof”

You return to the living room, gift bag in hand and a big smile on your face. Eddie hasn’t seen your smile much since you got “food poisoning” and it’s the best present he can think of. For now, at least.

“Don’t just stare at me! Open it!” you excitedly demand as you stand in front of him where he’s sat on the couch.

“you’re just so goddamn pretty. i missed that smile” fuck, you love him so much. If you weren’t so nauseous and in anticipation for him to find out you're pregnant you’d take him to the bedroom and show him just how much you appreciate him.

“Eddie, I love you, but if you don’t open it right now I’ll make sure to never smile again” you threaten and try not to smile, but you can’t help it. After all these years, you still feel the same way you did on your first date with him. Absolutely lovesick.

“Jeez, no need for threats, Mrs. Munson” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes.

He tears through the tissue paper like it’s christmas morning and stops in his tracks once he looks in the bag.

“Is this?” He pulls out each test and stares intently at each one. “Are you?” He looks up at you with wide eyes and apparently he’s lost the ability to form a sentence. “yeah. we’re having a baby” and here come the waterworks again. Damn hormones.

His hand rests on your stomach and you cover his hand with your own. “Are you okay with that?” you whisper and he stands up, hand still on your belly. “I’m - fuck- I thought I’d be scared shitless when this day came, but I’m not. Are you okay with this?”

“I’m a little scared when I think of things like how we’re gonna have to move eventually and ya know, the whole childbirth part that’s probably gonna rip me to shreds, but I’m happy. Really happy”

“Me too and I think I’m gonna get that promotion to manager, which comes with a huge raise. We’ve been saving up for this since we got married, babe. We’re gonna be fine, okay?”

“I’m gonna get huge” you whine and he chuckles then presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I know. think about how big your tits are gonna get” he jokes. “Eddie! this is supposed to be sentimental!” you chide with a laugh. “But, seriously. Are you still gonna love me when I'm all swollen and grumpy? or when I make you get me ice cream at two in the morning?”

“First of all, you already make me get you ice cream at two in the morning. Second, you’re carrying our baby. If anything, I'm going to love you even more” he promises and pulls you into a loving hug.

“Is it okay that I’m somewhat terrified?” you ask, words a little muffled from your face being buried in his chest.

“I am too, but we’re in this together, yeah?” he assures you.

“yeah. together”

my baby fever has been through the roof lately i can’t wait to write more of these :)))

#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fic

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aromantic-diaries · 3 months

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I’m not entirely sure I’m aroace but I’m pretty sure and I think it just clicked for me. felt like I should share because no way in hell would I ever have realized this was probably aromantic behavior if I hadn’t had the community support and resources that I do.

over the past year I’ve had three short-lived relationships (including my first kiss and first ily) that started out great- super interested, knew em well, I made the first move.

dumped the first guy in two weeks, the second after two months, and the third after three weeks just about a half hour ago.

I just got this incredibly gross icky feeling once we were officially ‘together’ and they started returning interest in me. I want affection but only when I can initiate it, I couldn’t stand super sweet compliments and them being the sweetest cutest guys who clearly cared a lot about me. I love you or you’re perfect we’re disgusting to hear even though I know they’re supposed to be sweet. I felt like such a dick when my feelings essentially disappeared overnight and I got so viscerally uncomfortable with them. I could go days with texting them or being invested in them and their attention never wavered which I always found weird- does it not fluctuate or take a nose dive for everyone else too?

I’ve spent months at this point wondering if maybe it’s cus they’re all guys and I only like girls or other genders that I’ve never been with (possibility) or I’ve just happened to end up with the wrong people (unlikely as I knew two of them so well to the point we basically agreed we had the same thought patterns it was wild).

and after the last two breakups I haven’t felt sad because I missed the guy I’ve felt bad and sick and guilty because I know they cared about me a lot and I clearly hurt them when I wasn’t able to reciprocate. And now that I’ve thought about it more I think my ideal relationship is very queer platonic.

I want a partner I can give a title to but have it be very casual, almost like they don’t return interest in the normal sense. We can hang out and be affectionate but don’t feel the need to talk or hangout every day but they’d be your default for events or free time if you were up for it. I have something similar with a friend of mine and I’ve always loved it, nicknames and kisses while both of us were dating people romantically at the same time and the weird in between just worked neither of our partners were threatened by it and it felt great.

anyways, on the more hopeful side, now that I’ve figured these thing out for myself there’s a girl I really like that I think I’m going to ask to go to a local dance with and see if she’d be interested in my weird casual potential polyamorous relaxed aroace girlfriend idea. wish me luck and hopefully maybe some other aro sees this and goes hey they just like me fr cus Jesus this was a big revelation for me.

Good on ya for figuring things out and I wish you the best of luck in your ventures for an ideal partner! This in an interesting perspective and I always enjoy reading about other aspec people's experiences so thank you for sharing

#anon #mail time

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mochi-owos · 1 year

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I just like sharing my thoughts with people, either old friend and new friends (especially if it's hurt/comfort)

Have you ever imagine inazuman boys with s/o who is very healthy since childhood but when the times goes by their conditions go worse and they can't get out of the house and always coughing up bloods everytime

Its not threatening their life but he just got worried they might left him somedays

He tried to find medicine for you even he had to cross the sea, your life is so important and he can't bear losing another people he loves after what happened in the past

(So yeah, that's it, you don't have to rush tho, I just want to share my thoughts)

Inazuma men with a sick reader?!

Ayato, Heizou, Thoma, x Reader

The blood part seemed a bit too much for me so I didn’t do it, a little bit of angst if you squint rlly hard. HOPE YOU ENJOY LOVE

Ayato

Due to the nature of his work it wasn't often he go to see you. He would do his best to visits you on a regular basis, but it never truly was, at times he would miss a week, and if the gods do not look upon you, a few months.

Through the years he’d often deny the presumptions of your dating, people often thought so seeing the way he would talk about you— all too poetic for a “friend”.

Little had you know, on the long periods of time he wouldn’t see you he was out aboard, of course for work, but also in hopes to find something to help you; ease your pain, or even perhaps take the entire illness away. Oh, how he wishes.

"Ayato?" You whispered, attempting to sit up from the bed. The sun rays peeking through the curtains, a light scent of flowers flowed through the room, you look to your bedside table, fresh flowers?

Seeing your attempt to sit up he pushes you back, "Don’t over do it," He pushes away some hair falling onto your face, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His voice was soft, gentle.

"You’re here so soon. Has something happened?" You feel over Ayato’s hand, giving it a gentle rub.

He smiles feel warmer, "My dear, I’ve finally found a someone and something who may help you."

Most would feel bursts of joy, not to say you didn’t, but you couldn’t help but be skeptical. For many years has this illness plagued you, not only that but most doctors from Inazuma still have not been able to find something to treat such an illness.

Feeling the skepticism in your heart he grabs you hand, placing it to his chest, "For many years have I been searching for someone, something, anything to help you. The many trips I would take out of Inazuma I would be looking for something for you. I can understand your skepticism, but please, my love, I want to see you better." Gently kissing your hand, his eyes watering, "For naught my future is without you."

Heizou

Heizou is a smart man, always has been, but it feels as though it is all thrown out the window when you arrive. All his intellects seemingly gone, the countless times he on his own has tried to find a way to help you- all failing miserably.

Frustrated, he forgets his work wrapping himself into helping you. Hungry? He’s already cooking. Want some fresh air? He has your clothes prepared. House is getting a bit dusty? Hes already bought cleaning supplies. And as much as you appreciate the things he does you can’t help but be worried.

"Heizou?" You turn to him, a questioning look on your face.

"Yes, my dear?" He sets his book down, his gaze turning to you.

"I most appreciate the things you do, but please understand," you motion him closer, and take his hand, "I’ve noticed you haven’t been going to work as much, and I can’t help but worry you’ve been neglecting your work because of me."

His eyes soften, his kisses your hand, "I appreciate your concern. But it’s quite the opposite really. During your resting times I’m working—" he smiles, "but all from home, I had a friend of mine go out of the country, and they found something that may help you. And just like how we are now, I’ll be here."

You laugh, reaching a hand out, being his face closer to yours, giving him a gentle kiss, "Always so diligent and loving."

Thoma

Thoma is the definition of house wife. Now, of course he has his work at the estate, but every free minute is spent with him.

The awfully generous Kamisato Ayato had provided you and Thoma home in the estate in hopes we won’t overwork himself, but that’s all for naught. Thoma, the diligent, sweet boy, is always tending to everyone— but himself! Some days when he comes home you worry if he’s eaten. And as much you would like to help him you can’t. You’d be a liar is you said you didn’t feel like a burden.

Lately, Thoma has been coming home extra late. At first you thought he was busy doing some extra work, but you couldn’t help be suspicious when you noticed he would be in the study spending an awful lot of time writing letters.

One night you decided to go check up on him. Gathering all the strength you had and walking to the study, coming up behind him and steadying yourself on the desk.

"Hello, my love." You whisper in the shell of his ear.

Jumping he swivels his chair to face you, his eyes wide, but once his eyes lay upon you he relaxes, hand on his heart, "Goodness, darling. You scared me."

You smile chuckle leaning in closer, "Sorry, sweetie." He smiles, putting a hand on your jaw pulling you closer, pressing a kiss all around your face.

Smiling you pull back looking your head over to the letter, "What’s that, dear?" Gesturing your head to the paper.

He looks back, "Oh! That.. uh, I have some news." He trailed off, you nod, gently playing with his hair, "I had been sending letters to a friend of mine in Mondstadt, he said that he may know someone to stabilize your condition," his head leans into your hand, exhaling he looks into your eyes, "Would you perhaps be ok with someone coming here to help you, love?"

#genshin impact #x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #Heizou #heizou x reader #thoma #thoma x reader #Thoma is so bbg

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beaconfeels · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday✍🏻

Technically it’s Thursday now, but if I haven’t gone to bed, it doesn’t count, right? Not going to tag anyone this time since it’s too late, but here’s a little bit from the third part in my Lucky series that I’ve been working on here and there. Thanks for the tag @lucky-bishop , you wonderful human.

Stiles will live, but he’s still sick. The curse had done too much damage in the time it was able to linger, and it will take Stiles time to heal. Fortunately there doesn’t seem to be permanent damage to his organs, but he’s tired and extremely weak from weeks of barely being able to eat.

So Chris brings him home, tucks him up in their bed, and does his best not to let his worry seep into his partner as he plies him with warm broths, and fresh squeezed juices, and anything else with some nutrition that Stiles can keep down.

Peter is over often, and after the way he helped save Stiles, Chris doesn’t begrudge him it. Even if it is a bit strange to actually see Peter plant soft kisses on Stiles’s forehead, or hold his hand. They trade off shifts by Stiles’s side, even though Stiles spends the better part of his days at first sleeping.

Stiles seems to be healing, if slowly, but there’s something off. Something Chris can’t quite put his finger on, until one day Peter pulls him aside, brow furrowed.

“He smells miserable,” Peter says. “I pull any pain he has, and I think he’s healing, but he smells sad all the time. I don’t-“ he trails off, his hand coming up to tug at his own hair in an uncharacteristic show of worry and frustration.

Chris’s heart aches. Stiles is sad? He smells miserable? Jesus Christ, no wonder something has felt off. No wonder Peter’s lips have been pulled down tight the past few days. “I don’t understand,” Chris says helplessly.

Peter shrugs. “I don’t know,” he growls. “There’s something wrong. I think you should talk to him.”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Why me?”

“You’re his primary,” Peter says easily. “What you two have is solid. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in this for the long haul, but he and I are newer, and our dynamic is…different than yours. I think he’s more likely to open up to you.”

Chris hadn’t known Peter saw things that way, but it’s a nice confirmation that Peter isn’t angling to keep Stiles all to himself, that he respects what they have. “Okay,” he agrees after a moment of tense silence. “I’ll see if I can get him to tell me what’s going on. In the meantime, you should go home and get some sleep, you look like hell.”

“Gee thanks,” Peter says wryly, but he heads toward the door anyway. He pauses right before leaving though. “You’ll tell it to me straight if it’s,” He pauses and blows out a breath, “If it’s not something I want to hear, you’ll still tell me, right?”

Surprised, Chris tilts his head at him. “You’re worried this is something with you? That he’s changed his mind?”

Peter looks annoyed at his own vulnerability, but he nods curtly.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I don’t think it’s that, okay?” It’s not natural to be reassuring Peter, but the man looks so lost all of a sudden, so ready for the other shoe to drop, that he can’t help himself. “You know our boy. He doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“True,” Peter says, smiling a little. “Thank you, Christopher.”

#steter #stargent #polyamory #WIP Wednesday #my writing

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 1 year

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No Business Like Show Business | Part Five

Series Summary: you work backstage at a theatre and become close with the star of the show (who you may also have a slight crush on)

Pairing: James McAvoy x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none? a bit saucy maybe but nothing worthy of a warning...

A/N: Feel free to substitute James for any actor of your choosing. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Four | Masterlist

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I can’t believe its been two weeks since James and I started our secret relationship. Yeah, its frustrating having to sneak around but its also kinda exhilarating. Still, I’m looking forward to being able to go out on a proper date with him.

There’s only a couple of weeks left until the show opens and I’ve still got SO much left to do! Lets just say, its difficult to concentrate on props work with James around…

— — — —

James spends a lot of time hanging out with you in the props room. Any chance he gets between rehearsals, costume fittings, press interviews… he’s there. Sometimes he helps you out, finding things off shelves for you or assisting with actually making things. Sometimes you help him run through lines. But more often than not you get distracted and end up kissing like a couple of love sick teenagers.

Other than Vera, who you trust enough to tell everything to, no one else knows about you and James. Thankfully most people seem to have forgotten about the coffee shop scene. Occasionally one of the many creeps with cameras, that are constantly hanging around outside the theatre hoping for a glimpse of James, will try to question you as you walk by. But mostly they ignored you now. You were old news.

Anastasia however is still on the war path, convinced you’re trying to steal her man from her, despite the fact that James has made it very clear they are not and will not ever be together. You try to avoid her as much as possible, but when you do see her around the theatre she glares at you with such a look that you're glad looks can’t actually kill.

You even get to the theatre earlier now than you’re required to, knowing that you’ll be able to check in and get to your props room before Ana has even entered the building. It sounds silly, but you just can’t be bothered with the drama.

You flash your ID badge to security and begin your journey through the theatre, bumping into Alan on the way.

“Oh Y/N! You’re here early aren’t you?”

“Just trying to get ahead on all the work thats left to be done” you laugh awkwardly as you continue walking past him.

“Actually Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but I can never seem to find you around. I noticed you haven’t been to watch a rehearsal in a while?”

“Like I said, lots to do-”

“Yes well, I think it would be really helpful for you if you came along to see how the props are being used.” He interrupts and you have to fight not to roll your eyes at him mansplaining your own job to you “We’re doing a full run through of both acts today, I expect to see you there.”

He doesn’t wait for to you respond before walking away. You let out a deep breath, half annoyance and half dread of having to actually face Anastasia.

— — — —

The other bonus to getting in so early is that you actually have a chance to get some real work done. As much as you love the time James spends with you, you were starting to get slightly worried at how behind you’ve got.

About half an hour before the rehearsal is due to start you hear the sound of someone tapping in the security code to your door, your signal that James is coming in. You weren’t technically supposed to have told him, but since its only ever him or Vera that make the journey down to the basement you figured it was safe.

“Good morning beautiful” he says as he enters, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he drops his backpack to the floor. “How are you this fine morning?”

“You’re extra cheerful today” You say with a laugh that doesn’t quite match the expression on your face. James notices.

“You’re not.” He sits next to you, placing his hand on yours “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired” you smile a small smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re still getting here stupid early to avoid Ana?” He says and you just give him a guilty puppy look “Y/N! You're going to make yourself ill if you don’t get enough sleep. Come on, you can’t hide from her down here forever.”

“No you’re right, I can’t. Alan is forcing me to attend the run through rehearsal today so I’ve got no choice but to suffer her murderous stare all day.”

“Yeah she is good at the bitch face, I’ll give her that.” James laughs.

“Its not funny!” You say, despite laughing yourself “it’s actually quite scary being on the receiving end. I’m worried one day she’ll substitute the rubber prop knife for a real one and stab me with it.”

“Now that would be good publicity…”

“James!!” You laugh as you go to playfully push him. He grabs both your arms, pulling you onto his lap and holding you tightly. Your back against his chest as you both laugh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’d never let her hurt you…” he keeps one arm wrapped across your stomach as his other hand comes to your face. He turns your head gently so he can look you in the eye. “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

He dips you to the side slightly to give himself room to lean down and kiss you. When he eventually leans away, he pulls you back up into him and keeps you snuggled against him a little longer.

“What are you thinking?” You break the comfortable silence after a few minutes.

“Just wishing I could take you on a proper date. Go outside of this basement.”

“Oh, is my basement not good enough for you eh?” You joke as you remove yourself from his arms and get up. He catches your hand and spins you back so you're now facing him, pulling you back down so your straddling his lap.

“I’m fed up of hiding. I want to show you off to the world.”

“Thats a scary thought” you admit, draping your arms around his shoulders and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Is it?” He asks and you just nod “talk to me”

“It’s just, you have so many fans. What if they don't like me? What if they think I’m not good enough for you, or pretty enough or-”

“Hey” he says, stopping you mid spiral as he gently puts his hands on the sides of your face and moves you so he can see your eyes “Stop that okay! Look at me.” He lifts your head slightly higher making you make eye contact with him. “I don't care what anyone else thinks or says, it doesn’t matter. You are more than enough. You are perfect.”

You give him a small, teary eyed smile before kissing him again. He pulls you in deeper, one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head, his fingers entangled in your hair…

— — — —

The morning went by far too fast and now it was time to head to rehearsal. James tried to persuade you to go walking in there hand in hand with him, but you made him go ahead alone. As much as you would have loved to see the smug look wiped off Anastasia’s face, you couldn’t risk Alan turning around and threatening to remove you from the team again.

You got to rehearsal about five minutes after James, and to your relief you found Vera was already there. You took a seat next to her and she eyed you suspiciously.

“What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“Have you been to a new hair stylist? Maybe a certain hunky scottsman..?” She looks up at your hair which you instantly start smoothing down.

“Is it that obvious?” Trying to sneakily comb your hair down with your fingers as you glance around the room. Thankfully no one was watching.

“No, if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you were just a bit windswept. Blame the weather dear.” She winks and turns her attention to her notebook. You glance over at James and catch him watching you. He playfully copies you, running his hand through his own hair and you raise an eyebrow at him, shaking your head with a smirk.

“Here comes trouble” Vera’s voice pulls you away an directs your attention to the door.

When Anastasia enters the room the atmosphere changes. Everyone seems more on edge when she’s around and she knows it. And you can tell she loves it, having that kind of power over people. Alan of course is the first to rush to her side, making sure she’s okay with everything. Her eyes trace the room as he talks, glancing at every single face until she lands on yours. Immediately she turns and walks over to James, draping her arms over his shoulders and pretending to be a part of the conversation he was already having with another cast member. He turns his face ever so slightly to look in your direction but is pulled straight back by Ana who fake laughs in his face at something he said.

Its like watching a car crash happen in slow motion. You want to look away, but you just can’t help but watch.

— — — —

The first act of the rehearsal went well and annoyingly Alan was right. Watching did really help you understand what you needed to change so that some of the props would work better. You wouldn’t admit that to his face though.

Thankfully once they started acting Ana seemed to completely forget you were in the room. Up until the end of the final scene of the act, when she made eye contact with you right before leaning in to kiss James’ character. Even after the director had called the end of the scene, she gripped onto James and you could tell he was trying to pull away. She laughed it off after, claiming she just ‘really got into the scene’ but you both knew why she really did it. You deserve an Oscar for how well you hid the disgust from your face and managed to fake laugh along with everyone else.

During the break you headed into the kitchen to make a coffee. A moment later the door swung open and James poked his head in and checked his surroundings before coming inside and sneakily locking the door. He came up behind you, pressing himself into your back as his arms snaked around your waist.

“You survived the first act” he jokes and you laugh “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine are you?! I thought she was going to suck your face clean off at the end there.”

“Ugh don't put that image in my head.” He pretends to gag and you both laugh. You turn your self around in his arms so you're now leaning against the kitchen counter and facing him. “The only person I want to suck my face off is you.”

“Ew, James!” You say a bit too loud and he gently puts a finger to your mouth, shushing you but laughing too. “You're gross”

“Yeah, but you love me” he winks, moving his finger so he can instead press his lips to yours.

The sound of someone walking past the door pulls you both back to reality and he pulls away slightly but brings his hands down to lean on the counter behind you, boxing you in.

“Come to mine tonight?” He asks “If I can’t take you out on a proper date, then let me cook dinner for you at my place instead.”

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“They won’t, no one knows where I live.”

“But what about-” you start, but he cuts you off. Reaching behind you for a biscuit which he places in your mouth, making you laugh.

“Shut up and trust me.” he smiles playfully, taking another biscuit for himself before turning and unlocking the door. “I’ll text you my address. See you later beautiful.”

He blows you a kiss and leaves before you have a chance to say anything else. Vera enters just after, immediately bursting out laughing when she sees you still with a biscuit hanging out your mouth.

“You alright there love?” She asks as you remove the biscuit and place it on the counter next to your cup of coffee.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine…” you say, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. “I’ve got a date.”

taglist: @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @internetgremlin-reads @blahblahblah0987654321 @mcavoy-girl @username21mk @hehehehecigcigcigcig

#james mcavoy #james mcavoy fanfic #james mcavoy imagine #james mcavoy x reader #no business like show business #nblsb #any actor x reader #theatre #theater

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v-love · 1 year

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Tissues and Blood (Last Part)

(Dandy x GN!Reader)

Request: “heyy! so, i was thinking about a short fic where the reader is concerned about dandy’s sudden sneezing and allergic reaction through the past few days and the both find out it’s actually dandy’s dust allergies seeing as dora hasn’t been cleaning anything for our infamous man child just to spite him? I THOUGHT OF THIS RANDOMLY AND I THINK IT COULD BE RLLY CUTE? though poor dora when she gets caught though 💀”

This is the last part! I hope you guys enjoyed this mini series!! I definitely think this is my best writing yet and I wish my other two were better but that’s alright!

Warnings: Fear, mentions of blood, torture (specifically being kept in the cold, needles (sewing), mentions of knives, mentions of murder, oblivious reader, major character death implied.

Images/GIFS are not mine.

As the rain falls and the animals hide in their homes, the cold air sweeps through the town. It leaks through windows and doors of any home. Even though it was raining, people were still out and about doing their daily errands it simply just spending time with the people they love. It was interesting to say the least when Dandy assured you that he’d be fine without you the next day. He had told you that Dora needed the next week off to recover from her “worsening cold” as he described it. You didn’t think much of it since Dora had taken time off to recover from previous sicknesses.

You smile and kiss Dandy’s cheek, gently holding his face in your warm hands. “Are you sure you’ll be alright alone? I can stay home today if you want me to.” You say, your eyes shining with affection as you look up at him. “Yes my love, I can handle myself. Please be careful outside though. It’s still raining…” he says as he leans into your touch. “And anyways, I can just watch television. I haven’t been able to since I’ve had the difficulties with the allergies.” His hands come up to hold yours, kissing your knuckles gently while looking at your flushed face.

You laugh a bit and nod. “That is true. You’re awfully affectionate today…it’s adorable.” You say as you take your raincoat off of the hanger. “I’ll see you for dinner alright? Maybe I’ll bring something, don’t rely on it though.” Heading out the door and into your car under the soft rain, Dandy watches you with a smile. As you drive away, you let out a happy sigh. Thinking about how Dandy looks and must be feeling better, made you quite giddy. You make your way to work happily and quite relaxed, being innocently unaware as to what was happening in your home.

Dandy’s sweet smile fades into a sinister one, closing and locking the door. He makes his way up the stairs, thinking of all the ways he would want Dora to pay for her “sins”. Meticulously, he does his hair and shaved his face, making sure to look dashing. His hands gently smooth out his favorite shirt, adjusting the way out looked on his shoulders. Smirking at himself, he then makes his way downstairs. Quickly making himself some food, he finally makes his way outside to the garden. Even though he feels the rain slowly drench him, he stops to smell his favorite flowers. He loved them so much because you loved them, smelled like them, looked like them. The rain starts to fall harder as he makes his way slowly to the shed, his mind slowly losing control over his calm demeanor.

Dora shakes viciously from how cold she was, her lips softly bruised from the cold seeping through the wood of the shed. She knew Dandy was out there and she knew he was going to kill her. She thought about her family, how much she would miss them, how much she loved them, how much she wanted to see them again, even if it was for the last time. Her thoughts were interrupted from the door being pushed open. Her eyes squint from the sudden brightness in the dark shed, looking up. Dandy’s soaking form stands in front of her, breathing heavily from how cold it felt. She starts to cry as he takes slow, agonizing steps towards her.

“Oh no, don’t cry now. It’s too late to try and make me feel guilty.” He says as he leans in, his hot breath slightly warming her cheeks. “You have to pay for your stupidity.” He yanks the gag off of her and watches her cry, pleading as her voice breaks over and over again. “I told you to not scream. I told you no one would hear you. You knew no one would hear you and yet…you still wanted to scream. You did scream.” She watches in horror as a sick smile twists on his face as he grabs hers. “Do you know what I do to people who don’t take my advice? Don’t listen?” Her hot tears spill from her eyes and makes Dandy’s hand glisten a bit more. “I kill them.” He whispers in her ear before pushing her tied down body back, making her fall and hit her head against the back wall of the shed. She lets out a broken groan as Dandy picks her up, carrying her into the house. She loses consciousness as he lays her on the kitchen counter.

Dandy watches as her body loses the little fight it had left. He wanted to start with something simple, shutting her mouth up. He quickly gets his spare sewing kit, making his way back to her while thinking. He hums as he chooses the color for the string he wanted to use. He settles on her favorite color and makes sure the string is strongly attached to the needle. His hands move her hair from her face and he wipes away any tears or blood from her chapped lips. Dandy’s face lightens with a smile as he begins to sew her mouth shut.

Dora suddenly wakes up alone and cold. Her head was pounding and her lips were in pain. When she tries to speak, her lips don’t move and a searing pain shoots through then, making her stop trying. She hears Dandy come in and watches as he smiles in delight. “You’re awake! How wonderful! I wanted to show you how good you look like this!” He moves towards her with a hand held mirror, letting her see herself. Her eyes were red and there were a few gashes on her cheek. As her eyes shift to look at her lips, her breathing stops in shock. Her lips were swollen and sewed shut. Tears well up in her eyes as she looks from the mirror to Dandy. “Isn’t it great? I used your favorite color, though it turned red because of your blood. Nonetheless, you look great!” He smiles brightly at her and pulls out his knife, chucking evilly. “Now it’s time for my favorite part! Where should I start?”

Arriving home, your eyes droop as you walk through the door. “Dandy?” You call out, peeling off your wet shoes and hearing soft footsteps from the stairs. “My love! I missed you!” He says as he dries his shake with a towel. You smile and see how warm her looks in his fluffy robe. “I missed you too, very tired though.” He kisses your forehead and holds you close, warming up your shivering form. “I made dinner and washed up. Why don’t you do the same? You’re so cold.” He suggests and watches you nod, taking your things with you as you walk up the stairs.

Dandy sighs happily as he sets the table, hearing you come back from washing up and dressing warmly. “Did you plant something in the garden? I saw the dirt looking a bit strange when I was looking out the window.” You ask him. “I did! Some new flowers, I think you’ll love them when they grow.” He says as he pulls out your chair before placing your plate of food in front of you. “It stopped raining for a few hours over here so I thought, why not?” He kisses your head before sitting with you. “I’m sure I will! This looks delicious! You made my favorite.” You say happily and begin to rest, listening to him lie about his day. You didn’t know of course and it was going to stay that way.

Until Dora’s family comes looking for her.

And that’s the end! I hope you enjoyed this mini series and if you did, a like a reblog would be most appreciated! If you have any requests, please send them in! Make them as detailed as you want so I can curate them how you want!! Thank you again!

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please let me know in the asks!!

Taglist: @evanpetersfav @yes-divine-ruler @ghastlyfilters

#ahs fanfic #ahs freakshow #american horror story #dandy mott #dandy mott ahs #dandy mott fic #dandy mott series #dandy mott x gn reader #dandy mott x reader #dandy mott angst

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mothgodofchaos · 1 year

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Confession

Tumblr is real against me posting this today, apparently! This was originally an anon request, apologies to that anon as tumblr ate that fucking post. The original request was a Werewolf!Reader, but I found it much easier to just make them both vampires. Fourth time's the charm!

Vampire!Damien x Vampire!GN!Reader, TW: blood Words: 979

You tried avoiding Damien throughout the office whenever you were having cravings. Having him close was nice, but there were too many close calls, when he got too close. He started following you more, which meant more excuses as to why you couldn’t go out with him. I mean, how were you supposed to be able to eat safely without risking him or his relationship with you? Would he even understand?

It’s been a constant struggle trying to consume in private, trying to restrain yourself from feeding off of him. A brush of the hand would send your undead pulse racing, biting your tongue in order to stop your fangs from popping out. He seemed oblivious, although sometimes he seemed to be actively teasing you, as if he knew. And he simply didn’t care.

That on top of wrestling with your romantic feelings for him just, caused you to draw away. You’d give him a brief wave in the hallway, clutching your papers to your chest, speed walking past him. You started hiding in your office more, taking the night shift. Truly being reduced to your primal nature, creeping away to go feed from your donors.

And it was quiet, heartbreakingly enough so. You missed his cheerful laughter, that gorgeous smile, the smile that he put on for you, not the mask that he gave for the crowds. It was softer around the edges, a twinkle in his eyes, his pearly white teeth that he kept in pristine condition. All of that had to stay away, away at a distance, because you were starting to lose your own self control.

That was, until he showed up at your door. With flowers, and soup. You open the door to that smile again, the glimmer in his eyes that reflected the star he was looking at. You welcomed him in, trying to hide yourself in the hoodie you were wearing. Hiding the mark as you fumbled with your clothes, you watch as he places the things he brought in the kitchen.

“Damien, wha- why are you here?”

“You’re avoiding me, you look sick, and I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“I’m fine, you should leave, so you don’t catch it from me…”

“I can guarantee I won’t get sick. In fact, I came here to take care of you. I’ve already taken off work, and already cleared the sick days with your office.”

You freeze, wrapped up in your blanket. You can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, avoiding his gaze as you struggle to maintain your composure. You hadn’t eaten in several days, and while the soup was thoughtful, you knew you wouldn’t be able to eat it.

“Damien, please, I can’t have you here right now-”

“Why not? Why are you avoiding me? Have I done something wrong?”

“No! Now, please, Damien…”

“You’ve already welcomed me in, and this is how you treat me? You’ve been holding yourself up in your office for weeks, never come out anymore… I mean, you started taking the night shift! When do you even sleep?”

“I’m sleeping fine…”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Especially with you avoiding looking at me, did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

You freeze again, your heart aching for a moment. You couldn’t confess, not either of the things, not now, you’re not strong enough. You try to step away, moving towards your bedroom at the back of the house, when his arm blocks you from continuing, leaning you back against him.

“There we go, you haven’t eaten, have you? Darling, I see the way you look at me. You’re torn. I promise, you won’t hurt me.”

“Wha-”

He moves in, speaking right into your ear as his fangs brush against the outside of your ear.“Your eyes glow red when you look at me, my little monster. It’s rather adorable~”

You don’t move, eyes wide and darting about as you try and ignore his breath on your neck, but something doesn’t want this to end. You start piecing together things in your mind, realizing he must also be a vampire as well. The smile you adore, the glint of his fangs, you had brushed it off before. He smiled that only for you, the one he trusted.

“Darling, I brought you some food, from my personal supply. You need to find better donors.”

“Y-you’re not mad…?”

“Mad? No, I just hoped that the only thing I would have to get you to confess is the crush you’ve had on me for a while.”

You’re sure your face would’ve gone red if you had eaten recently. He guides you back to the couch, wrapping you up in blankets as he gets some blood in a mug for you, handing it to you as you drink slowly. It was slowly filling, the color showing back up on your skin, looking more human, less physically fatigued. You leaned onto him in your exhaustion, struggling to stay awake as your body was no longer busied with hunger pangs.

“There we go, much better, my little monster~”

“How long have you known?”

“Since you were turned, usually the turner teaches the turned how to live as a vampire, but it seems like yours abandoned you. They will be taken care of, but until then, I only care about you being taken care of. Please, darling, let me stay.”

You look up at him, head resting on his shoulder. His smile, your smile, is soft on his lips, but his fangs peeked out from behind his lips slightly. He brushes the hair out of your face, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Please…”

“I would gladly have you stay over.”

“Good, because I’m not leaving until you’re all better.”

“I knew you were going to say that…”

“You love me, I know you do~”

“Maybe I do~”

#damien #wkm damien #damien x reader #damien markiplier #wkm damien x reader #mayor damien x reader #gn!reader #paranormal egos #vampire!damien x reader #vampire!reader #meek mayor #chaoswrites #chaosanswers

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peaceoutofthepieces · 2 years

Note

Heartstopper prompt -

Ben makes a mean comment about Charlie’s body in recovery and he struggles with relapsing

first off, happy three months of heartstopper, and thank you so much for 2k followers!? i would love to do a celebration but don’t know how, so if anyone has any thoughts let me know <3 and for now i have this.

this took me way longer than initially planned because i initially wasn’t sure whether to write it or not—it’s a tone i haven’t written in a really long time, and i didn’t want to do it wrong! i can’t speak from experience in this case, but i tried to be as thoughtful and authentic as i believe alice is, and i hope i’ve done okay. but if i haven’t, especially in these instances, please feel free to tell me!

safe to say, warnings for depictions of charlie’s eating disorder and ocd, and thoughts and mentions of self-harm. this tone is more solitaire-like and less fluffy and dialogue-heavy like my other fics (at least for the first half). i want to clarify no actual self-harm occurs, but if you do read, please do so with care.

also, it’s over 6k. fair warning.

~^~

Charlie wasn’t that upset that his plan of moving to Higgs was trashed by the school burning down. Really. He meant what he’d said, about staying with Nick, and it being fine. The upside to it was that he was now already going to school with Tori and all of his friends, anyway. It also brought people back, like Elle, and Michael Holden, who Charlie could now probably say was also his friend.

It also meant Ben Hope.

The return of his presence shouldn’t have been a big deal. Charlie was planning to switch to Higgs knowing Ben was there, because it still felt like the lesser evil. Now with the schools merging, Truham had to step up from its hellhole slightly. Now, at Truham, the people Charlie wanted to get away from suddenly had more interesting people to bother, and the people he’d wanted to escape to were all here.

Plus Nick, and Tao, and Aled.

But mostly Nick.

It should have been an improvement, really. A better outcome than he’d even initially hoped for. Easier to handle all around.

Maybe it was still the toxicness of Truham. Charlie had never given much thought to why Ben left (though he assumed it was likely at-least-in-part due to him), but he imagined having to come back would mess with your head, if you’d been trying to escape like he’d planned to. (Michael mostly confirmed this for him. Having Tori and ‘acquaintances like Nick Nelson’ around him now apparently helped. Charlie could understand that part.)

He realised he’d just never fully thought about having to pass Ben in the hallways again, or to catch sight of him across the courtyard.

Or to have Ben looking back.

“He knows better than to do anything more,” Nick had said, a little darkly (venomously) with his arm wrapped around Charlie at some point in the first week, when Ben had made the mistake of catching his eye. “If he says one word or comes within ten feet, I swear to God.”

Charlie had murmured platitudes and felt silently sick, but he’d believed Nick was right, for a while.

But Truham was only so big, and it was impossible to ignore anyone forever—especially if they wanted to be noticed.

And Ben had never been able to accept Charlie’s attempts to ignore him.

It didn’t even seem intentional, at first. Charlie didn’t even think any of the boys surrounding the bench knew he was there, right within hearing distance. He’d thought he’d heard his name, in those quiet, scandalised, gossipy tones that had covered it in the past few months since he came back to school. Then he caught more of the conversation, and he knew he’d heard it, amidst claims of it’s not like he can hide it, just look at him and it doesn’t even make sense though and yeah, he hardly thinks he’s fat, does he? like, what’s the point?, and then he caught the more familiar voice, and all his attempts to block it out shattered.

“I’d be more concerned about how Nelson’s brain works. Hugging a sack of ribs would be bad enough, but he looks like he’d snap in half if you bent him over. Bit of a weird turn on, innit?”

There were quiet, half-embarrassed snickers mingled with outright laughter and a few jeers. Ben’s self-satisfied smirk was unsurprising to Charlie even before Ben’s gaze swiveled directly to him.

Charlie sucked in a breath, and his fight-or-flight instinct finally overrode the frozen mode he was in. He chose, obviously, to flee. It didn’t matter that he’d mean planning to meet Nick so they could go home together, because Nick didn’t know that. Charlie could spin on his heel and run to his bus, and no one would think anything was amiss. So he did.

Objectively, Charlie knew what was starting to spin in his brain was wrong. Objectively, he knew Ben was an asshole and his words were meant to hurt Charlie and that didn’t mean they meant anything. Objectively, he knew Nick loved him and that Nick would give a list of ways he found Charlie attractive if asked, and he knew that Nick enjoyed hugs generally, but especially with Charlie. Objectively—realistically—he knew he wouldn’t actually snap in half very easily.

Objectively, Charlie knew Ben’s words never really meant anything and Ben wasn’t in control of him.

But, maybe because Charlie’s brain didn’t care about being objective, or maybe because it was Ben, it didn’t matter what meager rationalisations he could come up with. He suddenly felt he had no control over himself, precisely because he’d made control the centre of everything.

It hadn’t actually gotten him anything he wanted, had it?

He could take control, and he would take up less space, and he would have less needs, and he wouldn’t feel as bad when he was being annoying and pathetic and undeserving. That was what he’d always thought. That was how it always felt.

But he had ended up, really, with even more needs. Taking up more spaces. Beyond annoying, pityingly pathetic, so far below undeserving. He was a fool, to think he was in charge of it. He’d made himself ugly, he’d made himself sickly, he’d made himself weak. That was what he’d done, with all his control.

It had been too much, waiting for the harm to come from somewhere else, and it was always better, once he took matters into his own hands, once he admitted it was the most he deserved, that his lack of strength in ignoring everything going in should of course result in a little pain getting it out.

It had been too much, holding all the ugliness on the inside. He’d meant to let it out.

He hadn’t meant for it to cover him instead.

That hadn’t been his choice, not really.

He’d never been in control.

And now he had even less strength than before.

This is what he managed to think through on the bus, which meant by the time he got home, he’d turned to thinking, I can change that. I can make a different choice. I’m in control of what I do.

He went straight to the kitchen when he got home, coat and shoes and bag abandoned in the hallway and mind racing and channeled and determined. He went for the cupboards.

It wasn’t time to eat, but he wasn’t looking for anything on his plan, anyway. He grabbed the bread, and set it on the counter, and stared at it.

Bread was filling. Bread was fattening. Bread didn’t have all that much of a flavour—he had a lot of choice in what he could put with it. Charlie had seen Nick wolf down slice after slice of bread, toasted or as a sandwich or both, in a matter of minutes, and it was both soft and sturdy, and so was Nick. And it wasn’t unhealthy. He would get some nutrients out of it, and it wasn’t greasy, or slimy, or overly chewy, or even that big, really. Toast, and sandwiches, and even soup paired with one mere slice had all filtered into his meal plans before. And this was brown bread, and that was healthier. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it.

But the thought of taking out a slice and doing anything with it, of biting into it, of it slipping down his throat and settling into his stomach, felt very, very far from right.

That was fine. It wasn’t the only option. He could find something else, something a little healthier, something he liked a little more, that still held some weight, that he didn’t really need to take much of. He could find a few things, and then figure out which was best.

He ended up emptying the cupboard, then moving to the next, then the next, until he had all his options lined out on the counters, vaguely organised by what seemed preferable, and what he’d get the most out of it.

Maybe he should check the fridge. Maybe having something to pair them with would help. Maybe he could find something light, but nutritious, something that was bulky but didn’t feel like it, that he could eat on its own. Something cool, and smooth, that would slip down easy.

Once most of the contents of the fridge were organised on the counter, he still hadn’t made up his mind.

He tried the freezer.

Then he realised he had everything organised by what seemed most beneficial and least undesirable, but it would be easier to decide if all those things were organised together rather than by cupboard, fridge, and freezer, and he made new stacks, and made those stacks into new bundles.

His hands were wet and chilly from holding damp and frozen packaging, and that was transferring onto cardboard boxes and plastic-sheet coverings and making them soggy and slippy, which was making his stomach churn, which was making even the least undesirable options still seem not-at-all desirable.

Like him, he supposed.

He stared at what he’d done and curled his arms around his stomach, and they curled too far, so he had to drop them and cover his mouth to swallow the sob-whine-gag building in him, and the touch against his lips made his skin prickle, so he had to grip his hair and press in and pull to get himself together, and all he could think about was each tip of his finger pressing a hard point into his skull, bone against bone.

Was that what Nick felt, every time he touched him?

Hugging a sack of ribs would be bad enough.

It made Charlie want to be sick.

But quickly taking over from the self-pity was the fear.

He’d basically emptied his kitchen. For nothing. Everything was out in the open, softening and heating and defrosting; being destroyed, for nothing. The thought of any of it in his stomach, laying and churning and rotting, was too much to even consider.

And he couldn’t remember where everything went.

He’d taken everything from everywhere. He’d kept moving them around. Everything that was now damp, and soggy, and softening, and defrosting, and rotting, and in the wrong place. How had it been organised? Where had the rest of his family, with their normal brains, had everything? He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure he paid enough attention to know in the first place.

But Tori cooked. His parents cooked. His parents did the shopping. They would know.

They would come back—any time now—and they would see, and they would know. Charlie had no way of preventing it. He had no way of covering it. He had absolutely no control over what they would think or say or do about it.

He dragged his tightly clutched fists out to the ends of his hair, both so his hands were no longer in direct contact with his head and so the pull elicited a slight sting over his scalp. His hands shook. It bordered on too much. His pulse pounded. It was nowhere near enough.

The thing was, his family wouldn’t care so much, if it meant something. If it could be taken as progress. If he took everything, something that was softening or defrosting or rotting and saved it; if he ate something. If it meant he’d at least get some bulk around his bones, like he’d been planning to. Like he’d convinced himself he was going to, that there was a chance that he could.

It would be easier, he thought, to open up his skin and rearrange his flesh. It wasn’t the usual motivator, but it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch. It became all too tempting the more his hands shook and his scalp stung and his skin prickled, all of his body too sharp, too tight, too much.

How could he put everything back right, in time? Where did everything go? How much could he get wrong without really making anyone notice?

If he put everything back, it was further proof he’d failed without even trying. He’d made it this far—everything was set out, everything was organised, and in place, and ready. He’d done all the work to get this far. He couldn’t just put it back. He had to get rid of the evidence. He had to do it quickly.

His skin was too tight and he wanted it off.

Please, he thought. Please let me out.

“Charlie?”

The front door shut over the tail-end of Nick’s call, and Charlie made a strangled noise, and leaped for the door. He threw his weight against it—all the little there was of it, and it was too much, the door banging and the footsteps in the hall coming to a stop.

“Charlie?” Nick tried again. “You down here?”

The steps got closer, and Charlie swallowed another strangled sound, and snatched at the door handle as soon as it moved. “Don’t come in here,” he blurted.

He was holding onto the handle with all his strength, but he was wasting it—it had gone utterly still.

Nick’s voice was right there, now, but Charlie didn’t think that was what quietened it. “Charlie?”

Charlie held the handle tighter and stared at where the packet of bread was beginning to slip off the packets of ham and cheese.

“What are you doing, Char?” Nick asked, and Charlie felt pressure on the handle again. Nick’s voice was right there, and it sounded like it was coming to Charlie through a dozen dams and an ocean of water. But that might’ve just been the wobble in it. “Charlie, let me in.”

“Don’t,” Charlie gasped, automatic again. His hands were already starting to sweat and slip, and it intensified the buzz along the rest of his skin. It wouldn’t ease, no matter how much he shifted and shuffled and shivered it out of him. “It’s—I’m fine. Just don’t. Leave me a while.”

The handle jiggled in his hand. He pressed himself against the door as he felt it starting to press back.

Nick’s voice was even closer, and ragged. “No, Char. What are you doing? I’m not leaving. Can you let me in?”

Charlie shook his head—too sharp, too much—and it swam, and Nick couldn’t even see it. “Don’t,” he repeated, almost a sob.

“Charlie,” Nick said—stronger now, even with the wobble. Always strong, and steady, and more than enough, and never too much. Charlie’s hands slackened. “Charlie, please let me—I’m coming in, okay? I need you to open the door, because I’m coming in. I really don’t want to hurt you, but I have to come in, so I need you to open the door. Please, Charlie.”

Charlie couldn’t. Couldn’t open the door. Couldn’t ignore the crack that snuck through the wobble in Nick’s voice. Couldn’t ignore Nick. Couldn’t let anyone see. Couldn’t tell Nick no. The bread slid from its perch. It toppled the carefully organised stack to its right. Charlie let go of the door and buried his hands back in his hair. Nick opened the door and came in.

Charlie had already paced over to where the bread had fallen, had taken ham and biscuits and frozen pies with it and drawn something like a low, long whine from his throat. By the time Nick was in the room, he was backing against the island and beginning a slow slide to the floor.

He could do nothing but watch Nick watch. He saw as Nick’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, as he looked over the mess Charlie had made, and the mess that Charlie himself was. As his face screwed back up into something frantic and fearful and his steps never faltered. “God, what have you done?” he asked, making it to Charlie as Charlie made it to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, no more than a panicked breath. Then, understanding, “I didn’t.”

He wasn’t sure Nick heard him. “Jesus, Charlie, you can’t do that,” Nick said, and he wasn’t angry. Charlie knew he wasn’t angry, that the most Nick ever got towards being angry with him were the occasional tired or hurt twists of frustration. It wasn’t anger that made Nick’s voice wobble and crack as he crouched down in front of Charlie, because Nick wasn’t angry, he was terrified. And that was worse. “Charlie, God, let me see.”

Charlie rapidly shook his head and brandished his hands at Nick, empty and clean and unharmed, and repeated, “I didn’t, I didn’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t, I’m really sorry.”

Some of the terror slipped away in favour of softness, and then Nick was there. His hands touched Charlie’s cheeks, his fingertips trails of warmth at the edge of Charlie’s hair where moments before Charlie’s own touch had felt like ice, so coldly sharp that it caused physical pain.

“Hey, no s-word,” Nick chided—somewhat automatically, Charlie thought—as he let out a slow breath. “It’s okay, we’re okay. I didn’t mean to panic you. I’m sorry, it’s okay.”

Charlie released his hair and leaned his face into Nick’s hands, letting his own grip at the air instead. His breath came quick and rattling, but as Nick shushed him, some of the din in his head quietened. “I didn’t,” Charlie repeated, unable, apparently, to say anything else. In a whisper, he added, “I want to.”

Nick’s face shuttered again, and though Charlie was expecting it, he hated himself for it. But Nick only took another slow breath, and briefly gripped Charlie’s cheeks harder. Charlie finally settled his hands on Nick’s biceps as his eyes watered, and Nick took the invitation and wrapped him up in a tight hold.

“Did something happen?” Nick asked softly, voice muffled from where his mouth was pressed to Charlie’s hair and Charlie’s ear was pressed to Nick’s chest. Charlie clutched him more tightly, and felt him sigh after a moment’s silence. “You’re safe, Char. I’ve got you now.”

Charlie swallowed the sob building in him. Lingering panic still prickled all over. His body buzzed with the familiar sensation of wrongness. Part of him wanted to peel himself out of Nick’s arms and shove him away. To hide, to finish what he’d been doing, to continue tearing himself apart, piece by piece. He shoved that away instead.

It was weak. But he didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to fight, because he was safe, and he could fall down, because Nick would hold him up.

Because Nick was strong. Because he was healthy, and normal.

“I can’t remember where they go,” Charlie said, his voice cracking this time. “I can’t put them back properly.”

A brief pause, then an, “Oh.” Charlie felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “It’ll be okay.”

Suddenly, Charlie was glad it was Nick. It didn’t matter that an hour ago he’d turned tail to avoid seeing Nick, or that thirty minutes ago he would have done anything to prevent Nick from seeing him. It only mattered that it wasn’t worse. Charlie wasn’t sure what his mother would have said or done, if she’d been the one to find him in this state, and he honestly didn’t want to ponder on it—tried not to, lest it sent him into a new panic.

But he knew exactly what it was like to do that to Tori.

His annoying big sister, the only other person in the world who was never truly angry with him, the only person in the world whose love Charlie didn’t doubt for a second. Tori, who Charlie could never be angry with and who he loved unconditionally, who took all of Charlie’s pain atop her own and never once blamed him for it.

Tori, who Charlie had seen hurting just as much, and who he only ever managed to hurt more.

God, where was Oliver? How careless could Charlie still be?

“I need to fix it,” Charlie said, urgent now. “I don’t want them to—they can’t—“

Charlie broke off, and Nick held him tighter, and Charlie was so glad it was Nick.

“You don’t want them to know,” Nick finished for him. He sighed again, a breath in Charlie’s ear with their temples touching. Nick pressed against him a little harder, then rolled his head gently, so they were forehead to forehead. “I think it would be better if they did, but I won’t be the one to tell them. You need to call Geoff, though.”

Charlie’s stomach churned again, both with how frustrated and nervous the mere thought made him and with how unfailingly understanding and kind Nick was. So strong and still so soft.

What attracted him to Charlie, who was neither?

“I will,” he managed, in response to Nick’s gentle order. He couldn’t look at him, this close, but he could feel it when Nick nodded in response, and that was almost better.

“Alright,” Nick said, giving Charlie one more gentle squeeze before slowly shifting away and getting to his feet. “We need to get everything back in the freezer, first, then. Actually, we can do dinner as we go. What’s on your plan tonight, again?”

Now Charlie stared up at him. The buzz along his skin bordered on debilitating as it spread into his ears. Nick was understanding. Nick knew him better than anyone. He thought Nick understood. “Nick,” he choked. “It’s not—I can’t.”

Nick was already shaking his head, looking down at Charlie, still without a hint of anger or pity. “I’m not making you do anything, Char, promise. But it’s been helping, sticking to the plan. Right? So I’m just going to do that, okay?”

Nick was right. Charlie knew that. The plan had been helping. Even if he couldn’t always manage to go through with it, sticking to it held some element of comfort—some small sense of strength. It wouldn’t help to disrupt it.

But there was a pressure that came with it that Charlie couldn’t always handle. Now felt like one of those times.

“I can’t sit and do that,” he whispered. “That’ll upset them even more, and—”

“You don’t have to,” Nick promised. “We’re going to hang out in your room. And I’ll bring it up, and you can have some if you want to, or don’t. And you can tell me what‘s up, or not. Is that…does that sound manageable?”

Charlie caught on. He could see it, now, lingering on the outskirts of Nick’s puffed chest and soft smiles. His hands fidgeted at his sides, curling and fluttering and tapping, and his wide eyes remained worried where they gazed down at Charlie. Nick couldn’t fix this. They’d both always known that. Charlie had always known that this frustrated Nick more than him. Nick could only do—well, what he could.

Even if that was just sticking to the plan.

Charlie nodded, and the ringing in his ears receded as relief rounded Nick’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Nick said, with a bit more surety. “Then this stuff really needs to go back in the freezer, and you need to get chatting to Geoff.”

It could have felt pushy, and like too much of an order, but all Charlie could notice was how Nick didn’t touch any of his carefully arranged food until he’d picked himself up and left the room. It was a more generous compromise than he deserved.

Especially given he didn’t actually chat to Geoff. He pulled out his phone and planned to, but the more he thought about hitting the call button, the more his hands shook. He ended up tapping the message icon instead, which was a compromise he hoped Nick would be okay with.

Hi, Geoff. I wanted to know if I could maybe make an earlier appointment than planned?

This was better—kinder—than simply ringing his therapist out of the blue, anyway. The man had his own life, and while he told Charlie he could call him at any time if it was ever necessary, Charlie knew no one could be available twenty-four-seven. Surely, Nick would see the logic in this as well. There was a chance Geoff wouldn’t even reply to him this evening.

His phone buzzed in less than a minute, but that slim chance had existed.

Of course, Charlie. When were you thinking? I’m free for you to give me a call now if you feel it’s in any way urgent.

Charlie blew out a breath, shaking his head slightly. But that alone made him feel a little better.

No, that’s okay. Nick’s here now. It’s not that urgent.

Tomorrow, then? I have a slot right after you’d be finished up with school.

That works. Thank you.

Call me before then if you need to!

A small smile tweaked at Charlie’s lips as another breath escaped him, just as Nick nudged through the door with two plates in hand. He paused at the sight of Charlie with his phone still in hand, a tentative smile taking over his own face. “Did you talk to him?”

Charlie hesitated, and eventually just turned his phone around to show Nick. “I can’t ring, but, I’m going to see him tomorrow?”

Nick quickly read over the messages—softening, likely at the sight of his own name—and nodded his acceptance, though a small furrow formed in his brow. “Will you be okay until then? Is it…I mean, you don’t have to go to school tomorrow.”

“I should.” Charlie shook his head. “I will. It’s not that bad, honestly.”

Nick tucked one of the plates on a free spot on Charlie’s desk, where it became mostly unnoticeable. He settled onto Charlie’s bed with the other on his lap and a concerned, disbelieving look.

Charlie knew it would slip right off his face if he just sat down, picked one thing off the plate, and took a single bite.

He couldn’t, though.

So he sat down and curled his arms around one of Nick’s, and tucked his face against Nick’s shoulder. “I’ll have to tell my parents something, since I’ve moved my appointment.”

Nick relaxed minutely. “Yeah. Well, probably better. I wasn’t as lost as I could’ve been, but I’d say I still made a right mess of your kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He was jostled by Nick’s shrug. “Well, even I don’t want to eat defrosted chicken, so yes, I definitely did.”

Charlie picked his head up enough to see Nick smiling at him, and he couldn’t resist covering those lips with his own.

Something in him unraveled when Nick kissed him back. Something about the way Nick instinctively cupped Charlie’s cheek and parted his lips, and how he managed to set his plate safely aside without disconnecting from Charlie or opening his eyes. Something in the soft, hitched noise he made when Charlie wove a hand into his hair, and how he kissed Charlie a little more thoroughly in response.

Charlie responded in kind and then some. Even with his skin buzzing and his ears ringing and his stomach still tumbling, he kissed Nick hungrily. It was the only way he could ever describe it. This was sustenance his brain never fought against.

Then he was thinking sack of ribs and bone against bone and turn-on, and kissing Nick harder, and Nick was pulling back.

“Charlie, take a breath,” Nick said softly, cupping Charlie’s face in his hands.

Charlie’s heart fell. “You don’t want to kiss me.”

Stupid, stupid idiot. Can you honestly blame him?

Nick smiled, and it wasn’t sad or pitying. It was bright and bashful and unbearably fond, that heartstopping half-tilt which was accompanied by a faint blush. “I always want to kiss you,” he said simply; not a reassurance, but an admittance. He brushed back Charlie’s curls and proved his point by kissing Charlie’s forehead, his cheeks, and his lips, brief but lingering, and Charlie’s heart floated back into place. “But right now I want you to be okay more.”

His smile softened, and his thumb stroked over Charlie’s cheek, and Charlie hiccuped and hid himself in Nick’s chest. Nick adjusted instantly, wrapping his arms around Charlie and petting through his hair.

“I’d prefer to kiss you when you actually want to kiss me,” Nick added, tentatively. “Like, for real, I mean. And not for…not to…”

“I always want to kiss you,” Charlie answered, fast and forceful, because he suddenly realised. And he could not let Nick think anything like that. “I love kissing you, because I love you.”

Nick’s hand rubbed broadly down his back, big and warm and strong, and Charlie was caught between melting under the touch and curling away. “Yeah. Me too.” He kissed the top of Charlie’s head, and wrapped his arms around him fully again. “So much.”

Charlie’s shoulders hunched slightly. “You’re right, though. I shouldn’t be kissing you to make myself feel better. Even though it always does make me feel better.”

“Magic kisses,” Nick readily agreed, his chin ruffling Charlie’s hair as he nodded.

“And I really shouldn’t be when you don’t want to.”

Nick’s arms tightened, and Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. “I really always want to, Char. Like, probably more than is actually healthy. I just…don’t like not being sure it’s for the right reasons. The thought of doing anything like that to you…I just—well, sometimes a hug just feels better. Just like this.”

“But it can’t feel good. Hugging me,” Charlie whispered.

“What?” Nick sounded baffled, but Charlie couldn’t explain. He didn’t think he would have to, and wasn’t prepared. Eventually, Nick accepted the silence and answered for himself. “Charlie, hugging you is essentially my favourite thing to do. I would never stop hugging you for the rest of my life if that was in any way practical. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

“But…me,” Charlie tried. “Don’t I feel…isn’t it like…” He groaned in frustation, and tried starting from scratch. “Your hugs are the best thing ever because they’re big, and warm, and strong, but I’m just…I’m not any of those things. I don’t even know how this is comfortable, for you.”

There was a drawn-out pause, in which Charlie waited for Nick to say, Actually, you have a point, and let him go, but then Nick let out a punched-sounding breath. “Charlie. It’s not because—you think—your body—you think it’s uncomfortable to hug you?”

Charlie’s shoulders hunched a little higher, and Nick gave another of those breaths, and squeezed Charlie even tighter.

“I can promise you you’re completely wrong. That’s not how it works at all. You’re incredibly cud—cuddleable?—huggable. And we fit perfectly. Do you not think so?”

Of course, Charlie thought, instantly. Dreamily, all the time.

But what he said was, “It makes you sad, though.”

“What?”

Charlie wasn’t going to pretend Nick’s question was because he hadn’t heard the whispered concern. The utter bafflement had returned to Nick’s tone. Charlie was sure it was about to get worse, once he tried to explain. “You always hold me tighter midway through.”

“You think I don’t enjoy hugging you, because every time I do, I always hug you tighter?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Charlie said.

“I’m not!” Nick squeezed him again, and he truly didn’t sound like he was joking. “I promise I’m not. I’m trying to understand, but I think it’s you who needs to do that. I mean, just listen to what you’re saying, Char.”

Charlie insisted, “You know what I’m trying to say, though.”

“I think I do. I think your brain is doing that thing where it thinks itself in circles and tells you things that are wrong. Am I right?”

Charlie’s shoulders slumped, and Nick rubbed his back again.

“I thought so,” Nick murmured. “I know I can’t stop it, but I promise I won’t stop reminding you what’s true.”

“And what’s that?” Charlie prodded, sounding as small as he felt.

Nick was more prepared. “I love you, and I always want to kiss you because I fancy you more than I’ve ever fancied anybody, and hugging you is so inarguably my favourite thing that I would gladly never stop. And that all I want is for you to be healthy and safe and as happy as you can be, because I care about you and you deserve it, more than anything.”

Charlie’s eyes watered again, and automatically, in some awe, he answered, “So do you. I love you too.”

“Well, that works out then, ‘cause I’m never safer or happier than when I’m with you.”

If possible, Charlie’s awe expanded. “You feel safe with me?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, as if it was obvious. “Ever since I’ve known you. How do you think I realised I loved you so much? Everything’s so much easier with you than it is with anyone else.”

The tears in Charlie’s eyes spilled over. “Oh.”

Nick hummed, and pressed another kiss to the top of Charlie’s head, and gave Charlie another squeeze. Charlie tried to reconcile this information with what his brain had been telling him an hour prior. He knew that he was safe with Nick—no one, not even Tori, was as comfortable and easy for Charlie to simply be with as Nick. Nick had been there to take care of Charlie ever since they met; and Charlie knew he hadn’t made it easy. It would’ve been impossible for Charlie not to feel safe with him. To feel that Nick was steady and supportive and strong enough to make Charlie safe.

And Charlie knew that he would do absolutely anything for Nick. Regardless of his own state, he would try to take care of Nick in whatever way possible, any time it was needed. And he knew that he had been a comfort for Nick, more than once, for numerous different reasons. But it was also impossible to think Nick needed him as much as he needed Nick. That, with all his flaws and faults, he could incite those same feelings in response.

That he wasn’t just dragging Nick, who was too nice for his own good, along on his miserable ride.

“So you’re not—you don’t…hold back because it makes you sad or freaks you out or—or grosses you out and makes you feel like—like you’ll break me, or something—”

“Char,” Nick interrupted, sounding distraught. “Do I make you feel like that? Because that’s not what I think at all—you’re the strongest person I know, like, that’s why I admire you so much, and I really never thought I was treating you like—”

Charlie finally mustered the will to pull away and look up at Nick. He put his hand on Nick‘s chest, and felt grateful that Nick kept him in his hold. “You don’t. You’re right. It’s not…I guess, this isn’t really about you? But it made me think…I don’t know.”

Nick shook his head. “You don’t have to explain.” I’m used to it, Charlie expected him to add. But—of course—he didn’t. “Of course, I’d like you to, if you want, but I know it usually isn’t something you can really express, and that’s okay. You don’t owe me anything, and especially not reassurance, or anything like that. I just want to know how I can help. If there’s any way I can, that is. And I hope it isn’t—I hope I haven’t done something to trigger it. I honestly…I can’t tell you how sorry I am if I did.”

“No, you didn’t, I promise.” Charlie curled his hand in Nick’s shirt and looked down again. “Honestly, it wasn’t something I was even aware upset me until today—” Charlie’s mouth clicked shut.

But Nick’s brow had already furrowed into his concerned, listening face, and he was giving an encouraging nod and gently prodding, “What happened today?”

Charlie’s hand curled tighter. “Uhm.”

“Hey.” Nick sat up straighter, jostling Charlie where he was still perched in his lap. He kept one hand on the small of Charlie’s back and raised the other to cup Charlie’s cheek. “What happened? Did someone say something?”

“I…yeah. Well, not really? I…” Charlie blew out a breath. “I sort of, just, overhead Ben?”

Nick’s gaze darkened instantly. Charlie felt him tense, saw his jaw twitch, but Nick’s touch on him remained soft and careful. “What did he say?”

Charlie’s cheeks burned. “I really don’t want to repeat it,” he mumbled.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Then you’ll be in prison, and what will I do?” Charlie pointed out, feeling a little lighter in the face of Nick’s darkness—retaining their constant balance.

“You don’t think I’d get away with it?” Nick demanded.

Charlie released his shirt and reached up to squish his cheeks. “I think you’re much better than that to begin with.”

“And with much better kisses,” Nick said, through squished lips.

Charlie leaned in to kiss them and agreed, “So much better.”

“Magical?”

“Maybe.”

Nick made an outraged noise and dragged Charlie closer. There was a grin fighting its way onto his face. “That’s better,” he said softly. “Do you feel a little less stressed now?”

Charlie tucked his temple against Nick’s and catalogued himself. The distress was far from gone, but his skin didn’t feel so tight, his muscles weren’t so tense, and his stomach felt still. “Yeah,” he decided. “But, not enough that I can…”

“Yeah,” Nick said, kissing his cheek. “Okay. Is there anything else I can do?”

Charlie breathed, and said, “Hold me tighter?”

#heartstopper #osemanverse #heartstopper fic #charlie spring #nick nelson #ben hope #briefly i promise #nick x charlie #narlie #tw eating disorder #tw ed #tw ocd #tw self destructive thoughts #if anyone thinks i should add any other tags please lmk!#i’m very unsure how i feel about this and especially the ending but i hope i’ve handled it respectfully at least #prompts #my fics

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