#physical hurt/comfort

[littleaclove]

Content warning: This fanfiction contains themes of physical injury.

You had always known that Tsukishima Kei was a bit of a prickly character. He had a sharp tongue and a dry sense of humor that could cut through even the thickest of tensions. But despite all of that, you had always found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was because you saw through his tough exterior and knew that there was a softer side to him that he kept hidden away from everyone else. Or maybe it was just because he was incredibly good-looking.

Whatever the reason, you found yourself sitting beside him on the bus ride back from a particularly grueling volleyball tournament. The two of you had been partnered up for the doubles tournament, and despite some initial reluctance on Tsukishima's part, the two of you had ended up working well together. But it hadn't been enough to secure the win, and the disappointment was palpable in the air.

You were lost in thought, staring out the window and watching the passing scenery, when you suddenly felt a sharp pain in your side. You gasped in surprise and looked over to see Tsukishima's elbow digging into your ribs.

"Ow! What the hell, Tsukki?" you exclaimed, rubbing your side.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," he said gruffly, but you could tell that he wasn't really sorry at all.

You sighed and leaned back against the seat, trying to put some distance between the two of you. But the bus was crowded, and there was nowhere else to go.

As the ride continued, the pain in your side grew worse. You knew that you must have bruised a rib or something, and the constant jostling of the bus wasn't helping. You tried your best to ignore it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Finally, Tsukishima must have noticed that something was wrong. "Are you okay?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"No, not really," you admitted, wincing as you shifted in your seat.

Without another word, Tsukishima moved closer to you and put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a half-hug. You were surprised at the sudden display of affection, but you couldn't deny that it felt good to have someone else taking care of you for a change.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, with Tsukishima's arm around you and your head resting against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you.

When you finally arrived back at the school, Tsukishima helped you off the bus and walked you to the nurse's office. He waited outside while you got checked out, and then he walked you back to your dormitory.

"Thanks, Tsukki," you said as you opened the door to your room.

He shrugged. "It was nothing. Just don't expect me to make a habit of it."

You laughed, knowing that he was just trying to hide his softer side. But in that moment, you didn't care. You were grateful for his company, and for the unexpected comfort that he had provided you with.

#fanfic #tsukishima kei #hq tsukishima #hq tsukki #y/n #tsukishima fic #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort

[eiressofinspirationwrites]

Pieces, Panic, and Peace

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader (?)

Word Count: 4820

Warnings: depiction of a panic attack, blood, and injury to the reader

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

You’d known Steven since he started working at the museum and always admired his enthusiasm when it came to the exhibits. You could spend hours listening to him talk about Egyptology. He’s always so enthusiastic as he gets lost in the stories of his special interest and when he gets happily lost in his stories, you get lost in the pure energy that radiates from him as he does. If you were being honest, you’ve always had a love for all things mythology. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Norse. You name it and you’ve either spent hours lost in research, scouring hundreds of pages for any information possible related to the subject, or at least know the basics. 

So when Steven asked you to the grand opening of their newest addition to the Egyptian wing of the museum, it sounded like the best date you could imagine, and enthusiastically accepted. 

It didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels in love with him. He was a bright spot in your life that had become so dull and monotonous in recent months since your job had taken over. The time you spent with each other was the best part of both of your days. Steven was absolutely smitten with you.

As your relationship blossomed, you spent enough time with him to notice strange things happening with him. He would disappear for days on end and you also took note of the times you spoke with him and he seemed like an entirely different person.

Sometimes he would forget plans the two of you had made together and even entire conversations on several occasions. After a while, you brought it up and Steven confessed to you what he’d been hiding. 

He had DID and had an alter named Marc. It took some time for you to adjust and fully understand what DID was and what that meant for your relationship with the system. You spent hours doing your own research and tried to be respectful with any questions you had.

Eventually, you officially met Marc, but you weren’t sure if you liked him at all. Sure he spoke to you, but he always ends up switching back with Steven or just not saying much at all. 

When Steven fronted there wasn’t usually much quiet between the two of you unless you were doing something else together, like reading or watching a documentary. 

Time alone with Marc was different. Despite how much time you’d spent with Steven, you weren’t sure what to do with Marc when he was fronting. He doesn't share really any of the same interests as Steven, so it was hard to start a conversation. That didn’t stop you from trying on so many occasions. You wanted to have a good relationship with the other most important person in your boyfriend’s life.

One night after Steven’s shift, he invited you to meet at his flat to watch a new National Geographic documentary that had just been released. He’d been messaging you all week until you both had time off work to watch it together. 

Unfortunately, the day leading up to your date had been rather dreadful. First, you overslept and ended up with a flat tire before you were even halfway to work on your bicycle. Then you had to walk the rest of the five blocks to work which made you even more late. From there, your day did not improve. Rude customers, lazy coworkers, the list went on and on.

The only thing that got you through the day was the promise of relaxing and spending time with Steven. So when 8 o'clock rolled around, you found yourself eagerly awaiting Steven to open the door with snacks in hand. It only took a few seconds before the door swung open and Steven’s beaming face greeted you. 

“You’re here! ” Steven exclaims, smiling wide as he gestured you inside his flat. 

You gave him a quick peck on the lips as you passed by him, returning his bright smile with one of your own as you moved around the stacks of books and miscellaneous obstacles to reach the table to put down your movie snacks. 

“You would not believe the day I have had!” you groaned, shaking your head as you flopped into one of the chairs and launched into the story of the day. 

Steven leaned against the kitchen counter as he listened, nodding along to indicate he was actively listening to you.

After telling Steven about the bicycle shop’s criminally long waitlist for tire repair, you finally ran out of steam and sat back with a huff. 

“Anyways, that was my day. How was yours?” you ask, just now noticing that Steven has had one hand behind his back the entire time you were venting.

“Oh, it was fine-” Steven trailed off, a smile creeping its way across his face. 

He noticed your attention on his arm and made his way to the table before presenting his prize to you. His action elicited a gasp as he placed an intricate figurine on the table. 

“It came?!” you squealed excitedly.

“Just this morning.” Steven was smiling even wider than before, “Pretty amazing, innit?”

“It looks amazing! Look at all of the little details!” you leaned forward to get a better look, “Absolutely beautiful!” 

It was a hand-blown glass sculpture of the goddess Isis that the two of you had seen advertised in a news article about small businesses in London. It had an astounding amount of detail for something as delicate as it was, but it looked incredible in the ad. Steven had ordered it without hesitation the two of you had been anxiously awaiting its arrival ever since.

“I just cleared a place just special for it right before you arrived,” Steven pointed at a spot on a bookshelf near Gus’ fish tank, “I’d be rather upset if I knocked it over in the middle of the night.”

“I know you’ve been waiting for it to come forever,” you nodded, “It looks so much better in person.” 

“Thanks, love. Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah? Just gotta use the toilet before we start the film. I won’t be long.” Steven says, stepping around the table and heading towards the bathroom. 

You waved a hand towards him in response as you moved to pop the bag of popcorn in the microwave to get it started. 

Once the microwave was going, you crouched down to start rummaging through the lower cupboards in search of the big bowl you traditionally used on movie nights with Steven. After a moment of looking you spotted it at the very back of the cupboard by the wall. You huff as you half-crawl into the space to get it out. Once the bowl is in your grasp, you jerk back up with a small cry of victory, thrusting the bowl up into the air like a trophy. 

The sudden momentum throws you off balance and a sharp pain shoots up your elbow as you stumble back into the edge of Steven’s kitchen table. You barely have time to process the pain before the sound of shattered glass reaches your ears. 

It feels like the blood in your veins turns to ice as you watch Steven’s new figurine break into dozens of pieces on the floor. In a panic, you scramble around the table. The sound of dropping the metal bowl in your rush causes you to flinch as your hands reach around on autopilot trying to do something, anything to fix what you'd done. Your heart pounds in your chest and you can feel your breath starting to pick up. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register the early signs of what's coming. 

“No no no no no no…” you mumble as you rush to pick up the pieces. Your hands shook violently as your mind raced, trying to think of what to do before Steven inevitably returns.

“Please, please, please…” you beg under your breath, futilely trying to fit the pieces of broken glass back together. 

The tears gathering in your eyes make it hard to see, but you can’t stop to do anything about it, you have to fix it. You have to. You don't have another choice. It's all on you. Steven was going to be crushed that you'd destroyed his new figurine before he'd even had a chance to properly enjoy it. It was all your fault. All your fault. 

Your hands continued to tremble as an ache intensified in your chest, but you can’t think of the breathing techniques you'd learned and should be doing to calm down. 

Steven’s voice calling your name cuts through your thoughts. Your head snaps up to see Steven standing by Gus’ fish tank, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Love, what’s happened?” He asks, "You alright?"

Steven's eyes widen as he exclaims your name, rushing forward with his hands out. The panicked expression on his face jolts you into action. 

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you can’t seem to find any words. Your mind races faster than you can keep up with and you don’t know what to do. Your hands still on autopilot try to hide the pieces of the figurine they have already picked trying to keep them out of Steven’s line of sight.

All you can think of is hiding the shards somehow until you can do something to fix them. The movement has the opposite effect of what you wanted and instead draws Steven’s attention to the mess on the floor. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Steven, I didn’t mean it! I-I-I can f-fix it! I’ll buy you a new one I promise. I’m so sorry,” you manage to sputter, hot tears fall down your face and you try to jerk away from Steven as he gets closer. 

You backpedal until your back collides with the wall. Your panicked mind clutches the pieces you'd tried to hide to your chest. 

Panic has a vice-like grip on your entire body and there isn’t anything you can do. Everything feels so overwhelming as your senses are flooded by every sound, sight, and smell in the room. As you're sent over the edge into sensory overload, you fold in on yourself. A flood of apologies keeps falling from your mouth as it's the only thing your mind can fixate on. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Your chest feels like it is about to burst. You can’t catch your breath and through the tears can see black spots starting to float on the edge of your vision. 

Suddenly a face fills your field of vision. It's blurred from the tears, but part of you recognizes it has to be Steven. 

A gentle hand tentatively rests on your face and another tries to pull your hands away from your chest.

You can see his mouth moving, but can’t hear anything he is saying. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest is deafening and blocks out everything else. You try to blink away the tears to clear your vision and Steven’s face becomes more focused. 

The first thing you notice is that Steven’s body language is completely different and his eyes are different. They lack their usual softness.

It finally clicks that it’s Marc kneeling in front of you, not Steven. 

That realization makes you even more upset. Your brain assumes that Steven must be so angry he can’t stand to deal with the crying mess you'd become. The brief moment of clarity you had quickly vanishes and your crying dissolves into sobs. 

You try to turn away, but Marc’s strong hand keeps a gentle pressure on your face, keeping it level with his. His mouth is still moving, clearly trying to say something. You know it has to be important. So, you direct every ounce of focus you can into meeting Marc's eyes, struggling to focus on slowing your breathing as you do so. 

“Sweetheart...need…down…me…-stand…can…kay?” Marc’s broken sentence filters through the fog surrounding your mind.

After what feels like an eternity, your ears start to process Marc's voice. Bits and pieces of what's being said start to filter into your mind as they’re processed. 

You have no idea what he’s asking but you’ll do whatever he wants. Whatever will fix what you’ve done and make Steven happy again. Anything to preserve your relationship with him.

Your silent response earns a smile from Marc as he nods with you. His hand that is still covering yours moves to gently guide them away from your chest. 

When you look down you’re shocked to find blood covering both your hands and Marc’s. The glass shards must have cut your hands while you were in full panic and Marc’s became bloody while he held yours.

Panic swells in your chest again as your eyes dart back to Marc’s. Hoping he isn’t mad at you, too. You know that you couldn’t take it if both Steven and Marc were cross with you but Marc doesn’t seem to be. He just keeps nodding and pulls your attention back down to your hands. His own hand tries to gently pry open your fingers to remove the glass from your grasp. 

Despite the numbness settling into your body, you manage to relax your hands enough for your fingers to uncurl. As they do, the pain finally hits you. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as the air hits the wounds and a stinging sensation fires across the cuts on your palms and fingers. After the hiss cuts its way through your tears it seems to be the reset you needed to pull a deep breath of air into your lungs. 

You stare at Marc as he turns his attention to removing the glass and try to steady your breathing. Now that your focus is pulled to other things, your body seems to relax back into its normal breathing patterns. As your breathing slows and returns to normal, you can finally hear what Marc’s saying, and the tenderness in his voice surprises you. In all the time you’ve known him, you had never realized how soft-spoken and gentle he can be. 

“That's good. Just like that, sweetheart. Just breathe. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Marc murmurs as he carefully works to remove the splintered glass from your flesh as carefully as he can, paying close attention to make sure not to cause more damage to the already torn skin. 

Again, it feels like an eternity before all of the glass is removed from your hands, but in reality, it didn’t take more than a few minutes. Before moving on to the next step, Marc looks over your hands one last time to make sure all the shards are gone. Satisfied that he’s removed every last piece, he looks up at your tear-stained face with a gentle smile.

“You gonna be okay if I go get the first aid kit from the bathroom? It won’t take long but I need to make sure we get the bleeding stopped,” Marc’s voice was softer than you’ve ever heard before. 

You nod silently. If you were being honest you could use a little bit of time to yourself.

As soon as he lets go, your eyes fall to your bloody hands. As you take in the sight, you can feel the shame and embarrassment creeping up your neck like a rash. 

You couldn’t believe you’d just had a total panic attack in your boyfriend’s apartment over a broken figurine. You’d been pretty stressed lately and the kind of day you’d had been admittedly pretty shitty, but a having full mental breakdown wasn’t the way you’d expected to spend your night.

Your eyes slip closed as you try to avoid driving yourself into another panic attack. As long as you can keep your breathing under control and your heart can start to slow down you know you’ll be okay. Panic attacks aren’t anything new. You’d been having them for years at this point and one thing never changed. Coming down from them was almost the worst part. 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice interrupts your thoughts. 

You open your eyes to see him back with a first aid kit under one arm and towels in the other. 

The way he was watching you was unlike anything you’d ever seen from him before. It was apprehensive and unsure yet concerned and gentle. A stark contrast from the blatant indifference he’d shown you before.

“I-I’m okay,” your voice was rough from the tears and harsh breathing pattern you’d experienced.

You could see he wasn’t entirely convinced but Marc knelt down in front of you again and began to remove the supplies he will need from the kit. He removes the bandages, tubes of ointment, and a small surgical sewing kit as well. 

As Marc neatly organizes the supplies, you take in just how messy the floor has become. It’s littered with broken and bloody glass and stained by the droplets of blood that had dripped from your hands.

“I am so sorry.” you manage to choke out, tears start to prick at your eyes again seeing the mess you’d made. 

“It’s okay. Really, everything is okay. The only thing that matters is that you’re safe,” He reassures you as he begins cleaning the blood from your hands.

“Besides,” He continues, “Do you really think I haven’t cleaned blood off of Steven’s floors before. Had to make sure he wasn’t going to be finding a bunch of mystery stains before he knew about me. Helped to have such dark carpet. You ever tried to clean blood out of a light-colored carpet? It’s a nightmare.” 

You appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood but it didn’t do much to actually make you feel better.

A blanket of silence falls over the pair as Marc continues to clean the blood from your skin. Once it’s all cleaned away, he carefully inspects each wound. Looking to see if they need stitches. After a while, he moves on and begins disinfecting the cuts.

“The good news is that you don’t need stitches. Looks like most of the pieces were big enough not to get stuck in the cuts, but small enough not to cause enough damage to warrant stitches,” He reports, then mutters an apology when your hand jerks in his grasp as the alcohol stings the tender flesh.

“Thank you,” you whisper, unsure of what else to say.

As Marc starts to wrap your hands in clean bandages, you think about everything that’s led up to this moment. Still dwelling on the guilt you felt for breaking something Steven had waited so long for and had been so excited about. Your mind also shifts to the way Marc has treated you since he fronted during your attack. You’re starting to see that he’s not as cold and indifferent to you as he’s tried to make you believe.

Once he finishes wrapping both hands and secures the ends of the bandages, Marc starts packing away the first aid supplies. When everything is stored back in the kit, he sits down, leaning back to rest against the table leg behind him. You’re quiet as you stare at each other, both waiting for the other. 

“Those are going to need to stay covered up for a few days to avoid infection,” Marc finally breaks the silence.

You answer him with a silent nod. Not quite ready to speak again.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Marc asks tentatively, “You don’t have to, but I know a panic attack when I see one. Steven and I get them sometimes.”

Your attention shifts to the fish tank across the room. Your eyes follow Gus as he swims around the tank. It’s almost hypnotic watching the goldfish glide through the water. 

Marc doesn’t push you to answer. He’s comfortable waiting until you’re ready.

“I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder in high school,” you finally answer, “I thought I was dying the first time I had one. Th-they’re awful. Still are but at least I know now what’s happening. I don’t get them as often as I used to. Usually just when I’m stressed or scared.”

A beat of silence hangs in the air before Marc answers. 

“Did we scare you?” he asks, his voice so quiet you almost missed the question. 

“No,” your eyes widened in surprise, “Not Steven… or you. I just knew he was going to be upset about the broken figurine. Everything happened so fast and I panicked. It all just spiraled from there.”

Marc didn’t look convinced, so you sat up closer to him. “Honestly! I’ve just had a really crappy week and all these little things built up and then this one last thing was just the final drop in the bucket and I-” you paused, sitting back again. “Sometimes I just fall apart like a broken doll.”

Marc’s eyes flick from the stove next to you before looking back.

“Steven wants you to know that he isn’t mad at you. He was just worried. He didn’t mean to rush at you like that earlier,” Marc relays.

“He saw everything?” you winced.

“He saw the blood all over your hands and when you started to hyperventilate he felt lost,” Marc nodded, “He didn’t know what to do. He’s still up front but he thought I’d be able to help you more. He was worried.” 

Marc paused for a second before asking, “Do you want him to come back?” 

You weren’t sure how to respond. This is probably the most interaction you’ve ever had with Marc. Not to mention the feeling of embarrassment that was still settled in your gut. Even if Marc says Steven isn’t mad at you, part of you insists that he has to at least be partly upset that you broke his brand new figurine.

When your words fail you, you give an indifferent shrug, avoiding eye contact leaving the two to decide for themselves. Soon enough your eyes start to feel heavy and you have to fight back a yawn. 

An attack this bad wipes you out enough for your to require a nap at minimum soon after. Since you’re far from your own flat and don’t have a bike to ride home on, you know you have to get up and go soon. Otherwise, you risk falling asleep on the floor right where you are. So you shift to a position that’s easier to stand from and Marc moves as well. 

“I should get home,” you say as you try to stand up to leave.

When you sway a bit as you get to your feet, you have to brace yourself on the counter. This sends pain lancing through your bandaged hand comes as it contacts the counter.

It only takes a few seconds before a strong arm wraps around your waist, the warm limb steadies you and keeps you from toppling back to the floor.

“Easy, sweetheart. I don’t think you should be going anywhere tonight. Not in this state,” Marc says leading you over to the kitchen chair to sit down. 

“But I have to get home.” you insist, your voice comes out a little more whiny than intended. 

As you move to try and stand again, Marc's hands press into your shoulders and guide you back to the seat. When you look up, his face is firmer than earlier but holds another emotion you can’t quite place.

“No. You’re gonna sleep here tonight,” Marc decides, “You already walked here and it's too late for you to walk home now. I can’t risk you not making it home safe in this condition. Wandering the streets at night, half asleep with freshly bandaged hands is like a neon sign to every creep in the city. There’s no guarantee you’d make it home safe.” 

“I’ve already caused enough trouble for you two. I’ll be fine,” you protest.

“No,” Marc said firmly, “If you don’t feel comfortable staying with us, I’ll get you a taxi or something, but I’m not letting you walk home tonight.” 

“I don’t have money for a taxi, and I won’t let either of you pay for one either,” you argue, hoping Marc will just give up and let you walk home soon.

“Sweetheart, you have two choices.” Marc says, still holding you firmly in place, “Either sleep here tonight or let me get you a ride. I know what happens at night in this city. Khonshu has had me take care of more than enough bad people to know what will happen to you if you run into the wrong people out there while you’re vulnerable.” 

If you weren’t so exhausted you’d put up more of a fight but you know that you don’t have the energy to push Marc into letting you leave on foot.

“Fine,” your shoulders slump in defeat, “but I don’t have anything to sleep in or wear tomorrow. I went straight to the bike shop after work then came straight here.”

“We’ve got plenty of clothes for you to wear,” Marc answers and lets you go to walk over to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. 

You watch as he pulls out a set of joggers and a t-shirt. You knew the clothes were going to be too big but you were too tired to care. When Marc comes back and hands the clothes off, you take them with a nod of thanks. 

“I’ll just go-” you motion vaguely in the direction of the bathroom before you head over to change. 

By the time they come back out, Marc has set up a blanket and pillow on one of the armchairs in the sitting area but Marc blocks your path when you move to sit in it.

“Nope. You’re taking the bed. I’ll sleep here.” he turns you around by the shoulders before guiding you over to the bed. You protest weakly, but Marc gently pushes you over. You end up half sitting, half laying on the bed. 

“I’m not pushing you out of your own bed,” you say as Marc moves toward the chair he has set up. 

“Trust me, Steven barely sleeps in his bed as it is. I’ll be fine over here, you need to rest and you won’t get it sleeping upright all night,” Marc answers as he makes a few adjustments to his makeshift bed.

“I’m already stealing your clothes, don’t let me steal your bed,” you insist, “We’re both adults. We can share.”

Marc starts to stammer and stutter at the proposal but falls silent after a few moments when his attention is caught by his reflection.

“Steven can come out,” Marc says after a short time, “I don’t want to make you or him uncomfortable. You’re the ones dating each other. You like him… not me.”

He whispers the last part so quietly you almost miss it. That’s when everything falls into place for you. You suddenly realize why he’s been so short with you ever since he first met you. He didn’t hate you or resent you.

He was afraid to open himself up to you because he was afraid you’d reject him. Afraid that you only would be able to love Steven.

“Marc, it’s okay,” you pull yourself out of the bed, somehow making it to his side without stumbling at all, “If Steven’s comfortable with it… I’m okay with it. I’ve been trying to get through to you for months. It’s hard to know if I like you if you won’t open up.”

He was at a loss for words as your hands found his. He couldn’t believe that you were really truly even able to think about opening yourself to loving him, too. 

“A-alright,” Marc said after he peeled his attention away from Steven’s in the reflection, “but if you feel uncomfortable at all-,” 

“You’ll be the first to know,” you promised.

His thumbs brushed across your hands lightly as he contemplated his next action, “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You’ve been up way too long.”

This time you let Marc lead you to the bed without protest. He peeled back the blankets and let you climb in before he went around the other side and climbed in beside you. He placed himself as far away from you as possible, still unsure of what he should do.

You knew this had to be challenging for him so you let him decide what he was comfortable with. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as you curled into the bed and your eyes started to drift shut.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Marc whispered back, and part of you registered that was the fifth time he’d used that term of endearment tonight but you were too close to sleep to say anything tonight.

As you drifted to sleep, you decided that would be a conversation for morning.

#tw panic attack #tw blood #tw reader injury #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #reader insert #marc spector fic #moon knight hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort

[creapysummer]

listen I love emotional hurt/comfort but yknow what is so underrated? physical hurt/comfort!! it's so good!! sickfic? my literal favorite? injuries? especially if you sprinkle in some emotional hurt!! I will eat that UP and there is always such an absence of fics of it

in related news if any dead poets society fic writers wanna write any anderperry physical hurt/comfort and tag me in it...

#hurt/comfort #whump #physical hurt/comfort #sickfics #i love sickfics :(( #dead poets society #fanfic #fanfiction

[dnf-fics]

strange trails

by honeyplease

Summary:

Dream clears his throat. That jealous thing has its claws on either side of his windpipe and doesn’t budge. “Well, both of those. But I was- well, I was gonna ask, how’s it going with that guy in class?”

Maybe if Dream wasn’t in love with him, he wouldn’t have noticed the way George’s spine stiffened under his thick coat, or the minuscule raise of his shoulders. But he is, so he does, and the jealous thing flames. He’s defensive, Dream thinks miserably. It’s true.

-

dream is in his final year at college- with graduation, real jobs, and final exams looming, he leaps at the opportunity for a winter break getaway with his closest friends. but when disaster strikes, and he gets stranded with the boy he’s had a crush on for three years, he’s forced to confront much more than just his survival.

#my favorites #hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort #injury #sick fic #in a way #getting together #jealousy #protective dream #college/university au #multi chapter #wc 1k+ #wc 5k+ #wc 10k+ #rating: teen #dnf fic recs

[softverkwan]

keep a secret for me

rating: g pairing: seungkwan/mingyu prompt: wound-tending + royalty au (1,3k) tags: royalty AU, fluff, established relationship, wound-tending, physical hurt/comfort, power imbalance summary: “I’m fine,” Seungkwan mutters. He stands up and lowers his bloody hands. “Okay, maybe not.” Mingyu takes a sharp inhale and grabs Seungkwan by his arms. “Come with me.”

Posted on AO3

#seventeen #seventeen mingyu #seventeen seungkwan #boogyu #boogyu fics #boogyu fluff #physical hurt/comfort #power imbalance #im trying so hard to keep this blog afloat i keep geting caught up with irl things :/ #have a boogyu as my expression of remorse

[spinzolliii]

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

#cold whump #fever whump #physical whump #sick whump #whump #whump prompt #whump tropes #whumpblr #whumpee #illness whump #fainting whump #fainting #whump scenario #whump ideas #hurt/comfort #sickfic #sicknario

[squintingcats]

“I’m sorry. I have to do this, okay?”

Said by Caretaker before:

Lowering Whumpee into a cold bath for their dangerously high fever

Lowering Whumpee into a lukewarm bath for their dangerously severe hypothermia (it feels boiling to them)

Doing stitches, cleaning and dressing a wound, etc.

Cauterization

Forcing them to eat/drink something after an extended period of illness and/or starvation

Resetting a broken bone

Field surgery

Dragging their ass to an actual hospital

Dragging their ass to an actual therapist

Restraining them during a violent (as in, physically harmful) flashback or nightmare

Inducing vomiting when the Whumpee clearly needs to, but can’t

Uncomfortable medicine (bad-tasting, syringes, aerosolized medicine through a weird mask, etc.)

Moving a Whumpee who’s in a particularly bad state

Tell me more.

#fever whump #sick whump #whumpblr #whump #fainting whump #whump community #fever #hypothermia #cold whump #whump aesthetics #injury #writing #whump tropes #whump scenario #whump things #whump stuff #sickfic whump #physical whump #hurt/comfort #caretaking #caretaker #whump writing #whumpee #whump prompt #tw emetophobia

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

where you lead me, i’ll follow ; suguru geto

synopsis; opening up is hard, even under the comfort of a starry sky, seated next to your childhood friend. fortunately, suguru knows you like the back of his hand.

word count; 10k (dont even look at me i got carried away ok….)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers (eventually. probably.), hurt/comfort (mostly comfort tbh), fluffy overall!!, reader is silly and suguru is down horrendous, written with a no curses au in mind, i’m madly in love with suguru geto and it shows

a/n; nothing goes harder than sugu w/ the childhood friends trope i fear. the angst potential, the fluff potential….. the slow burn of it all……….. anyways can u tell i miss him :’3

time goes by so very quickly.

as you look up at the starry sky, the thought envelops you like a fuzzy tidal wave; heavy, suffocating, entirely unavoidable. these days, sinking beneath its weight is all you seem to do.

a sigh flows from your parted lips. soft and quiet, somewhat resigned. the midnight air tastes cold and crispy on your tongue, turning into a flurry of vapour as you breathe it out again, watching it dissipate into the summer night. beyond the boundary of your vision, stars burn in tandem. all you can see is the darkness of the cosmos, pupils dilating as you take in the immensity of the world, the little flickers of starlight that glimmer in that all-encompassing veil of black — blooming out across the galaxy. 

the moon is beautiful, tonight. 

a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling down at you so very tenderly, so gorgeous that it makes your heart ache. shining with a hazy kind of brightness, soothing like the lilt of a mother’s voice. 

and there’s a comfort, in the familiarity of the sight. because the moon is always, always there. always shining down on you, always when you need it most, even when it’s carved into a crescent or hidden by a blur of clouds. a view that never ever seems to change, no matter how many years go by. 

what a lovely thing to be.

another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. time keeps passing you by, never stopping — seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again. 

and, really, it’s a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you’re so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it.

but even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life — 

one thing remains the same.

”ah. there you are.”

(that voice.)

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges. just a little husky. deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you’re sure you’d still remember it. that familiar, familiar voice. it sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

a turn of your head. it’s a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. you do it as if it’s the only thing worth hearing.

and suguru is smiling, when your eyes meet his. that gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. the one that always puts your mind at ease.

a warmth settles in your chest, at the sight of him. hair down, cascading over his shoulders and back, a little messy; as black as the night sky. a stark contrast to the white of his shirt, old, oversized, with some indie band on the front.

his eyes glimmer like little pockets of stardust in the darkness of the night. cutting through the haze, into your very soul.

”… damn,” you click your tongue, faux pout playing at your lips. ”how’d you know i’d be up here?”

suguru shrugs. ”lucky guess,” he lies.

of course i knew, he thinks. finding you is his specialty. always has been. like that one time he found you hiding under a table at your twelfth birthday party, or the time he found you crying in the woods when you got lost on your school field trip.

finding you comes easy, to suguru. almost like he’s always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. you go south, and he follows. you go north, and he’s already waiting up ahead.

he’s worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself, but truthfully it’s more than that. because tonight was supposed to be for you. for the both of you, a celebration of your shared graduation — but before he knew it, you had slipped away. seizing the opportunity as soon as people grew too sleepy to notice. 

(sadly for you, no amount of fatigue could ever distract him from the lack of your presence.)

you look small, suguru thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you’d always go to on nights when you couldn’t sleep. together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again.

back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he’s ever known.)

the distance between you grows narrower, as suguru makes his way over to you — and it always does, at the end of the day. no matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. one of you always moves closer. as if it’s unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other’s orbit.

suguru plops down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. it’s natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. it reminds you of the gentle lapping of ocean waves at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days, comforting and familiar. a warmth that never goes away.

a brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. the scent that always lingers on suguru’s skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other’s clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, you let a fond exhale slip from your lips. barely audible. and suguru mimics it.

”of course i knew,” he whispers, voice gone soft. ”i know you.”

(your chest tightens. it doesn’t go away.)

another tiny breath flows into the air, as you gaze up at the stars in wonder. ”… yeah.”

the silence between you is a comfortable one. always has been. a little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long — usually you, though suguru isn’t much better. 

but this time, he stays silent.

he’s waiting. you know he is, because he always does. he’s waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. waiting for you to say something, tell him what’s wrong, explain why you’re up here instead of celebrating with the others. waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

(you’d like to ask him the same thing. he’s an idiot if he thinks a little makeup is enough to hide those dark circles from you.)

suguru is nothing if not patient. so he waits, unbothered by the silence. admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. a vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can’t stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

an insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart — but he can’t, not unless you let him.

a sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. deep and heavy, like a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. the silence breaks. 

”hey, suguru.”

the man in question doesn’t speak, only emitting an inquisitive hum. he doesn’t look at you, either; a form of respect. knowing you’ll find it easier to get whatever’s bugging you off your chest without him scrutinizing you. 

the pads of your fingers tap at the tiles of the roof. an absentminded habit, as you inhale a bit of the midnight air. it tastes like summer. ”do you remember how we first met?”

suguru glances at you, a surprised glint in his eyes. he can’t help himself — unable to resist the temptation of seeing your face, drinking in your expression.

then he chuckles.

”haha.. are you feeling sentimental?” he teases, a lighthearted sense of amusement in his voice. bubbling up like seafoam. ”did you come out here just to brood?”

the corners of his lips quirk up when he hears you huff, hugging your legs closer to your chest with a furrow of your brow. cheek squished against your kneecap as you meet his gaze.

”c’mon,” you whine, pouting childishly in a way you know will make him give in. ”just indulge me a little…”

suguru smiles. it’s soft around the edges, smoothed over with an unmistakable fondness — and he does indulge you. he always does. ”of course i do,” he assures you.

the silence that settles between your words is tender. a mutual understanding, of sorts.

of course i remember. how could i not?

”you broke into my backyard.”

a sigh. heavy and sharp, as it tumbles from your lips, and suguru has to bite back a grin. his eyes shine with something teasing, in the dark, when you shoot a glare his way.

”okay, first of all —” you begin, ”i didn’t break into anything. i climbed over the fence. peacefully.”

suguru raises a brow. ”that literally doesn’t matter? it’s still trespassing.”

”i was seven years old!”

”some criminals start young.”

another harmless little huff, as you halfheartedly try to sound annoyed. it doesn’t work. in an attempt to hide your growing smile, you tuck your face into your knees. ”whatever.”

then your gaze shifts. towards that expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon, like a moth to a flame. helpless to its charms. it looks like a giant sponge cake, the kind you and suguru used to make when that was the only recipe you knew — you’d eat from the batter, and he’d scold you. then he’d do it too, when your back was turned.

a smile settles on your lips. in every star, you find a new memory; and the fuzzy nostalgia that engulfs you makes your heart feel bare. ”i just wanted to pet your cat,” you recall, softly.

suguru nods. gazing down at you, basking in the expression on your face — peaceful and relaxed, a little more yourself. so effortlessly pretty, bathed in moonlight. ”yeah. i remember.”

he allows the memory to sweep him away, for a second or two. recalling the sight of you, all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. it was like you had just fallen out of the sky. quiet and meek, but looking at his cat with an excited glimmer in your eyes.

”you just pointed to her and expected me to understand,” he continues. a grin blooms on his face, hopelessly endeared. ”you were shy back then.”

a raise of your eyebrow. ”um? i’m still shy?”

suguru gives you a look. he doesn’t have to say anything — it’s written all over his face. the classic suguru look, the kind where you can tell he’s itching to say oh, really now? the kind where he tries to look judgemental, but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

a small giggle leaves your lips, and suguru smiles, once more. so helpless in the face of your joy.

”then we watched movies at my place.”

you hum. ”it was fun.”

”yeah.”

another bout of silence. soft, terribly precious. the air is chilly, but not enough to make you shiver; a mild summer night, pleasant on your skin and light on your heart. a gentle breeze tousles your hair. in the distance, you hear cicadas buzzing — a familiar sound. unchanging.

(if only everything else could stay the same, too.)

”do you remember what movie it was?”

a lazy smile plays at suguru’s lips, when he angles his face to look at you. one eyebrow raised. ”is there a point to this, or —?”

”i just wanna reminisce.”

suguru pauses. your eyes trail across the view that stretches out before you, from the moon to the distant city lights, as you fidget absentmindedly with the strings of your hoodie. he thinks to himself that you look a little lost. gaze forgotten, within the depths of that endless night sky.

no more teasing, he decides, tactfully. instead, he opts to answer your question; softly, as if he could hurt you if he raised even a single octave of his voice. ”whisper of the heart,” is all he says.

a hum, as you nod. decisively. ”the best one.”

suguru turns his head away, and mutters something under his breath. but you can still hear him — and you know he wants you to.

”spirited away is the best one…”

out of the corner of your eye, you shoot him a thoroughly unimpressed look. he bites back a soft bout of laughter, teeth sinking into his lip gently, not enough to sting.

”you’re so basic,” you grin.

”you just want to feel quirky,” suguru shoots back, instantaneous. ”and you only like it because of seiji.”

”you only like spirited away because of haku!”

suguru closes his eyes, and leans back a little, crossing his arms in a childish fashion — and you know he only does it to make you laugh. ”i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

”oh please,” you scoff. ”you really think i don’t remember your queer awakening?”

”hm? what was that?” feigning confusion, he puts a hand to his ear. but there’s a mirth in his eyes, impossible to miss. ”you’re gonna have to come closer, i can’t hear you from here.”

another unimpressed look. you exhale, something in between a huff and a chuckle. ”if i get any closer i’ll be in your lap, dumbass.”

suguru bites his cheek, softly. gulping down the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(i wouldn’t mind.)

”sorry, say that again?”

a little push meets his shoulder, as you roll your eyes. ”yeah, yeah. whatever.”

the banter dies down, as fast as it appeared. then a smile breaks out across your faces, in tandem, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere — and doesn’t it always, when you’re watching the starry sky with the one you love most?

when suguru continues, his voice has taken on that softer tone, again. the one he only ever really uses around you. ”i liked thinking of us as them,” he admits. ”me as haku, and you as chihiro.”

a soft blink. then your smile grows, sweet like syrup. ”.. hehe. that’s funny,” you cross your legs. palms flat against the roof, knee leaning comfortably against suguru’s. ”i always thought of us as seiji and shizuku.”

there’s something faraway, in your eyes. something suguru can’t look away from.

tentatively, his fingers dig into the skin of his palms, and he speaks. absentminded, a little uncertain.

”… they get married at the end, don’t they?”

a pause. then your gaze snaps over to suguru’s, suddenly mischievous — and he regrets opening his mouth.

”oh?” you purr, almost beaming. inching closer, like a predator sizing up their prey. ”oh shit? are you about to propose, mister geto?”

”i’m just stating facts,” he quips, hands raised in defense. desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint crawling up his neck, obscured by the darkness of the night.

”incorrect facts,” you grin. if you notice the blush on his face, you don’t say anything. ”they get engaged. not married. big difference.”

suguru huffs. it’s small, as he tries to keep himself from smiling. the beating of his heart is faint, a tender rhythm, stirred by every move you make. he pushes the words he yearns to say back down his throat.

(i wouldn’t mind that, either.)

again, silence blooms. curling around the space between you. it feels nice, just to be like this; just you, and your very best friend, under the soft lighting of the moon. as if you’re the only ones who exist, in an otherwise empty universe — devoid of space and time. like the night could just stop, and stretch on forever. 

there’s an unspoken question in the air, though. one suguru is still waiting for you to answer. one you refuse to answer properly, until he does the same.

you’ve both noticed, of course. even if no one else has, neither of you could ever miss it. suguru has noticed the turmoil in your eyes, and you’ve noticed the fatigue under his. those little signs of stress, as everything around you keeps spinning on; as the future grows closer, with every passing day.

(it’s overwhelming, you both muse.)

— and finally, you’ve had enough.

”suguru,” you call out, and his gaze finds yours instantly. ”have they been stressing you out, lately?”

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering softly. a little sleepy. they.

then he smiles. maybe a bit weak, but still as sincere as always — resigned to the fact that he really can’t hide anything from you, after all.

(of course you’d notice it. he was stupid to think you wouldn’t.)

a hum, as he breathes in the air and then exhales it all. trying to formulate the words inside his head, turn the feelings into syllables. and you’re patient. silent, as you admire the way moonlight caresses his skin.

”i’ll manage.” is what he finally says, and your lips curl down into a frown. ”they’ve just been getting on my case, again. you know how they are.”

suguru closes his eyes, and you inch closer to him. barely, by a hair, just to let him know you’re still listening. that you’re waiting for him to continue.

it’s tough, for him. opening up, being vulnerable.

but he knows you won’t do it unless he does, too. so he takes that leap, despite the insistent voice in his head urging him to just keep it to himself.

”it’s just… all these expectations, you know?” he meets your eyes, a little sheepish. downplaying his troubles so smoothly, as if you wouldn’t notice. ”i’m used to it by now, but sometimes i guess it still gets to me.”

you hum, and he continues.

”i feel like i have to be… solid,” he decides on. ”put-together. responsible, and mature.” a sigh, as he wrings his hands together. ”and that’s fine — but it’s like they have everything planned out. like everyone does. how i should act, where i should go…”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, so focused on verbalizing his thoughts that he barely notices your fingers curling around his. but he still squeezes them, lightly. as naturally as breathing.

”it’s like my future’s already set in stone. and i’m just expected to follow it,” he looks up at the moon. ”which is also fine. i already know what i want to do. but somehow, all of it just feels so…”

he pauses. unsure of how to put it.

”… suffocating?” you finish for him. 

there’s a second in which suguru can do nothing but breathe. as if frozen, stuck in motion, caught off guard by how deeply your minds are intertwined.

— what a wonderful thing, to have someone pluck the words you’re afraid to say from the back of your throat.

a smile blooms on his face, and a gratitude shines in his eyes. almost overflowing. 

(you’ve always been the only one who ever seems to understand.)

”yeah,” he sighs, relieved. and suddenly his chest feels a lot lighter. odd, how just the tilt of your voice when you say a certain word can chase that discomforting sensation away. 

”don’t listen to them,” you say, assuredly, so softly it’s like you’re coaxing him into believing you. it works. ”they don’t matter.”

suguru chuckles, rueful. ”they’re my parents.”

”so? they aren’t you.” you nudge his side with your elbow. ”they have no say in how you live your life. you don’t need to live up to all those expectations, you know.” 

a soft little breath leaves your lips, and suguru wonders how you seem to always soothe his heart so easily. ”you just need to be suguru,” you mumble, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”that’s all.”

a moment passes. suguru parts his lips, closing them again when no sound comes out. and then finally, he speaks.

”… yeah,” he muses. ”maybe.”

”definitely,” you huff. ”trust your best friend. i know best.”

”careful,” he teases, tilting his head lazily to meet your gaze. ”you’re starting to sound like them.” the smile on his face only grows when you gape at him, wholly offended, as if you can’t believe what he just said.

”wha — suguru…” you whine, sleepy, clinging to the sleeve of his shirt. digging your nails into the fabric and tugging on it childishly. ”don’t say that. i’m nothing like them!”

a giggle pushes past his lips. ”sorry, sorry,” he soothes, ruffling your hair with his palm. rough hands, big and warm, that always seem to find their way to your skin. ”i’m just kidding. thank you. really.”

the smile that he gives you glows brighter than the moon. he squeezes your hand, softly — a silent i love you. eyes closed, formed into little crescents, and when he speaks he sounds so painfully sincere. 

”i think i’ll be fine as long as i have you,” he says. it comes out sounding something like a prayer. 

the words make your eyes soften. melting into a mellow hue, so full of affection that you can almost taste it on your tongue. 

”everything will turn out fine,” you murmur, consoling him. still not letting go of his hand. ”you have your whole life ahead of you, you know.”

he chuckles. the sound would be sweet if it didn’t have that teasing tilt to it, the one that tells you his amusement is at your expense. ”now you’re starting to sound like my grandma,” he quips, as if itching for something to bicker about.

but you only pout, and let your fingers slip from his. the warmth that leaves you is so jarring that you’re almost tempted to take his hand into yours again — but you just frown at him. ”i can never win with you, huh?”

suguru shrugs. ”need to keep you humble,” he chirps, pulling at your cheek gently. a lazy grin on his lips. ”we don’t want that ego of yours to grow as big as satoru’s.”

trying to keep yourself from grinning with him, you slap his hand away, playfully. ”that would never happen.”

”uh-huh.”

you give him a look.

”my bad.”

a moment passes. gradually, you feel your heart beginning to melt — just a little, but enough to get your voice hopelessly soft on your tongue. the glimmer of the moon embraces every cell in your body, painting over your features with a certain kind of bleeding tenderness. it’s hard to stop it from seeping out.

”you know that i love you. right?” tumbles from your lips, breathed out into the sky, words too heavy to be held back. ”even if your parents give you trouble, and everyone else, too — i’m still on your side.”

”always,” you promise, devotedly earnest. meeting his gaze. and suguru can’t look away.

something flickers, in the depths of his eyes, like a shooting star. something delightful.

he doesn’t quite know what to say. but he nods; almost meek, in a way, and it makes your chest ache. suguru’s always been the type to keep his troubles to himself, content with never letting anyone see into his heart — even if he’d like them to deep down.

if you can be there for him, even just for a night, then that’s more than enough.

he lets the silence linger for a while longer, soft breathing and the rustling of grass filling the space where your words would be. then he looks at you with newfound determination, suddenly, eyes shining in a way you don’t recognize. 

”— and you know that i love you, too.” 

a moment passes. 

an affirmative hum buzzes in your throat, and you give him the ghost of a nod, shying away from his deep gaze. hoping to escape the intimacy of the question. but he doesn’t let you, stare so heavy that you have no choice but to meet his eyes again, after he nudges your hand with his.

the words that fall from his lips surprise you. something akin to a pout plays on his lips, but it’s more serious than that — he looks dejected.

”… do you, though?” he pushes, a troubled frown on his lips. ”do you know that i love you? just as much as you love me?” 

at your stunned silence, suguru sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth over the crease between his brows. ”sometimes i worry that you don’t,” he admits. ”you always think too much. but i don’t want you to ever have to worry about that.”

his voice is firm, when he continues. ”i don’t want you to ever second-guess my love for you,” he declares, and you cower a little under the intensity of his gaze. playing with your fingers instead of looking at him. ”— so i want your answer.”

when his hand finds its way to your face, you stiffen, just barely. but it’s soft, the way he cups your jaw; the warmth of his palm smoothing over your skin. gentle, as he forces you to meet his eyes, tilting your chin up slightly. a bold move, even though physical contact is no stranger in your dynamic. you feel your heart pick up in speed. 

”do you know that i love you?” he asks, and it sounds almost pleading. you can only find it in you to stare. 

suguru’s eyes are filled with something, something you’d like to call love. and they’re looking deep into yours, almost as if coaxing you into drowning in their hue. mesmerizing. ridiculously pretty. if you stare into them for too long, you fear that you might never be able to look away.

but they’re sweet, and warm. painted over with worried hue, something very kind. familiar. the same eyes that have soothed you for as long as you can remember. 

in your flustered state, you can do nothing but blink dumbly — gaze darting from his eyes, to his forehead, to the sky, to his lips. 

he can tell the eye contact makes you nervous, but some part of him won’t allow you to squirm away. this is important. he needs to know that you know. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep at night, otherwise.

finally, you squeak out an affirmative yes. and that’s all it takes for him to relax; in one smooth motion, his hand leaves your skin, a relief having bloomed in his eyes. 

”okay. that’s good,” he exhales. 

swallowing down a gulp, your gaze drifts away from the boy to your left. suguru is terrifying, really — doing stuff like that out of nowhere. you check your pulsepoint, discreetly, just to make sure your heart is still beating. 

”alright, then,” he suddenly proclaims, breaking the fleeting silence. ”your turn.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter in confusion, as you gaze up at him, a question painted on your features. suguru glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

”you’ve been stressed, lately,” he remarks. stating the obvious so you don’t have to. with a soft gaze, eyes that shimmer with understanding. ”i can tell, you know?”

(yeah. he always can, can’t he?)

”… uh,” you croak. clearing your throat and attempting to gather your thoughts, hoping the words will find their way to your lips. ”well. i dunno, really...”

suguru emits a low, affirmative noise, not looking at you. opening up like this makes you feel so uncomfortable. but it’s suguru. you trust him. and you know he won’t let you get away from this, either; he’ll stay up all night if he has to. just waiting for you to put your faith in him.

a sigh leaves your lips, finally, and it comes out sounding just a tad exhausted. ”i… guess i’ve just been thinking, lately.”

and, really, it’s an understatement. thinking is all you’ve been doing, for these past few weeks. thinking of this, and of that. the past and the future. him and you.

suguru hums. an unspoken encouragement.

”everything is just so…” you move your hands, haphazardly, hoping they’ll make the words easier to say. but nothing comes to you. everything is all jumbled up, inside your mind, and it’s just — 

”overwhelming,” you finish. the word falls off your tongue like a tidal wave. ”everything passes by so quickly, and…” you bite your lip. ”i feel like i can’t catch up. i can’t visualize the future at all, and that’s…”

(it’s scary.)

”— it just makes me feel confused.”

suguru waits. patient, attentive, making sure you get all the words out before he speaks. as grounding as the moon, as warm as the sun. 

when you don’t elaborate further, avoiding his gaze, he opts to finally soothe you.

”that’s understandable,” he chimes, voice buzzing with care. ”you don’t have to think about the future right now. living in the present is enough,” a breeze drifts by, tousling his black hair. ”.. it’s for the best, really.”

a smile. it’s a little sad, as you wring your hands together. ”i know,” is all you can say. because you do. it just doesn’t change anything.

the sensation of your nails scraping against the tiles of the roof is discomforting, but you don’t stop. when you part your lips, your voice comes out tiny. barely above a whisper.

”i’m so afraid of change.”

suguru looks at you. his gaze softens, impeccably.

”everything keeps changing. all the time,” you bite into the flesh of your cheek, harshly. ”i hate it.”

”that’s understandable, too,” suguru soothes. tentative, as his hand goes to rest on your head, smoothing down your hair gently. ”change is unavoidable. but you get better at dealing with it.”

”mm, i know.”

”and some things stay the same, too.” 

you glance up at him, and his eyes crinkle. there’s something unspeakable in them, something that’s always been there. light and heavy, all at once. something a little bit too wonderful for words.

suguru smiles. almost a little shy, as he looks into your eyes. ”like you and me.”

…

a deep love unfurls in your chest, warming you up from the inside out. fuzzy and tingly. but with it comes a deep sadness, bittersweet, that you can’t chase away no matter how hard you try; like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, no matter how many times you try to scrape it off against the concrete.

like you and me.

(he doesn’t know that’s what scares you the most. the thought of that one thing changing, while you just stand there, helpless to stop it.)

”yeah,” you breathe. a wounded little breath.

suguru notices it, despite your vague attempts to act like nothing’s wrong. he notices the fear in your voice, the uncertainty. and once again, he gets the impression that you look a little lost. like you aren’t sure where to plant your feet.

it bothers him. an itch he wants to scratch away. but before he can get to the bottom of it, you begin to speak, once more.

”with you, it’s like…” a breath flows from your lips, as you try to find the words. but this time, they come to you with relative ease. ”if i could do my life over again, and make everything turn out different… then i’d still always keep you.”

silence. you continue, suddenly a little embarrassed at the honesty in your tone. but it’s too late to back out now. 

”and even if everything else changes, if i could pick just one single thing to keep — then it’d be you, too.” the smile on your face is small, a little sheepish. “that’s how it is, so…” 

you trail off. not sure what else to say. suguru isn’t, either; he feels just a little bit stunned, in the face of your sincerity. yet he parts his lips, softly, words making themselves manifest before his mind can even begin to catch up.

”i don’t think i’ve ever told you this,” he begins, not entirely sure where the words will take him. blinking up at the sky, entranced, whilst you look at him quizzically. ”you always call me your guardian angel, right?”

the question makes your lips curl up. it’s a habit of yours, one that’s become almost muscle memory. you don’t remember how it started, but it’s in everything suguru does; from the way he can always tell when you’re feeling overwhelmed, to the way he never fails to bring you a coffee right before your exam starts. 

suguru is always looking out for you, even when you’re apart. like a guardian angel. yours.

you nod. ”because you are.”

suguru smiles, breathing out a fond chuckle, and then shakes his head. ”it’s the opposite.”

you turn to the man beside you, and he’s already looking at you. with his pretty, soothing brown eyes, and the barely visible dark circles beneath them. his gaze is warm and fond, grateful in a way that makes your chest squeeze tight. you melt a little, under its weight.

”you’re my guardian angel,” he says, sickeningly sweet. ”always have been. even back then.”

inhaling the mild air, suguru lets his eyes flutter shut. the taste reminds him of the summer vacations you used to have as kids, when you would ride your bikes to the nearest river and play all day. stopping by any ice cream stand you found on the way there; you always took a bite out of his without asking, and he always tried to get angry at you. but he never could. 

on your way back home, the sky was always dark. a soothing blue hue, stars glittering in the distance, while the moon looked close enough to touch. a night just like this one. you’d walk, together, talking about everything and nothing — sometimes he’d carry you on his back. not once did he drop you. 

a breath, deep and drawn out as he exhales, basking in memories you aren’t privy to. a saccharine smile painted on his lips.

”without you…” he muses, voice a little breathless. fond, and somewhat helpless. but he’s smiling. ”i don’t really know what i’d do, to be honest.”

a moment passes.

”it’s the same for me,” you echo, words escaping your throat before you even get the chance to realize their weight. gaze stuck to the stars, as always. ”i can’t imagine life without you.”

suguru doesn’t speak, afraid that his heart may crawl out his throat if he does. the honeyed smile on his face says more than words ever could, anyway. 

a small bout of laughter leaves your lips. sudden, sad, dripping with longing. it surprises you, catches you off guard — like something within you just overflowed. 

“you know what my biggest fantasy was?” you grin, ruefully. maybe just a little manic. ”i used to think about it all the time, when we were kids.”

suguru looks at you in silence, but there’s a confusion in the way he tilts his head.

there seems to be a knot of some kind, stuck in the very bottom of your chest. something that makes it hard to speak. ”i’d get on a train, and just kinda… leave,” you breathe, hoping it’ll unclog your throat. it doesn’t. ”you know? to somewhere far, far away.” 

and suddenly, the world grows just a little blurred. suguru can see it, in your eyes — you’re someplace else now. gaze trained on something he can’t see. there’s an amused touch to your voice, but also something rather pitiful. a childish wish that never came to fruition.

there’s regret, there, suguru thinks; something close to pain.

”maybe, like… a small port town,” you continue, closing your eyes. “with a cute little café close by, or whatever… somewhere you can see the sea.” 

another breath. you pretend it tastes like salt, like an ocean breeze. then you swallow the lump in your throat, and whisper. ”with you.”

when you finally muster up the courage to meet suguru’s eyes, they shine with nothing but pure understanding. he doesn’t say anything, but he understands. he’s always been like that. not a single word is needed for him to ground you, the way a rock always meets the bottom when it’s thrown into the depths of a lake. 

suguru’s comfort is as natural to you as the gravity that keeps the stars up in the sky.

the voice you’ve grown so used to hearing reaches your ears again, and it’s a low sound, a little raspy. but soft. achingly so, enough that you could almost miss it if you weren’t always so aware of every word that falls from his lips.

suguru looks up at the moon, in tandem with you, and lets the ghost of a smile show. ”… you know what my biggest fantasy was?”

his gaze is sincere, a little forlorn; hopelessly softened, as you meet his eyes. they’re painted over with something sweet, and something that looks just a little bit like regret.

a tilt of your head beckons him to continue, and the corners of his lips curl up further. 

”running away with you,” he breathes. ”anywhere at all. wherever you wanted to go, i’d follow.”

for a moment or two, all you can do is stare. 

you feel your lips part, but no sound comes out, nothing at all. suguru’s hair sways with the breeze, softly, and the light of the moon makes him look somewhat ethereal. like he could disappear if you blinked. 

the silence that blooms in the space between your words is fragile. precious, if a little overwhelming, as it stretches out before you — growing heavier with every passing second. so tender that it makes you feel sick to your stomach, as if the sound of the wind whistling could shatter it into pieces. 

(your heart aches, aches, aches.)

a weak laugh bubbles up from within your throat, something raw and tender hidden behind a veil of faux amusement. something vulnerable you're trying to cover up, like the glassiness of your eyes.

like a memory that never got to happen.

”what, so you’re saying we could’ve been by the seaside by now…?” you groan, forehead slumping against your knees with a bonk. ”what the hell, dude…” 

suguru lets out a chuckle, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm and looking down at you with a smile on his face. one that reaches his eyes, glimmering with something akin to starlight.

”we can still go there,” he consoles you, reaching over to tousle your hair with a palpable softness. ”to the seaside, i mean. i’ll take you.”

for a while, you don’t say anything. a pout plays at your lips, as you attempt to get your emotions under control. 

then you lean back, to lie down flat on the roof. the movement is so sudden that it stings a little when the back of your head meets the tiles, and you wince — a soft but exasperated murmur of careful comes from the boy on your left.

your elbows go to cushion your head, as you take in the immenseness of the sky. ”alright, then,” you hum. ”take me there sometime soon.”

suguru blinks. then his lips curl up. ”got it,” he chirps. mentally mapping out a nice spot, trying to remember the timetables at your local train station.

(next week, maybe. a picnic by the sea. he’ll make those sandwiches that you like.)

then he follows your lead, and goes to lie down on his back. right by your side, so close he can smell the fading scent of your shampoo, curled up right next to you. breathing out a sigh as he takes in the night sky in all its glory. 

there’s something tender, in the air. something that doesn’t need words. a kind of comfortable silence that you’ve learned to treasure, whenever suguru is with you.

so you simply stare at the dark veil over the city, in tandem with him — a pitch-black blanket sewn with stardust.

everything expands, before your very eyes; an infinite cosmos, with all the light you could ever want. the stars blink down at you, as if saying hello, mapping out the galaxy. you try to find the constellations you’re familiar with, the ones suguru have taught you about in the past, but nothing really comes to you.

it’s nice, though. just staring at the stars in wonder.

an exhale, as you breathe in, and then out. you part your lips to whisper, breaking the sleepy silence.

”the stars are so pretty….” 

suguru hums, the sound buzzing right by your ear. a soothing summer lullaby, that only you get to hear. ”yeah,” he whispers back.

a moment passes.

then you both part your lips to speak; smoothly, in a fashion that would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so terribly safe in each other’s company. simultaneous, as the sentence tumbles from your throats.

”and so are you.”

silence. the seconds stretch on, and on. everything goes quiet.

you’re the first one to burst into laughter — deep, the kind that comes from the very bottom of your stomach. almost wheezing, as you try to catch your breath, arms snug around your shaking body. suguru follows close behind, trying to contain his laughter, but you can hear his little chuckles clear as day.

”eww, what the fuck?” you grin, shifting to lie on your side so you can get a good look at his face. ”you’re so corny!”

suguru snorts. ”i heard you say it too, dumbass.”

a little giggle flows from your lips, and you slump against his shoulder, still trying to control your breathing. suguru curls an arms around your midriff, bringing you closer. muscle memory, to make it more comfortable for you.

”haah…..”

the smile on your face shines brighter than the stars, suguru thinks, looking at you with a bleeding kind of fondness. as if you’re the only thing worth looking at.

”i hope things stay like this forever.”

the light of the moon shines down on the roof, bouncing off the white of your teeth. your canines shine in the dark as you grin, youthful — but there’s a sadness in your eyes, now. one that suguru will never fail to notice.

(one he’ll always yearn to smooth away, the same way his thumb always goes to wipe at any stray eyelashes on your skin, or crumbs at the corner of your mouth. muscle memory.)

”they will,” he assures you, reaching over to find your hand. enveloping it in his bigger one, cradling it, linking your fingers together and squeezing them softly. ”i’ll make sure that they do.”

a chuckle leaves your lips, but suguru thinks it sounds a little meek. like you still don’t believe him.

”i mean it,” he reiterates. more serious this time.

”i know,” you grin. ”but, i mean —”

a moment passes, and then your grin falters. ”you can’t promise that, though.” the expression on your face seems sort of pained, now, troubled by something. ”maybe we’ll move away from each other, or just drift apart, or —”

”that would never happen to us —”

”maybe you’ll meet someone.”

…

”a nice guy, or girl…” a sigh, as you run a hand through your hair. ”and then you’ll… i dunno. get married, i guess. and then eventually you’ll have kids, and buy a house, and —” 

a pause. in a smaller voice, you continue. almost childlike. ”you’ll leave me behind.”

suguru bites back a scoff. it takes concentrated effort. he turns to look at you, but you won’t meet his gaze, and a frown finds its way to his lips. ”… do you honestly think that’s what i want?”

another moment passes you by. more seconds lost, never to return. ”… isn’t it?”

suguru sighs, a little exasperated. maybe just a little hurt, too. ”marriage and kids aside…” he mutters, burning holes into your skin with his steadfast gaze. determined, self-assured. the tilt of his voice leaves no room for doubt. ”there’s only one person i love.”

resisting the temptation to keep your eyes away from him becomes nearly impossible — so you let your gaze trail over, and take him in. in all his glory, silky black hair framing his face, a soft look painted over his features. looking at you as if you matter, as if nothing matters except for you.

and again, something breaks out across the scope of his iris, a shooting star you don’t know what to do with. he looks so hopelessly sincere. 

for a second, all you can do is stare.

then you nod, solemnly. ”satoru, right?” you hum. ”you’re gonna break my heart if you keep bringing him up when we’re together, sugu.”

you don’t need to see his face to know that he’s giving you that unimpressed look, again. the suguru look. he rolls his eyes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

”i love him too, but that’s different,” he huffs.

”how so?” you prod, eyes crinkling. but there’s something a little meek about the question. he notices it, of course, because what doesn’t suguru notice?

something soft curls around his features, and a hum buzzes in his throat. a heavy tenderness bleeds into his voice. ”i wouldn’t die for satoru,” he says, simply.

a moment passes.

”… you totally would.”

”huh?” suguru blinks. ”no, of course not. are you insane?”

”suguru,” you sigh. ”you are literally the most self-sacrificial bitch i’ve ever met —”

”well, obviously i’d take a bullet or two, but —”

”what do you mean obviously —”

”— you’re the only person i’d die for.”

suguru is smiling, now. amused, sincere. almost on the verge of laughter, the sweet and soft kind that always turns your heart into a puddle. his eyes almost seem to glimmer, in the night, and it’s all you can see for a while. as you try to gather your thoughts, get the right words out.

”… always so dramatic,” you murmur, at last, a little gruff. his smile grows. you shift a little more, lying on your side to face him with a serious expression. ”don’t tell satoru that, okay? he already has it out for me. at this rate he’ll kill me and steal you away.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep and fond. you continue, a frown tugging at your lips. ”… and i wouldn’t want you to die for me, anyway.”

suguru lets a giggle slip, a bit too sleepy to hold it back. ”mm, i know. but if it ever came down to it, then i still would.” he shifts, too, lying on his side to face you properly.

”to me,” he exhales, and he’s so close you can smell the mint off his breath — ”as long as you’re by my side, i can make it through absolutely anything.”

the smile on his face is boyish. all teeth and crow’s feet, blooming in the light of the moon, a flower just for you. it’s perfect, you think. you don’t want a single day to pass without you seeing it. 

”me too,” you mumble, linking your pinkies together. a silent promise. ”so don’t die. ever.”

suguru’s eyes soften. 

then he hums, absentmindedly. ”… well. i mean,” he clicks his tongue. ”eventually i will. that’s not really something i have a say in.”

a roll of your eyes. ”alright, smartass,” you scoff, and suguru’s eyes crinkle with humour. ”just don’t die before i do, then.”

a hand comes to touch your skin. and it’s sudden, warm, but you don’t flinch away. suguru smooths over your cheek with the back of his hand, seemingly unable to stop himself. soothing, as he exhales a soft breath.

”… i think i’d prefer that to the alternative, honestly,” he admits.

you furrow your brows, softly. a part of you wants to protest, to call him a selfish prick — for even thinking the thought of leaving you behind without a best friend.

but something in you knows he won’t budge, on this one.

(it’s childish, in a way. stubborn, for him to take a joking conversation so seriously. but suguru doesn’t think he could even jokingly suggest that he’d survive without you.)

”seriously, though,” his voice takes on a firmer tone. ”i wouldn’t leave you behind like that. it’s us we’re talking about. you and me.” 

he says the words like they’re undeniable — because they are. there is no him without you. that’s always been the case, hasn’t it? 

suguru stops to think. do you not feel the same? there’s still a crease between your brows, a sign of worry that’s impossible to dismiss. he can’t help but wonder just how long you’ve been thinking about this; how many nights have you spent sleepless, thinking of the future? of the possibility that it entails your parting?

(the thought makes him feel a little bit nauseous.)

”are you afraid that we’ll grow apart?” he asks, into the haze of the summer night. it resounds in the air around you, softly spoken, gentle but coaxing. almost pleading you to open up to him.

and it’s a stupid question, really. 

of course you are. it’s the only thought that really scares you.

time moves so, so fast — always leaving you behind. who’s to say that suguru won’t do the same? that he won’t be taken away from you, swept away by that flow? into the future, while you stay glued to the past — stuck on the roof of your childhood, while he moves on to better things?

the night sky is infinite. sometimes, on nights that are a little too long, when your mind has grown a little too muddled, you think of suguru as a star in that sky. blinking down at you, while you can do nothing but watch. hopelessly out of reach.

gaze trailing down to rest on suguru’s collarbone, you swallow the lump in your throat. a little too vulnerable to feel comfortable with looking into his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see in them.

but he’s patient. waiting, always waiting, for you to catch up. for as long as it takes.

”… of course i am,” you mutter, at last. a weak little thing. farther down the street, a car swooshes by, drowning the sound — but suguru still hears it clear as day. ”i mean, it’s just…”

a meek intake of breath. you blink, desperate to chase away the glassiness forming in your eyes. trying to grasp control over your wavering voice. ”even if you say that we won’t… it’s not like there’s any guarantee. you can’t know for sure.”

suguru wants to stop you, right there. wants to ensure you that he does know, that it’s the only thing he’ll ever know for sure. just that one fact; you and him. never one without the other.

wherever you’d go, he’d follow — that’s how it’s always been. that’s all he’ll ever need.

but he knows you. knows you better than he knows himself. and he knows that he needs to let you speak freely, without interruption, until you’ve gotten every last worry off your chest.

so he settles for simply looking at you, curled up and biting his lip to stop himself from speaking. wishing he could smooth away the moisture in your eyes, already — but the tears need to fall first. he knows it’ll make you feel better.

”i love you,” you whisper, and suguru’s heart claws its way up his throat. ”i love you, and i want to be with you forever — but…” a shaky inhale. ”but i can’t get rid of that fear. the idea of losing you… i just can’t deal with it.”

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same?” he cuts in, softly. 

a beat. you glance up at his face, for a split second, and then back down to his collarbone. a little fragile, curling into yourself as if hiding. ”i don’t know,” you sigh.

(suguru’s heart breaks.)

”i know that you love me too, and all. and i trust you. but…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. ”you already have your future planned out, and everything. maybe i just… don’t have a place in it.”

suguru scoffs, unable to bite back the sound any longer. it’s soft, but frustrated. ”there’ll always be a place for you in my future,” he vows. ”i wouldn’t accept anything less.”

you cower a little, under the warmth of his gaze. sweet, but stern. so distinctly suguru that it makes you falter.

”besides,” he clicks his tongue. ”i don’t need to follow the future that’s been planned out for me. i just need to be suguru.” a warm smile. ”right?”

at the sound of your own words, a light flush blooms on your skin. but for once, suguru isn’t teasing you.

”and you just need to be you,” he continues, arm still wrapped around your midriff. trailing up slowly, so that his hand can smooth over the back of your head. ”that’s all.”

”as long as both of us do that — we’ll always be together.” he looks into your eyes, and you think you spot a constellation inside his iris. ”won’t we?”

another moment of silence, the familiar comfort that settles between you. there’s no pressure to continue — but you do so, anyway. muddled mind still spinning, worried about this and that, despite suguru’s soothing words. 

a part of you can’t put your faith in that kind of future. one where the two of you are together, that you could envision so clearly when you were younger — when him and you was all that you knew for certain. it’s not as simple as it was back then.

(but another part of you desperately yearns for him to prove you wrong.)

”… but,” you mumble, shaky. ”what if it’s not that easy?” a chuckle pushes past your lips, humourless. ”i mean, you can’t possibly… always stay by my side, you know?”

there’s something childish, in the way you say it. like you’re still kids, and you’re whining for him not to leave you behind. selfish, in a way.

what right do you have to chain him to you?

suguru emits a hum. his eyelids flutter shut, for a few seconds — and then he opens them again. 

”… alright,” he drawls. ”let’s make a promise, then.”

confused, you glance up at him. he just smiles — responsible, dependable. your very best friend.

”have i ever broken a promise i made to you?” he asks, and you pause.

”… no,” you answer, hesitant. voice still a tad meek, a little helpless.

(and it’s true. not once has he broken one. when suguru makes a promise, he keeps it. you’ve always, always admired that about him.)

”right?” he grins, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. admiring your moon-lit features. ”so let’s do it.”

a frown tugs at your lips. furrowing your brows at him, your voice flows out, uncertain. ”promise… what, exactly?”

the moon glows, big and bright. hanging in the sky, a beacon of light, the same as it’s always been. suguru thinks you look radiant, under its illumination — even though you’re nervous, and a little teary eyed. just a single glance at your expression is enough to make his heartbeat soften.

you look like what home feels like. 

he could never bear to let that go, to let you go. his very best friend; the one thing in his past he has no qualms about. the one thing in his future worth hanging onto, cherishing fully. no matter what.

suguru parts his lips, smiling. he links your hands together. ”keep being you,” he implores, steadfast. ”and stay by my side.”

a moment passes. 

something crumbles, inside your chest. unable to break away from his gaze, all you can do is fall deeper into the hue of his eyes, crinkling softly — in the same way they always have. he squeezes your palm in his, tightly. a silent promise not to let you go.

— and then you realize something. the same realization that always comes to you, at the end of the day.

the man in front of you is just the same as the boy you met, all those years ago. the same boy who saw you climb over his fence, and let you pet his cat, and watched whisper of the heart with you even though he wanted to start with ponyo instead.

the same boy, always the same boy, no matter how much time passes. even though he’s all grown up now, features more defined. voice deeper and huskier. hands larger, with rougher skin.

he’s changed, just like you have — but he’s still just suguru. just that cool, sweet boy. a dorky guy who never, ever lets you fall too far behind.

a tremendous softness seeps through your veins. a kind of love, old and matured, carefully nurtured. the blinks you indulge in are slow, and your eyes shine with tears. it’s overwhelming, seeing him so up close, but you still can’t look away. he’s so beautiful it hurts.

”suguru…” is all you can sniffle, meekly.

your best friend is still smiling, fondly. wrapped up in you, as close as he can be. a familiar warmth, like a big fuzzy blanket draped over your shoulders; smelling of cedarwood and earl gray, and just a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. tailor-made just for you.

suguru never breaks his promises.

”but… you can’t,” you croak out, gasping as if searching for air. ”you don’t know if —”

”i do,” he cuts you off, gently. ”i do know.”

a breathless inhale of air, as you grasp tighter onto his nimble fingers. you feel meek, lost. not sure where to put your hands, or what to believe. ”how?” you ask, terribly fragile.

suguru takes a deep breath. oxygen enters his lungs, exiting as he breathes out. a soft flicker of life. his thumb goes to wipe away the stray tear that trickles down your cheek, his touch delicate. and then comes his response.

”— because i need you the way i need air.”

and, really, it’s a sappy thing to say. a little pretentious. he’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the soft flicker of the moon, the intimacy of the moment. he simply couldn’t bear not to tell you the truth — even if you end up bringing it up tomorrow, just to tease him. he can deal with a little embarrassment, every once in a while. just for you.

fortunately for him, no thoughts of teasing run through your mind. maybe if you were in a better headspace, a little less of a wreck, you could muster the will to make fun of him a little. who do you think you are, shakespeare? i knew i shouldn’t have lent you that copy of romeo and juliet. — something light and amused, just to distract him from the rapid beating of your heart. 

but right now…

all you can do is take a deep breath. and you think you understand what he means, when that breath of life courses through your lungs.

”i’ll never leave you behind,” he continues, words so very self-assured that it leaves you reeling. rubbing comforting circles into the skin of your palm, without thinking. muscle memory. ”can you trust me on that?”

connected to his gaze, you stumble for something to say. anything. 

but then he smiles, again. that familiar, familiar smile. as soothing as a mother’s caress. and only one single word makes it past your lips.

”… okay.”

you do trust him. more than anyone else in the world. so you take that leap, no matter how frightening it is —

and the world narrows down to just the two of you.

just you, and him, in this one single moment. illuminated by the light of the moon, lying side by side and looking into each other’s eyes, on a roof you always find yourselves at one way or another. laughing and sharing secrets until the sun begins to rise; a silent promise that needs no words. 

(the promise of tomorrow. a summer that never quite seems to end.)

suguru cups your cheek. his touch buzzes with warmth, trickling down his wrist and through his veins — and you melt into his palm, eyes fluttering shut instinctively. the sight makes the corners of his lips curl up, hopelessly.

leaning close, he plants a kiss on your cheek. delicate, tender; his lips against your skin, a silent whisper of i love you. fervent, full of devotion. of a love that’s as steady as the sea.

”i’ll always, always be by your side,” suguru repeats, like a mantra. hoping you’ll feel his conviction through the whisper. ”you’ll always have me to fall back on. i promise.”

a little smile breaks out across your lips, meek and teary. as fragile as a sheet of glass, but still persisting in the dead of night. your voice wavers, as you raise your pinkie, right in front of his stupidly pretty face.

”pinkie promise?”

it’s a childish gesture. something to lighten the mood a little, make it all easier to chew. you expect him to roll his eyes, or raise an eyebrow, or tease you a bit. but he doesn’t.

instead, suguru raises his own pinkie, and curls it around yours. then he smiles. sweet and boyish, painted over with a rosy, tender nostalgia.

”— pinkie promise.”

and you believe him.

you believe him, because suguru has a way of making you do so, even when he has no idea what the hell he’s talking about. with that confident tilt of his voice, that makes it sound like he has all the answers in the universe — that flicker of genuine faith, in every word that falls from his lips, that tells you he truly does believe in them.

you believe him, because suguru is the only person in the world who’s never once broken a promise he made to you. not a single time. and some part of you suspects that if he ever did, he really would be okay with you cutting his pinkie off. a little frightening, the depths of his devotion. the pure loyalty that courses through his veins.

so you believe him.

you believe him because he’s suguru. and, just like you can't exist without him, he can't exist without you. never one without the other.

on instinct, you inch a little closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him extra tight. face hidden away in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do when you were kids. he’s bigger now, harder to properly embrace — but still so very, very warm. 

and he squeezes you back, just as tight. comforting and grounding, and so, so secure. tugging you closer, like he needs to have you near to properly breathe. like he needs to feel that you’re there to relax, melting into the hug with a soft sigh. relieved, that you’re still with him. relieved at the promise that you always will be. 

wherever you go, he’ll follow. to the roof of his home, to the seaside, to the ends of the earth. the same way every star in the sky orbits around the center of the galaxy, endlessly, before burning out into the night.

the smell of cedarwood and earl gray floods your senses, filling your lungs as you nuzzle into his neck. he’s warm, and soft, and your very best friend. 

you close your eyes. indulging in his body heat, every familiar sensation that’s been etched into your bones for as long as you can remember. and you can tell he’s doing the same — breathing you in, arms resting securely around your back, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

and maybe it’s true, after all. maybe suguru really does need you, just as much as you need him.

and maybe that’s all you really need to know.

the moon rests in the sky. smiling down at you, unchanging. a living proof that some things really do stay the same. 

— you hug suguru tighter, and decide that his presence is proof enough. 

#suguru geto my bicoded princess… #he could fix me. #sugu is suchhh a ghibli boy u cant convince me otherwise. his fave movies are spirited away and porco rosso #(and ponyo but hes a lil embarrassed to say it LOL… he was obsessed w sea animals as a kid. <3 now im just making stuff up but im right) #physically incapable of writing for suguru without giving him a silly reader…. unbeatable dynamic #i have other sugu childhood friends fics planned but some r. Angstier than others #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru x you #geto hurt/comfort #geto angst #geto x reader #geto x you

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

HOME || CHILDHOOD BFF! SIMON 💔

Summary:

Teen Simon and his best friend often spend their nights away from their respective houses because they found a home in each other…

Pairing:

teen!Simon x teen!F!reader

Content Warnings:

This fic gets dark. It references Simon's backstory (from '09), child abuse, domestic violence, child death, arguments, injuries, abandonment issues, drugs, sex, alcohol, youth homelessness, etc.

Check every chapters' tags/cw for specific warnings.

Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Canon Ending (Hurt/No Comfort):

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Non-Canon Ending (Hurt/Comfort):

Alternative Ending

Extras:

Home: Moodboard

Home: Playlist

1st Attempt at a Happy Ending (I don't like it)

[MY MASTERLIST]

#ikea writes 💚 #home cbf!simon fic #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cbf #childhood best friends to lovers #teenage love #physical injuries #cod au #masterlist #teenage rebellion #teen romance #fluff #angst #hurt/no comfort #star crossed lovers

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hi! Would it be possible to see the party or the older group see Steve’s father first hand? Like realizing that Steve’s been abused and learning how much shit he goes through on the daily with them and then his family?

This one was so difficult emotionally. I leaned real heavy into the emotional and verbal abuse (the use of a slur does happen), briefly mentioned some past physical abuse, but then the rest was just some supportive Eddie, supportive Robin, supportive kids, and I threw in some supportive Wayne because I can't resist. I hope the soft supportive stuff makes up for what I put Steve through at the beginning! - Mickala ❤️

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

It was supposed to be the first movie night with all of them together post-Vecna, post-Eddie and Max getting out of the hospital, post-almost losing everything.

It was supposed to be relaxing and fun.

It was not.

Just when they all settled with their snacks and drinks, the movie’s opening credits rolling, a car pulled into the driveway.

Steve did a quick headcount of everyone present, wondering if somehow someone was running late.

But everyone was here.

“Why is every light in the house on?” He heard his dad’s voice ask outside the front door.

Shit.

Everyone looked at Steve, eyes wide, but frozen in place, no idea what to do.

Well, he didn’t know what to do either.

Last time he saw his dad was his high school graduation, and that hadn’t ended well. They’d only spoken on the phone twice since then: once when he told him about the mall fire and once about the pool cleaner going out of business.

Before he could think of what to do or say, his dad was walking into the living room.

That was the same scowl Steve got when he didn’t get into college.

Oh boy.

“Steven. Care to explain why I have a house full of children and teenagers?”

He didn’t know what came over him; Maybe it was just a false bravado put on because he knew his dad wouldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people or maybe he just had a thoughtless reaction.

“They’re all teenagers actually. We’re having movie night.”

His dad’s face went nearly purple with rage.

Not just anger. Pure, unfiltered, and completely undeserved rage.

Eddie spoke up first, thankfully distracting the kids from the explosion that was probably about to occur.

“It’s been so nice of Steve to open up his home to kids who needed a place to go to stay out of trouble. After the quake, it’s been difficult, you know?”

How he managed to say any of that with a straight face, Steve didn’t know.

But he was grateful.

His dad looked around at the mix of kids.

To an outsider, their group definitely didn’t make sense.

To his dad, he’d see a bunch of kids he didn’t know suddenly aware of where all of his valuables in his house were.

“And you are?”

Richard Harrington’s scowl had lessened slightly, but disgust started taking over as he looked at Eddie.

“Oh! I’m Eddie Munson. Yes, related to that Munson, but only by blood.”

Eddie was confident, calm, not backing down even a little as Richard’s eyes squinted at him, judgment clear as day on his face.

“Steven, I need to speak with you alone.”

His dad didn’t give him a chance to respond before he was walking out of the room towards the kitchen.

Everyone was looking at Steve, he could feel their looks burning the back of his and side of his face. Eddie and Robin were closest to him, so he could see out of the corner of his eyes their panic at the situation.

Steve got up and walked to the kitchen, no one trying to stop him because no one knew what his father was capable of.

He never let them know what his father was capable of.

When he got to the kitchen, his father was sipping a glass of water, his stance more relaxed but still too stiff to be considered casual.

“Where’s mom?” Steve asked hesitantly, quietly, the way he’d been taught from a young age to approach his dad.

“She’s with friends in Jamaica. We’ll be meeting up in New York in two days. Care to explain what the hell is going on?”

Steve gulped.

He wasn’t yelling yet, but he wasn’t whispering either. He knew the group of kids in the other room would be listening to every single movement and breath in here, ready to burst in if needed.

“It’s like Eddie said, they just need somewhere to hang out and I have plenty of space-“

“You? You have plenty of space? Since when do you pay the bills here? Since when is the mortgage in your name?”

His dad was good at the false calm, the even tone, the emotionless face.

Until he wasn’t.

“Sorry. I’ll take them home.”

Steve bit his lip. It’s been a while since he had to deal with his father like this, and the tears he normally could hold back until he was in his room were threatening to fall already.

“You drive them around, too? Do you feed them? Take them to appointments? What don’t you do for them? And that Eddie guy, you know his dad’s been in prison for six years for drug trafficking and grand theft auto? You want someone like that in my house?” His dad set his water down on the counter next to him. “That girl. Is she your girlfriend? Who are her parents? I don’t think I’ve seen her before. You know what we’ve told you about setting the right future with the right woman. If we don’t know her parents, then she can’t be the right one.”

Steve could do this. He could just let his dad get it all out and then get everyone to leave and hide in his room.

Maybe it wouldn’t even be a problem tomorrow, forgotten like he always was.

“Are you going to answer me or am I supposed to read your mind?”

Steve cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out strong and confident.

“I’m their babysitter, so I take care of them when they need it and sometimes that means driving them places. Robin isn’t my girlfriend, she’s just a friend.”

He couldn’t talk about Eddie, and he hoped his dad didn’t push it.

But his dad always pushed it.

“Eddie Munson is not to come into this house again. I’m calling to get the locks changed tomorrow and contacting the neighbors to tell them to call my secretary if they see his van.”

“Dad, wait-“

“Are you arguing with me?”

His face had gone red, and Steve knew he was only reigning it in because of the people in the living room.

He knew when they left, he’d wish he left too.

“No, sir. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t really sound like you mean it. You know, I was hoping that you would have reapplied to colleges for next year by now. I thought surely having a job and focusing on your future would set you on the right path. That maybe you and Nancy Wheeler would work it out by the time she graduated. Clearly, I should’ve been requiring updates more often. Adulthood isn’t about babysitting, Steven. And it’s certainly not about entertaining friends unless you plan on making a business deal.”

Steve was used to the spiel.

This job is temporary. You have to go to college. You will work for me. You will make our name proud. Blah, blah, blah.

But that’s never been what he wants. He knows his dad knows that, probably gave up hope when he was in high school anyway, but wouldn’t let it go. The opportunity to degrade him would always be the most important thing.

“It’s been a really busy month.”

“Oh has it? Please explain how you’ve had a busy month.”

He crossed his arms and waited for Steve to start talking.

Steve knew he’d already lost.

He’d never won before, so it shouldn’t be as disappointing as it is.

“Just with the quake and everything.”

“The house is fine. This whole neighborhood is fine. There’s plenty of places still open for work. I’m not sure why you think that’s an excuse.”

“I was dealing with some injuries and helping a few of the people out there with theirs.”

“So you got paid for being a nurse?”

“No. I didn’t get paid, I just helped.”

Steve was met with silence. Silence was almost worse than yelling.

“And you expect me to take you seriously as someone who is jobless, not going to college, and is helping people for free?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. If he said yes, his father would do that laugh that he did when he couldn’t believe how stupid Steve was and then yell and who knows what else. If he said no, he would go straight to yelling about how Steve can’t be taken seriously if he doesn’t even take himself seriously.

He heard some movement in the other room, whispering, then the front door opening.

Good. If they were gone, Steve wouldn’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed of what his dad would say or do.

The front door closed and Steve’s shoulders dropped. He wasn’t relaxed, but he was settling into what he knew was coming in, preparing for the verbal beatdown followed by whatever physical blow his father thought was appropriate for him.

“Don’t even want to explain yourself? Not even try?” Richard let out a small huff. “You know, I told your mom that you must be working so much, and that’s why you never answered the phone when we called. I stuck up for you, even though a small part of my brain kept saying that I shouldn’t. You’ve never impressed me before, why would you start now?”

Steve looked down at the floor, knowing he would only get away with it for a few more seconds at this rate.

“And then I even started mentioning to my buddies that you must be putting in so much effort with college applications, giving them an honest go so you could follow your girlfriend wherever she goes. But that just wouldn’t happen, would it? Nancy will go to an Ivy League school, make a name for herself, impress the world. And what will you do, Steven? You can’t even impress me.”

“You know, I’m used to shitty parenting. I had a mom who thought drugs were more important than me and a dad who spent more time in a jail cell than with me. But you’re real special, Richard.”

Eddie walked into the kitchen, face red with an anger that looked like it could match Steve’s dad.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You haven’t spent more than a few hours with your kid since he was probably in diapers, and even the time you do spend with him is probably just you letting him know how disappointed you are that he isn’t the smartest person alive.”

“You have no right-”

“Oh, I do, though. See, Steve is the reason I’m even alive. And while you may think that’s not a gift, maybe you even think the world would be better off without me, a whole lot of people are glad I’m still around, including Steve. In fact, pretty sure most of the kids you saw in that living room before wouldn’t be alive without him. Robin sure wouldn’t be. You only put value in what Steve can do to make you look better and how much earning potential he has, and forget that his value comes from the fact that he cares so deeply about all of us and does whatever it takes for us to be safe and happy.”

“I don’t see how that is a benefit to me or to him in the long run, and I’d appreciate if you watch your-”

“It is truly amazing how Steve turned out the way he did when you so clearly couldn’t be bothered being a parent.” Eddie shook his head. “Actually, I take that back. It’s clearly in large part because you didn’t bother trying that he managed to turn out okay.”

“Eds,” Steve started, holding a hand out to him to try to get him to stop.

Richard was starting to get the purple color to his face that meant he would be completely losing it soon.

“No, Steve. Let him take it out on me. If he wants to be mad, he can be mad at me. I don’t give a shit what he thinks about me. I don’t give a shit what he says to me. I don’t give a shit if he wants to hit me. Go ahead and do it, Richard. Take out your anger about being a shitty human and having a shitty marriage and shitty job on me instead of Steve for once.”

Eddie moved in front of Steve, head held high like he was proud to be there.

Like he would always stand in front of Steve if he let him.

Steve didn’t want to let him, though. Not after all he did to keep him safe and alive.

Steve’s first ever concussion didn’t come from an accident, or an alternate dimension creature. It came from his dad hitting just a bit too hard, aiming just right over his ear. His ear didn’t stop ringing for days, and he had his first real migraine for more than 24 hours.

No one knew that and he wanted to keep it that way, but he needed Eddie to understand he couldn’t put himself in the line of fire here.

“Eddie, please.”

Then Richard laughed.

Steve hated his laugh.

“I see now. I can’t believe you’ve found a new way to let me down, but you did it. I’m almost impressed, Steven.”

Steve glanced between Eddie’s face and his dad’s.

Something had shifted and Steve didn’t know what.

“You know I didn’t believe the rumors about you being a fag, just thought you were weird and a nobody and people were spewing extra bullshit because they didn’t like you. Now I see they were right,” Richard practically spit the last words.

Steve could see Eddie shaking in front of him, but he didn’t back down. He didn’t run.

“And you went and fell in love with my idiot son. Steve, did he turn you into one too?”

“Steve, you don’t have to answer anything,” Eddie said without turning to him.

Steve’s brain was going about 100 miles per hour.

He knew Eddie liked men. They’d talked about it when he accidentally came out when he was high on morphine in the hospital. He even offered to drive him and Robin to a place in Indy where they might actually meet someone.

He turned it down then and they barely spoke about it since.

He watched as Eddie’s entire body tensed, like he expected Steve to hit him.

Then the other part registered. The part where his dad said Eddie fell in love with Steve.

Steve laughed.

Eddie flinched.

Steve stopped laughing.

“This is gold. You didn’t even know, did you Steven?”

For the first time, Eddie was looking down at the floor, his hair falling in front of him to hide his face.

Steve wasn’t having it, not now, not from his dad, not because of something like this. Even if it was true…well, if it was true, then Eddie didn’t deserve it coming out like this.

“You know what? You’ve spent my entire life telling me who I should be. You worked so hard to mold me into a person as miserable as you. You almost succeeded. Luckily, I met people who made me want to be better, who made me better. Eddie is one of those people. He says I saved him, but he saved me first. He only needed saving because he wanted me to live. You didn’t even bother to come home to make sure I was okay after the quake.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’re a grown man. We would have been called if you were in the hospital.”

“No you wouldn’t. You haven’t been my emergency contact in three years.”

His dad went pale at that.

“What do you mean? Who else?”

“Joyce Byers was, and then since last summer, it’s been Robin. They actually would come if I needed them.”

Eddie seemed to regain some of his composure, looking up at Richard with disdain.

“Kind of crazy how your son has so many people who love him for who he is and you can’t even be bothered to show up when he almost dies.” Eddie turned to Steve with a small, sad smile. “C’mon. Robin took the kids home in my van and I need a ride.”

“Steven, if you walk out the door, you better understand you won’t be welcome back here. Not with the disrespect you’ve shown me.”

“And the disrespect you’ve shown me? Eddie? My friends? What about that?”

Richard was silent, his teeth gritting together as he seethed to himself instead of out loud for once.

“Stevie, go grab some stuff from your room just in case, okay? I’ll wait here,” Eddie whispered.

“Eds, it’s fine. I won’t leave you alone with him,” Steve whispered back.

“I’m fine, Stevie. You can stay with me and Wayne tonight.”

Steve decided now wasn’t the time to talk, not while his father could hear.

He pulled Eddie along with him up the stairs, not giving him or his dad a chance to say anything else.

He grabbed the bag he kept under his bed for this kind of situation, already full of his savings, two sets of clothes, and important papers his dad probably didn’t even know he kept copies of: his birth certificate and social security card, the registration for the car showing it was in Steve’s own name, and the official copies of his trust fund documents.

He didn’t even know if Eddie had tried speaking to him again since coming in the room, he was too focused on getting out of there.

He thought about what he would do if his dad changed the locks before he could come back to get the rest of his stuff, which was likely.

He could find new clothes, he could replace his shampoo, but he glanced at his desk, where he kept pictures on a corkboard.

“Can you grab that board?”

Eddie looked over where Steve was staring and quickly grabbed it off the hooks on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“Anything you need.”

Steve tried not to think about it. He really did.

So he rushed back out of his room, down the stairs, and to the front door, Eddie close on his heels.

He got in his car, didn’t even stop to think about this being the last time he may be here.

Once Eddie closed the passenger door, he was backing out of the driveway and continuing out of the neighborhood.

They rode in silence for a couple miles, until Steve’s hands started shaking and Eddie told him to pull over.

“I’m gonna drive, okay? Robin’s probably waiting at mine already.”

Steve couldn’t argue, he knew he was too emotional to be behind the wheel. He may have only had a few more miles to go, but anything could happen if he wasn’t focused.

He zoned out on the rest of the drive. Eddie could have been trying to talk, but he didn’t hear it. The radio may have been on, but he didn’t hear it.

He didn’t even notice when they arrived at Eddie’s trailer until his door was opening and Robin was there, hands on his arms and rambling nervously.

“Oh my God, did he hurt you? I will go back there right now if you have so much as a hair out of place. He is such an asshole. Seriously, who does he think he is talking to you like that? Does he always say that kinda stuff? You need to get out of there. You can sleep in my attic or something, we’ll figure it out. I-”

“Robin, give him some air,” Eddie said softly, pulling her away from him and leaning down so he was face to face with Steve. “Stevie, do you wanna go inside? I’ll take Robin home and you can get settled.”

“Wait. He’s staying here tonight? Is he gonna live here now?” Robin was asking, pacing behind Eddie.

“He’s staying here tonight and maybe longer. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow. For now, he just needs to get inside and rest, okay?”

“Did he hurt him?”

“No, Robbie. He didn’t put his hands on him.”

“But he hurt him.”

Eddie sighed and nodded.

Steve looked at him, then at her, giving them both a small smile.

“I’m okay guys. I can drive Robin home. Maybe get a motel for the week.”

“Steve.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Eddie put his hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

“You’re not fine. You can stay with me tonight and we can figure it out more tomorrow, okay?”

Steve knew he wasn’t going to win. They’d take his keys and carry him into Eddie’s trailer. They would make all the kids come over to make sure he wouldn’t leave.

He loved them for it.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said with relief. “Alright, Robbie. Get in the van, I’ve got a date with my couch tonight I just can’t miss.”

Robin rolled her eyes, but Steve was already zoning out again.

“Stevie? Wayne’s up, I see the light on. He can help you get settled.”

“He won’t be upset?”

Eddie’s face fell.

“No, swe-” Eddie cleared his throat. “He won’t be upset. He’ll be happy to have someone other than me to talk to.”

Steve nodded once, grabbed his bag from the floor by his feet, and got out of his car.

He could feel Robin and Eddie staring as he made his way into the trailer, heard their muttering, but not quite what they were muttering.

Being inside the trailer felt different, better. It felt like a home. Wayne had worked hard on making it cozy the moment the government had it brought here to replace their old one.

But Steve realized even without a lot of things, it still felt lived in.

He could feel how much love was in these walls, how safe he felt just standing in the living room.

“Eddie, that you?” Wayne called from the bathroom down the hall.

“No, sir, it’s Steve!”

“Steve!” Wayne came around the corner with a towel around his neck, shaving cream on his face. “Didn’t expect you. Thought it was movie night tonight.”

“Um. It was. I’m staying here tonight if that’s okay,” Steve said, looking down at the floor and kicking one foot against the carpet.

He could feel Wayne staring at him, but he didn’t think he had the strength to see him turn him away.

“Of course it’s okay. You’re welcome anytime, you know that.”

Steve nodded.

“You know where Eddie’s room is, go ahead and set your stuff in there. I’ll finish up and then grab you something to drink. Want a snack?”

“Oh. Um. No thank you. I’m pretty tired, so I think I might just go to bed.”

“You sure, kid?”

“Mhm. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

Wayne was coming closer, he could see his feet shuffling against the carpet.

A hand was suddenly on Steve’s shoulder.

“Son, I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I know I ain’t lettin’ you leave here tomorrow without talkin’ first. You ain’t botherin’ me if you need to stay here for a bit. We don’t have much, but we can figure it out.”

Steve sniffled. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t.

“Steve. Can I…shit, hold on. I got stuff on my face. Don’t move!”

Steve waited for Wayne to go back to the bathroom. He heard the sink turn on and Wayne grumbled something about how long it takes to get hot water in this dump. He let himself smile, mostly because Eddie had done the same thing when he was having to take careful showers while he was still healing. Wayne was walking back out of the bathroom, using the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“Can I hug you, kid?”

Steve just stared at him.

“Steve? You can say no. Just seemed like you might need one.”

He did need one.

Before he comprehended what he was doing, he fell into Wayne’s arms and let out a sob.

“It’s alright, son. It’s gonna be alright. We’ve got ya. Whatever it is, you’re safe here.”

His words just made Steve sob harder.

But Wayne gripped him harder, not even giving him the chance to think he was letting him go.

They stood like that for a while, probably too long, but Steve couldn’t pull away.

He heard the front door open and then Eddie asking something.

“Just needed to cry it out a little. You alright, Steve?”

Steve sniffed, pulling away so he could look at Eddie.

Eddie was watching him, concerned eyes watery with unshed tears.

“Stevie? Have you been crying the whole time?”

“No,” Steve said, his voice barely able to choke out a response.

“How about you boys head on to bed? I’m gonna be watchin’ my shows for a bit if you need me.”

“Alright, love you,” Eddie said, not taking his eyes off of Steve.

“Love ya both,” Wayne said.

Steve was at least able to hold himself together until he made it to Eddie’s room.

Then, he let go.

He let himself fall to his knees, let himself fall apart, for probably the first time ever.

He didn’t think about what Eddie would do or what Eddie would say or even what Eddie would think.

He just let himself feel the overwhelming sadness that comes from not being loved by a parent.

“Sweetheart, come here,” Eddie said into his ear as he pulled him to his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. Let it out. You’ve held it in too long.”

He had. God, he really had.

For years, he just pretended his dad was an asshole who didn’t come home often and had high expectations. He pretended his mom was just an important part of his business and that’s why she never bothered to stay home with him.

But for years, he knew that his parents just didn’t like him. They were disappointed in him as a son, and as a person.

He cried for the ten year old version of him who didn’t realize it would be his last birthday with his parents at home. He cried for the 12 year old version of him who had to forge a signature on his field trip form because his parents hadn’t been home in a month. He cried for the 16 year old version of him who was old enough not to need his parents most of the time but not old enough to be completely alone after his world turned upside down.

He cried for the version of him who couldn’t understand how so many people put their lives on the line for him, but his own parents couldn’t even call.

He cried because he knew that he would never be loved or accepted by his parents the way Wayne had just wholeheartedly accepted him, no questions asked.

“Stevie, you gotta take a few deep breaths, okay. In and out. Wanna try it with me?”

Steve felt the rumble of Eddie’s voice in his chest against his ear, felt him take a deep breath and tried to copy him, but his chest hurt and he couldn’t.

“Try again.”

So he did. And then again.

By the fourth time, it was easier. His lungs filled all the way, and he slowly let the air out. His face was wet, Eddie’s shirt was wet. He could feel snot dripping from his nose.

He knew Eddie didn’t sign up for this when he offered his place for the night.

He started to pull away, furiously wiping his eyes and face the best he could.

“Sorry. I’ll uh. I can go.”

“Steve,” Eddie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back so his back was against Eddie’s chest. “I want you to stay, okay? I need you to stay. I’ll feel better if you stay.”

Steve relaxed against Eddie’s body, the comfort too nice to give up at the moment.

They stayed like that for a while, Eddie’s fingers tracing shapes against Steve’s arms.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“Was he right?”

“About what?”

“You being in love with me?”

Eddie’s fingers stopped tracing for a moment, but then started back up. He could hear Eddie’s heartbeat quicken behind him.

“Would it be bad if he was right?”

Eddie sounded like he was going to cry now.

“No. It wouldn’t be bad at all.”

Steve knew he was emotional, and maybe now wasn’t the time to have this talk. Maybe they wouldn’t even have the whole talk they should have. But he knew that he wanted to tell Eddie what he’d been thinking about for, truly, weeks now.

“You remember in the hospital when you were high on morphine and you kept touching my cheek and telling me that you wanted to kiss the freckle that was right where I should have a dimple?”

“I don’t and I wish you didn’t.”

Steve let out a snort.

“Well, I couldn’t forget about it. And not just because you also had just come out to me, or because you were alive. I just kept thinking about how much I wanted you to kiss that freckle.”

“Stevie…”

“I know you’re gonna tell me we shouldn’t do this tonight. You’re right, we shouldn’t. But I need you to know that it’s not a new thing for me, that I love you, too.”

He felt a kiss to the top of his head.

It felt like Eddie just kissed every worry, every stress, every bad part of the night away.

“You’re right about not doing anything tonight. You’ve had a lot of emotions and you need to sleep it off a bit. But I’ll be right next to you. I’m here, Stevie. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“You’ll stay here tonight?”

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

“Mhm. I do.”

“Let’s get comfy then.”

Steve pulled away to stand up, but Eddie held his hand so he wouldn’t stand yet.

“We’re not doing anything, but. I kinda need to kiss you. If you’re good with that,” Eddie said, eyes wide with hope.

“I’m good with that,” Steve smirked.

When Eddie leaned in to kiss him, he kept his eyes open. Only long enough to see Eddie’s close and a small smile appear on his face, but it was a moment he would never forget. The first of so many moments he would never forget.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #wayne munson #hurt/comfort #emotional and physical abuse is mentioned #emotional abuse does happen in this #everyone is very protective of steve #especially eddie #ficlet #request

[imagine-darksiders]

So, what do you think of this? Bowser sees Y/N in an extreme state of danger, like, I dunno, trying to be taken against her will by an arranged Prince suitor or something, and the state of her distress/fear get's him so mad he transforms into Giga Bowser.

Well, first of all, I have done nothing BUT think of this for the past week! Thanks so much for the inspiration! Here's a little drabble <3

TW: Physical abuse, Kidnapping, Captive Reader, Implied arranged marriage, Giga Bowser is kinda scary? Mentions of being eaten etc

----

Bowser's thunderous footsteps come grinding to a halt of their own accord, stilling the colossal Koopa in his tracks at the opposite end of the docks, his eyes bulging open at the sight that looms out of the mist to greet him.

He's found you, his little runaway, for which he's rendered breathless with palpable relief.

But to his mounting dismay, there's another human with you.

A stranger...

A man.

And not only is this man encroaching well into your personal space, but his hands have captured your wrists as well, keeping you anchored in place with his chest shoved firmly against yours.

The pair of you are so wrapped up in the presence of the other, that neither one of you notices the King lurking nearby.

For a single beat, Bowser almost can't tear his wild-eyed stare away from the fingertips squeezing into your supple skin.

But then, he hears your voice, laden with thick and palpable alarm that's badly disguised by the composure you're attempting to maintain.

“Falkner, please,” you're shakily telling the other human, “Whatever agreement you may have had with my father is null and void now that he's dead!”

“Bullshit!” the stranger is quick to contend, giving you a rough jostle that throws fuel on the fire already raging in Bowser's gut, “Your old man promised you to me! I didn't sail halfway around the world just to be told no!”

Neither of you register the Koopa, not even when he lowers his horned head and takes a heavy, dangerous step towards you, his hackles starting to rise just like his gorge.

Just who the Hell does this idiot think he is to speak to you so crassly?!

Another step sends the pebbles near his feet skittering across the ground.

Your jaw is set, but you continue to tug at your ensnared wrists as you retort, “Promises made in a drunken stupor are hardly binding agreements!”

The man's face is swiftly changing from sallow and pallid to a vivid crimson and he parts his lips to shout, “You are mine by rights! You're coming with me!”

“Let me GO!” At last, perhaps inevitably, your voice cracks.

Bowser's jaw aches with how tightly his fangs are wedged together.

He can feel a fireball trying to crawl its way up his throat, leaving a sting that burns like venom along the walls of his trachea, but he gulps it down. No matter how great and terrible his rage might grow, he'd be remiss to let an attack loose with you so close to the firing line.

But there's something else building in his chest. Something swollen and ugly that rumbles like a slumbering giant just underneath his scales when he sees the moisture glistening on your dainty eyelashes.

Bowser hasn't ever seen you cry. Not even when he informed you that you'd be a permanent guest at his castle. Not even when it dawned on you that you could never go back to your old home across the seas. Not even when you fell from your window during an escape attempt and sprained your ankle, and the pain was great enough that you actually clung to him as he lifted you gently into his arms, your lips stuffed together to refrain from whimpering.

So to see you this close to tears now instills an outrage in him that differs from his usual temper. This is tumultuous. Primal, even.

He wants you to notice him now, to glance over and see that he's here for you, that you'll be all right because Bowser would never let anything bad happen to you.

Heart aflame, his pace quickens to a lurching gallop.

With a wrench, you manage to free one of your hands from Falkner's grip and use it to pry his fingers from your remaining wrist. “I said, GET! OFF!”

The anger in Bowser's chest dims only slightly to make room for a burst of pride.

But that momentary delight is stamped out as swiftly as it comes.

In an awful, jarring instant, the man - evidently fed up with your continued resistance – reels his hand back into the air behind his head, fingers pressed together, open-palmed...

Bowser can see the disaster unfurling right in front of him, but his shame is in knowing that he was too slow to stop it from happening.

The hand hurtles forwards...

A harrowing 'CRACK' ruptures the air as calloused skin meets the vulnerable flesh of your cheek.

Your head is flung sideways and you cry out, eyes wide with shock, and it's only then that your startled gaze land upon your audience. Cheek humming, the tears finally spill over the walls of your eyelids, tumbling in ceaseless rivulets down your face.

You choke on a wet sob, unable to drag your gaze away from the Koopa.

You can't summon the will to be pleased for his interference, if anything, you're ashamed to have been caught by your captor in a moment of such vulnerability.

Perhaps it's the tears distorting your vision, or perhaps the slap had knocked something loose in your brain, but through blurred vision, you think you can see a change come over Bowser, and if you didn't know any better, you'd almost swear that he was growing.

A hiss from your side catches your attention, but you don't turn to look at Falkner, though you can see him flapping his hand about to rid it of the lingering sting. “Damn,” he sucks a breath through his teeth, “Now look what you made me do... If you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't've had to do-” He finally notices the ground trembling beneath his leather boots. "-that...?"

Whatever had been hiding under the surface of Bowser's scales is howling out with rage, stirred from its slumber by the vicious and unprovoked attack on his friend.

Muscles ripple and bulge as they expand, bones snap, twisting out of shape. The Koopa King's gums burn as his fangs grow longer, sharper, squeaking against one another whilst his rapidly changing jaw struggles to keep up with their rate of growth.

It's agony, this transformation, but it can't be helped.

His friend has been struck. Hurt. And everything in him, every last instinct and sinew and atom, is bellowing out at him that he needs to protect you.

He would swallow this agony over and over again if it keeps you from experiencing pain.

He may be monstrous in size and temperament, but he isn't a monster.

He can't be...

Anger feeds into his expanding body, giving itself more space to spread like a wildfire, or perhaps more like a wave of churning acid that washes through his veins and takes the place of his blood.

It must... Because his body feels as if it's corroding.

“What the HELL is that?!”

Falkner's shriek adequately echoes your own inner monologue.

And you thought Bowser was terrifying before.

The tyrant must be absolutely livid with you for managing to escape from your room. If only you hadn't run into Sir Falkner on the docks. You went looking for a rescue party, but the man who did come to 'rescue' you might be even worse than King Bowser. At least Bowser, for all his uninvited clinginess, had never raised a hand against you.

Now though, locked in his blood-red stare, you start to wonder if you've pushed your luck just a step too far.

Pounding footsteps take off behind you, slapping against the cobblestone as Falkner simply turns tail and runs, leaving you frozen in place with your limbs as rigid as petrified wood, like your body knows instinctively that to turn your back and run from something with teeth that sharp is a very bad idea.

Inevitably, Bowser's head shoots up almost the moment Falkner starts to flee, and you're helpless but to watch on in horror as a gigantic paw surges over your head and snatches your would-be suitor right off the ground, hoisting the man up into the air.

Falker's resulting scream chills you down to the marrow in your bones, so wracked with terror and urgency that it sets your teeth on edge.

The oversized Koopa draws the thrashing human up to his maw and peels back his thick, rubbery lips, giving Falkner an uninterrupted view of his fate.

A constant growl spills between gleaming fangs, each one about the length of your own forearm, and the sound itself is loud enough that it could be mistaken for an unending grumble of far-off thunder, easily drowning out the man's screams.

It's gruesome to see. Your imagination runs wild with awful possibilities that you pray don't come to pass. Trembling in your boots, you lower your gaze to stare unblinkingly at the ground instead whilst short, sharp breaths fall out of your lungs, coming fast enough to leave you feeling light-headed.

Slowly, carefully, you take a single step back.

This might be your only chance to escape.

But then, like a damning acknowledgement of your cowardice, Falkner screams your name.

“Y/N!” he screeches, his back arched against the pain of being crushed in Bowser's grip, “HELP ME! PLEASE!”

'...You don't have to help him,' logic whispers into your ear, set on self-preservation, 'Nobody but his mother would miss him. He's a bad person, and you're not a hero.'

No. You're not a hero. And it certainly wouldn't be heroic to save a man like Falkner, who does more harm than good most days.

Bowser's immense jaws part in reaction to the human's screams, and his growl explodes into a deafening roar that blasts the man's hair back and forces him to pinch his eyes firmly shut.

Similarly, you raise your hands and slap them over your ears, teeth grit until the sound starts to fade. You can only imagine what the volume had done to Falkner's eardrums.

Even through the cushioning of your palms, you still hear him crying out once more, “DO SOMETHING!”

… Your head twists slowly towards a little wooden boat that bobs invitingly on the nearby docks. You're strong enough to work the oars, you could very easily jump into it, raise the little, white sail and let the wind carry you far out to sea, away from this place.

Away from Bowser.

This could be your only shot of escaping imprisonment and going home.

“I beg of you!”

… You could...

“Y/N!”

… Oh, damn it all.

Your eyes snap back up to Falkner and you immediately start to feel the burning of your cheek, as if to remind you of what he did.

But already, your scruples are disintegrating. A direct cry for help is a tough thing to ignore, after all.

On shaking knees, you reclaim the step you'd made in retreat and instead move towards Bowser, tipping your head back and peeling your tongue from the roof of your bone-dry mouth. “B-!” You falter on the first syllable and have to swallow roughly before trying again. “Bowser!”

Almost as soon as it had begun, the thunderous roar falls silent, echoing off in the distance until it's lost over the crashing waves.

Falkner continues to gasp and whimper inside the colossal fist, but those haunting, blood-red eyes turn gradually in your direction, pinning you once again in their subtle glow.

Your legs threaten to buckle as you realise he's now focusing solely on you.

You've no idea if he can be reasoned with in this state, but you know you can't do much else but try. “Release him, Bowser!” you yelp without an ounce of any real authority, “I'm the one who ran from you! Not him! Put him down!”

The docks are still and disarmingly placid for a time, disturbed only by the sounds of Falkner struggling to free himself, and the breaths that enter and leave a set of gargantuan lungs.

The hulking Koopa continues to glower down at you, his nostrils flared wide to reveal a red-hot glow from within, like a burning core.

Just as you begin to fear that your plea will go unheeded, Bowser hisses through his fangs, and then, without much ceremony, he simply opens his fist and Falkner goes tumbling out of it, landing awkwardly on his ankle and eliciting a yelp of pain. Still, he wastes no time in whirling over onto his backside and kicking madly to push himself out from under the behemoth's shadow.

You follow his retreat from the corner of an eye, but you don't break Bowser's stare.

You daren't, even as he takes a lumbering step in your direction. The ground underneath your shudders with the impact, as though the island itself is afraid of his wrath.

Another step covers much of the distance between you, and the realisation that he's coming your way snaps you out of your trance. You've given Falkner a chance to escape. Now, you'll be taking yours.

Skirts flying, you whip yourself about and take off in a dead sprint. Behind you, the air quivers as Bowser releases an urgent chuff, the heat from his breath washing disconcertingly over the back of your neck and spurring you to kick up your heels.

However, you barely make it ten paces before a colossal palm suddenly descends from the sky and crashes into the ground just ahead of you. You let out a yelp and hit the brakes, but you've already come too close to his hand, and so, like a venus fly trap closes around a hapless insect, Bowser's fingers spring to action, sweeping you up off your feet and pinning you against the soft, warm leather of his palm.

“No, no, no!” you bleat, scrabbling desperately at thick scales as the ground falls away below you and you find yourself lifted up to Bowser's big, yellow muzzle.

All you can do is wait for the crunch. For the pain. To hear your bones grind together when he eventually clenches his fist.

You're ashamed to cry in front of him, but you're too afraid to stop. Nausea churns your stomach and you screw up your face in anticipation, eyes clamped tightly closed.

The agony of waiting is almost too much for you to bear.

You're too wrapped up in your fear to notice that Bowser has yet to even slightly tighten his grasp. If anything, his hold is shockingly gentle. The pad of an immense thumb is pressed against your belly, exerting just enough pressure to keep you safely tucked in the hollow of his palm.

Several, unbearable seconds tick by whilst you quiver and breathe as though you've just run a mile.

You nearly lose your composure, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself from demanding that he just get your punishment over with.

And then, you feel it.

A gentle pressure, so light that you'd think a butterfly must have landed on your neck, but when your eyes burst open and you catch sight of a monolithic finger all but filling your field of view, you realise what a fool you were to close your eyes at all.

Bowser, it seems, has raised his unoccupied hand towards you, and the very tip of a single claw has come to rest in the hollow of your throat. You can feel it's ghosting presence as you swallow thickly and your larynx presses a little more solidly against it for all of a second.

You're too stunned to make a move.

With a gentleness that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lifts his claw, and in doing so, your head is pushed up, then turned slightly to one side, exposing your cheek.

The cheek that had been viciously struck.

Why is he...?

Pinned under the weight of his scrutiny, you fall utterly motionless, your mouth stuck open as if you're emitting a silent scream.

A lonely tear escapes the confines of your lashes and trickles down to your chin when it dangles precariously for a before it falls, plopping down onto Bowser's fingertip.

The behemoth's muzzle shifts close, and those dark and dangerous eyes narrow to thin slits as he inspects your cheek. You'd almost entirely forgotten about the throbbing ache lancing across your face, and even now, adrenaline is doing wonders at keeping most of the discomfort at bay.

All of a sudden, Bowser's pupils shrink and a thrum of aggression starts up in his chest like the engine of some ancient and powerful machine. Drawing his head away from you, he twists it over his bulging shoulder and aims a vicious snarl in the direction that Falkner had fled.

You can't help but flinch when his fingers twitch around you, but he must have noticed the movement, because not a second later, the growl is cut off and he swings his nose around to peer down at you again, his slitted pupils expanding like ink in water once they land on you.

Your pulse is jackhammering against your skin. Nothing about this is adding up. He seems more agitated about Falkner than about you. But... you're the escaped prisoner...

You don't have much time to ponder over his strange behaviour though. Just as carefully as it had appeared, the Koopa's forefinger slides gradually from beneath your chin and you can finally gulp down a greedy breath of air, realising belatedly that you'd stopped breathing the moment he touched you.

All around you, the behemoth starts to move, pulling you close and tucking you against his chest as he takes step after impossibly lengthy step, turning his immense bulk about to head back across the island to your gloomy, familiar prison.

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

You used to wonder if it was simply Bowser's ostentatious taste in décor that made him choose such grand, wide doorways to separate the rooms of his castle. Now however, as the gargantuan Koopa squeezes himself through the entrance to your given chambers, his shell scraping noisily against the wooden doorframes, you realise the design might lend more to practicality than aesthetic, especially if this... transformation happens on a regular basis around here.

God, you hope not...

You've remained stiff as a board in Bowser's unwavering grasp all the way back, fearful of provoking a violent reaction out of him like you had when you tried to struggle out of Falkner's grip.

Shoulders sagging as he releases a massive sigh, the Koopa trundles to a stop at the foot of your bed and at long, long last, he peels you away from his chest. Your ears ring after so much time spent having to listen to a mighty heart thudding rhythmically right next to your head.

Again, with a care that you certainly never would have expected him to possess, Bowser cups you in his palms and lowers you onto the plush sheets, sliding his hands out from underneath you as if he's placing down a fragile, porcelain doll.

As soon as you're out of his grasp, he deflates, heaving a billowing breath and all but dropping onto all fours in front of you. Alarmed, you scramble backwards until your spine hits the bed's headboard, blurting out a yelp when Bowser's chin drops down to thwack on the sheets in front of you. The weight of his skull alone causes the bed to buckle and groan in protest, but to your astonishment, it somehow manages to support him as he gets himself settled, peering down the length of his snout and ensnaring you in that ruby-red gaze once more.

Your fingers flex into the sheets around you, bunching them up and wrinkling the fine cotton.

'Now what's he doing?'

His eyes are glued to your cheek again, his intense stare broken by the occasional, languid blink.

You're not expecting it when he suddenly moves.

He only extends his neck a little to bring his head closer to you, but he's so massive, the motion it far more jarring from your perspective. With a shriek, you slam your eyes shut and instinctively throw up your hands, pressing them hard against the soft muzzle, as if they alone are enough to keep him from advancing on you any further. To your immense shock however, the moment your fingers meet the warm surface of his nose, Bowser falls still.

You risk prying open an eyelid to peep up at him.

Judging by the impossibly wide smile that now stretches across his face, he's apparently delighted by this new development.

This is the first time you've touched his face.

Your palm is almost lost to a vast expanse of yellow skin, sitting right on the ridge of his nose between his flaring nostrils.

The Koopa's own gaze is heavy-lidded, each pupil angled to keep you within his sights whilst a pleased hum travels through his throat and causes the bed to quake underneath you.

His fangs remain safely tucked behind his lips, and as the seconds tick by without your hand getting snapped off, the tension in your fingers gradually begins to dissipate.

With your heartbeat receding as well, you allow yourself to lightly stroke just the tips of your fingers down his snout until they pause on the cusp of his upper lip, drawing a reverent shudder from the almighty juggernaut.

Pressing your teeth together, you inhale slowly through your nose, and murmur, “...Bowser?”

It's as if you've just broken him from some kind of trance.

The King's face suddenly twists up and he emits a throaty groan, like he's in pain.

Quick as a flash, you tear your hand from his muzzle and press yourself back as far away as you can when he peels his chin from the bed and brings both of his gargantuan paws up to clutch at his head, staggering to his feet.

“Bowser!” you cry again, this time in alarm, “What's happening!?”

A disconcerting notion occurs to you - that he could be on the verge of going bezerk - and you hurriedly throw back the covers with a view to scramble off the bed and make a break for the doors. But as soon as you move, the Koopa's eyes spring open again and zero in on you, trapping you in a stare so full of frantic desperation that you stop at once, though more from confusion than fear.

And so, you're left to do nothing but watch as the jagged behemoth undergoes another, painful transformation.

The heavy shell on his back grows smaller, losing the serrated quality of its spikes. His tail shortens, his jutting fangs soften around their edges. The sweeping horns on his head recede back inside his rapidly shrinking skull until only their tips remain poking out from between his mess of a mane.

You almost choke on a gushing sigh of relief when at last, the King is back to his regular, brutish self, knelt on the ground at the foot of your bed - though it strikes you quite abruptly that you shouldn't be feeling reassured by Bowser's presence, no matter which form he takes.

Despite your misgivings, you still find yourself croaking out, “A-are you okay?”

Arduously, he braces a palm on the end of the bed and uses it to push himself up onto his feet again, eventually dragging his eyes over to you. He gives you a brief, searching glance, focusing for an uncomfortable minute on your face, then, without a word, the Koopa spins around and staggers purposefully towards the adjoining bathroom, disappearing through the door.

Plagued by uncertainty, you allow your fists to tentatively unclench around the bedsheets, lowering them into your lap as the squeak of a tap filters out from beyond the ensuite door, followed by the unmistakable rush of running water.

Another squeak... and a few moments later, the Koopa comes stomping back into the room, this time with a wet flannel clutched inside his meaty paw.

“You should've let me pulverise 'im,” he grumbles, stalking around the bed until he comes to the side you're sitting on.

Gobsmacked, you let your mouth fall open, close it, then open it once more to ask, “I... I beg your pardon?”

“That GUY!” he snaps, “You shouldn't'a stopped me. He deserved the worst!”

You blink stupidly, lifting your eyebrows in tandem until they sit high on your forehead. “I'm sorry.. Are we... not going to talk about what just happened to you!?”

“What's there to talk about?” he grunts, flicking his tail up onto the bed before sinking his hefty backside down after it, fidgeting with the sodden flannel between his claws, “You got hurt. I got mad.”

“You got mad!?” Scoffing at the absurd understatement, you continue, “Bowser - you turned into a gigantic, terrifying monster who looked like he was three seconds away from chewing me up and spitting me back out! All because somebody slapped me!?”

You expect an uproarious retort, which would definitely be in keeping with your usual repartee with him, so it comes as a shock when Bowser glares heatedly at you for a few moments, then merely turns his nose away from you, hiding his expression.

It's... notably uncharacteristic of the hot-tempered Koopa. So much so that it prompts you to tilt your head and call, “Bowser?”

You can't see his face beyond the shell that covers his back, but motion on the covers draws your gaze down to see his tail. Slowly, the appendage curls inwards, tucking itself up against his thigh. Dejected.

“You didn't deserve what he did...”

You look up at Bowser again, blinking owlishly to find his arm reaching back towards you, though the King keeps his face stubbornly pointed in the opposite direction. The little, white flannel is draped across his proffered palm.

Keeping a dubious eye on the Koopa, you hesitantly stretch your hand out to his, pinching the fabric between your thumb and forefinger and pausing for a second to marvel over how cold it is. Drawing it into your grasp, you waste no time in bringing it up to your face and gently pressing the cool material against your cheek, unable to keep back the tiny smile that grows on your face with that slight modicum of relief.

You recognise his gesture is meant to be a peace offering, and you are grateful for the flannel... But you're also still bitter.

“So,” you hum pensively, eyeing his robust arm as it drops down to rest on the bed beside him, “I didn't deserve that. But I do deserve to be locked up and held prisoner in your castle?”

“I keep you safe.” His head twitches in your direction with a cursory show of teeth that are hardly very frightening anymore, not now that you've seen what they can become, “I keep you fed and warm and happy. I'd never hurt you.”

“No. You keep me fed and warm, and that's it,” you tell him sharply, “I don't feel safe here. And I am far from happy.”

You're more than aware that you're antagonising him, but you think you're damn well within your rights to do so. It isn't enough that he keeps you locked up in this castle and forbids you your freedom, but now he expects you to act as if you're happy about it too?

Another, disgruntled noise leaves him as he lurches off the bed, landing on his feet with a thud.

"Where are you going?" you demand.

"I'm-!" Bowser heaves a sigh, running a clawed hand through his thick, fiery mane. “I'm goin' to get you a proper ice-pack...” Trailing off, the King tromps heavily across your room, making his agitation known with every, deliberate step until he reaches the door.

Your teeth tug at a piece of loose skin on your lower lip. “... Bowser.”

He pauses, his hulking frame suddenly looking so small and vulnerable in the gargantuan doorway, with one of his hands sitting poised upon the handle.

Even from the bed, you can see the flash of his crimson iris swivelling in your direction.

You try to regard him passively, but the ice in your gaze is starting to melt fraction by fraction, and you don't know whether he can see it or not. “... Thanks,” you call gently anyway, lifting your shoulder into a shrug, “For... you know, for scaring Falkner off.”

You watch his eyelid widen, as if he's surprised to hear a word of thanks, from you of all people.

There's even the minutest quiver in his lip as it tries to tug itself up into the ghost of a smile. But then, he gives his head a rough shake, and the smile is gone.

“Just protectin' what's mine,” he rumbles, pushing the door open and slipping through the gap. The door closes again a second later, and your ears catch the sound of a heavy key sliding into the lock and turning, sending the tumblers clunking home.

… What's his...

Right.

A hollow space expands between your ribs, the familiar hole that disappointment often leaves behind.

Drawing your knees up against your chest, you wrap an arm around yourself for comfort, keeping the flannel pressed to your cheek as you wait for him to return with that ice pack.

#mario #super mario bros movie #bowser #bowser x reader #physical abuse #giga bowser #g/t #giant bowser #protective bowser #possessive bowser #the physical abuse isn't done by Bowser btw #hurt/comfort #pining #unrequited crush

[meatexe]

want someone to hurt me out of love ;( pls see attached: “ur too dumb n cant do this by urself so i physically have to yank u around n forcefully control ur body to show u how to do it, i’m just trying to make u independent.” “u keep talking down on urself n the only way ur going to learn to be grateful n appreciative is if i hit u until ur sobbing n telling me how special u r.” “ur a depressed piece of shit n if i have to drag u out of bed by ur hair n force u into the shower n scrub u raw to get u to be a person, so be it.” etc etc etc

#my love language is physical touch n if someone touch me really hard tht mean they love me more right. right #the harder the touch the more the love #i think crying from being hurt n then being comforted by them would actually fix me #meat.exe

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

🎵 Whoooo wants a nice little short 'n sweet post-Prime one shot with Sonic and Tails and some angst and also fluff and cuddles and nightmares and sadness and cuteness and the implementing of that one headcanon from the post I made about Sonic getting more cuddly and clingy when he's hurt or upset??? 🎵

Sonic Prime - Healing Hugs

Something had happened in the cave with Sonic. Tails was absolutely certain of it.

At first, it had just been pleasant changes, pleasant surprises. Sonic had suddenly switched to being a 100% team player, had started paying attention to each and every thing Tails instructed, and seemingly communicated with Shadow just as the Ultimate Lifeform arrived out of nowhere to Chaos Control the Paradox Prism to who-knows-where.

Then there had been the more weird changes.

Every time Tails opened his mouth, Sonic would drop everything to listen to every word with laser focus, even if it was about something as simple as what he was going to get for dinner or some cool comics he'd read. He was giving a lot more hugs, too, far more than usual. Sonic used to be a lot more selective about physical affection, but now, Tails couldn't seem to get through 30 minutes of a day without his older brother scooping him up in an embrace, however brief. Not that he was complaining, it was nice.

He kept catching the hedgehog lying around in the grass, fingering the green leaves with utter delight in his eyes. Once he found him on the beach, sitting in a palm tree and singing some kind of pirate-y sounding song. Another time he found him wandering slowly around the woods nearby, talking to the flickies about how pretty the trees were.

Something was off, but Tails couldn't put his finger on it. From his perspective, he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary happen during the battle in the cave, but Sonic's change in behavior made it painfully obvious something had.

Especially when the more negative changes started manifesting.

Not negative in a sense that Sonic was doing anything wrong. But he seemed . . . a little rattled. Some of his hugs were far more than just quick side squeezes. Sometimes he'd stare at Tails with an oddly pensive, faraway look in his eyes.

In bed, one night about a week after the cave incident, Tails found himself tossing and turning. These thoughts were driving him up the wall with how often they'd been occupying his mind lately.

He wanted so badly to sit down with Sonic and ask him what happened. He knew something had happened. But whether Sonic was willing to talk about it was another question entirely. He knew something was different, but he also knew his brother. Sonic didn't like uncomfortable conversations. If he felt unsafe, he would run.

Tails knew better than to confront him with questions that Sonic would likely not want to answer. If he'd wanted to tell Tails what was going on, what was different, he probably would've told him already.

With an exhausted sigh, Tails gave up trying to sleep and sat up in bed, casting a quick glance at the digital clock on his nightstand.

3:47 a.m.

Great. Even when I'm not working on a project, I STILL end up sleep-deprived. He smirked. At least Sonic can't get ticked at me this time, it's not my fault.

Speaking of the Blue Devil, he was right down the hall. Conked out on the couch, where he often slept. In fact, he'd been sleeping there every night for the past week.

Since he couldn't sleep, anyway, Tails slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, having memorized which boards creaked and which ones didn't. He half-hoped Sonic was awake so he'd have someone to talk to, but as he emerged into the living room, he saw his brother sound asleep, half-curled on his side.

Tails blinked and looked closer.

Sonic was asleep, but . . . he was also clinging extra tightly to his pillow. And he looked . . . incredibly stressed.

Was he having a bad dream?

Tails took a couple steps towards the couch until he stood right beside it. In past experiences where he'd found his brother having a nightmare, talking it out rarely helped. Sometimes even waking him up didn't help, either. He usually just wound up disoriented and panicking, and sometimes even ran off to deal with his feelings alone out in the wilderness.

Tails really didn't want him to leave. He also didn't want him to be alone.

He reached out and ever so gently placed his hand over Sonic's clenched fist, both ungloved.

One thing he had discovered about his brother during hard times like this was that he became more clingy. On the rare occasion he was visibly upset, he'd sometimes come up and just hug Tails without a word. When he was sick or injured somehow (and actually allowing himself to be taken care of), he tended to snuggle more. If he was in enough pain, he'd hold onto Tails as tightly as he could. Sometimes he'd do the same with their other friends, but Tails was always his go-to.

Not that it happened very often. Tails only knew these things because he'd known Sonic for most of his life. Sonic had raised him. He'd seen more of Sonic than anyone else had.

Now, he rubbed a finger over his brother's fist for a moment, then very carefully tugged the pillow out of Sonic's unconscious grasp. He set it softly on the floor, then carefully clambered onto the couch next to him, lay down, and hugged him tightly.

Without waking up, Sonic wrapped his arms around him in return and held him close, burying his face between Tails's ears with a barely audible whimper.

Tails could feel his brother's heartbeat racing, so he snuggled in closer and softly began to purr.

And, with time, he felt Sonic start to calm down.

A couple minutes went by, and his heart rate slowed down just a bit. The tension coiled throughout his entire body started to unwind, and his spiked-up quills lowered slightly in a more relaxed position. His ears were still kinda droopy, but he seemed a lot more restful than he had a few minutes ago.

Tails smiled, still bundled up tightly against Sonic. And his smile only grew wider when he felt his brother start purring, too.

There was something infinitely comforting about being held, about snuggling with his brother, the person who loved him to the moon and back. The person he loved in exactly the same way. For those moments, the very problems that had been keeping Tails awake half an hour earlier seemed to fade. He was here, Sonic was here, no words were spoken or needed, and they would be okay.

Tails slept soundly for the rest of the night.

-

The sound of flickies singing from the treetops woke Sonic the next day. He blinked blearily as his eyes came into focus, and he realized that Tails had joined him sometime during the night.

Once upon a time, waking up to find him right there had made him jump. It didn't anymore.

He smiled, carefully adjusting one hand so he could stroke his little brother's bangs and give him a tiny scratch behind one ear. Tails mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and snuggled closer in Sonic's chest.

He grinned wider. Tails hadn't been snuggly to this level in a while. Granted, he'd always been the more snuggly one of the two of them, but still. It kind of reminded Sonic of the first couple years he'd been taking care of Tails, when the kit was between 3 and 4 years old.

His smile faded a little as he thought of Nine at that age, still alone, still being bullied and hurt, with no one to save him and show him the love and care he deserved.

He could only hope that the other Shatterverse variants were showing him such kindness now. The thought that he would never get to see him again made his heart ache in a way he couldn't quell.

Sonic studied Tails's sleeping face, noting the intense similarities and differences between him and Nine. He wondered whether Nine had always existed even before the Shatter event, as a part of his little brother that Tails would never bring to light. Was it the same with Mangey and Sails?

A tiny snort escaped him against his will as he thought about whether Mangey's existence was an implication that a part of Tails just wanted to go a little feral. Sometimes he couldn't blame him.

His suppressed laugh had Tails stirring, blinking open his big blue eyes. He looked back at Sonic, grinning sleepily. "G'morning."

Sonic ruffled his bangs again, smiling as Tails giggled. "G'morning, little buddy."

Stop calling me that!

He froze at the memory of Nine's angry shout, and Tails clearly saw it.

"Are you okay?" he asked with a gentle, inquiring frown, slowly sitting up.

Sonic sighed as he sat up as well, leaning back to stretch, then pulled his little brother close again. "I've got a story for you, bud," he admitted, deciding it was about time to open up about what had really happened in the cave.

Tails gazed up at him with surprise, but then smiled and nodded.

"I'm listening," he replied quietly.

AO3 version

Did I come up with this while hugging a giant pillow during my nap earlier today? Maybe :3

I also maybe just really wanted to implement that headcanon somewhere teehee

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #miles tails prower #sonic prime #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #they're brothers your honor #sonic prime spoilers #nightmares #fic #my fic #my writing #sonic prime fanfic #one shot #hurt/comfort #they need all the hugs #they definitely needed this after all that and no one can convince me otherwise #especially sonic #boy was so clingy for most of the show 🥹 #he needed more hugs himself #i would've given them to him myself but y'know #darn my physicality #ao3 link #ao3 fic #healing hugs #nine the fox #sorta - he's mentioned #i know it ends kinda inconclusive like but y'all already know what he's gonna tell him about so #minor angst

[spinzolliii]

God, I love sickfics that cut between a Whumpee’s current illness, and illnesses they’ve had in the past. Before, being sick was traumatic and lonely. Maybe they were neglected or even ostracized for their illness. In the present day, they don’t know how to handle being loved.

#cold whump #fever whump #physical whump #sick whump #whump #whump prompt #whump tropes #whumpblr #whumpee #illness whump #tw trauma #tw neglect #sickfic #sick #sickness #fanfic #caretaker #caretaking #hurt/comfort #angst #angst and hurt/comfort #angst and fluff

[squintingcats]

Caretaker praising Whumpee to help them feel less guilty/insecure about receiving care. Like saying “good job” or “I’m so proud of you” when a Whumpee drinks water, takes medicine, eats a bite of food, or does breathing exercises during a panic attack.

The Whumpee was punished their whole life for showing weakness and accepting help. Now, they have to be rewarded for doing just that.

#whumpblr #whump #sick whump #fever whump #whump community #fever #whump aesthetics #cold whump #whump stuff #whumpee #caretaker #caretaking #reassurance #emotional whump #physical whump #comfort #hurt/comfort #sickfic prompts #sickfic #sickfic whump

[galaxicnerd]

fears of inadequacy

#dirk strider #jake english #dirkjake #angst #hurt but not quite sure about the comfort #im just saying that as much as these two work on themselves they do not know how to handle intense emotions #its not a bad thing its just something they deal with #growing up completely alone with no one to physically comfort you would kinda emotionally stunt anyone you know #UGH damn it theyre so important to me #they both struggle with self worth like crazy #i love them being disasters together #i want to see them grow but more importantly i want to see them suffer