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water-you-doing-bro · 2 years

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Shattered Glass (Shredded Hands)

AO3 | FF.Net

The Seven, along with some of their closest friends, were gathered for their monthly ‘party’ (which is what they called the scheduled get-together they all used as an excuse to get out of responsibilities) in Percy’s apartment. They had broken off into smaller groups a little bit ago, and Percy was currently laying on the couch with his head in Annabeth’s lap, listening to her chat with Piper and Jason.

He was only vaguely paying attention, instead mostly letting his mind wander as he basked in the knowledge that all his loved ones were safe and under one roof. He hummed when Annabeth carded her fingers through his hair and smiled at her answering chuckle.

“You look like a blissed-out cat, Seaweed Brain,” she said, and Percy cracked open an eye just long enough to take in the fact that she was smiling fondly down at him.

“Well can you blame me?” He muttered, nuzzling into her stomach. “I’ve got everyone I love safely corralled under one roof and they’re all happy. What more could I want?”

Annabeth laughed and Piper playfully smacked at his shoulder.

“Corralled?” She teased. Percy opened his eyes and craned his head back to grin at her.

“Yep. You lot definitely require corralling.”

Now all four of them were laughing, and some of the others wandered closer to see what was going on.

“If anyone is doing the corralling here, I think it’s me!” Sally chimed in as she emerged from the kitchen with a plate of fresh blue chocolate chip cookies. Everyone scrambled to find someplace to sit around the couch and coffee table so they could be within reach of the cookies. Sally laughed and set the plate down in the middle of the table and disappeared back into the kitchen with a call of “no fighting!”

Percy had sat up and pulled Annabeth into his lap, freeing up more space on the couch. Leo threw himself across Piper and Jason’s laps, and Thalia squeezed herself into the space between Percy and Jason. Will sat in the armchair to the left of the couch with Nico perched on the arm next to him, while Reyna took the armchair on the other side. Grover settled onto the floor by Percy and Annabeth’s feet, and Hazel sat beside Frank on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

Paul came into the living room with Estelle giggling on his shoulders.

“Hey, kids!” He grinned when he saw them all gathered together munching on cookies.

“Puh-see! Puh-see!” Estelle squealed when she saw her big brother and made grabby hands at him, nearly throwing herself from Paul’s shoulders. Percy smiled and held his arms out so Paul could pass her to him as Annabeth slid from his lap to sit on the floor next to Grover.

“Well, hello there, Guppy!” Percy said, immediately settling Estelle in his lap and tickling her. She giggled and squirmed

“N-no!” She squealed through her giggles. “A-A-Annie! H-help m-me-he-he!”

Annabeth smirked. “Oh, you want me to help you?” She reached up and dug her fingers into Estelle’s sides, joining Percy in his tickle attack.

Everyone else watched on with wide smiles as their friends laughed and smiled in a way that neither of them had done often since Tartarus.

Eventually, they ceased their attack and Percy passed Estelle a cookie to munch on through her giggles. Everyone sat chatting, munching on cookies and enjoying themselves.

And of course, once everyone is finally relaxed, that’s when things go wrong.

~ ~ ~

Percy smiled, watching his family with a warmth settled in his stomach. He stretched his arms above his head and felt his joints crack and pop, releasing the building tension. He looked at where Estelle was animatedly telling Annabeth a story as she passed cookies around and stood up, thinking he’d take a quick trip to the kitchen to get a drink and stretch his legs.

He gave Annabeth a grin and nodded toward the kitchen when she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. She nodded and gave him a quick smile back. He skirted the edge of the coffee table and picked his way between his friends’ legs.

Percy slipped into the kitchen and smiled. “Hey, mom, hi Paul,” he said, pulling a glass down from the cupboard.

“Hi, Percy,” his mom smiled softly back at him. “Are you having a good time?”

Percy grabbed the bottle of blue coke from the counter and filled his cup. “Definitely,” he smiled, “It’s been too long since we could all just get together and relax.”

Sally pulled him down gently for a hug and ruffled his hair when they parted.

“Hey!” Percy cried, playfully indignant, as he shook his head to try and get his hair to settle back in place. Sally just smiled at him and shooed him back into the living room. Percy laughed and backed out of the kitchen, sticking his tongue out at her.

He spun around, a joke on his lips for his friends, but he had misjudged the distance he had gone and tripped over Hazel’s foot. He dropped his glass and tried to catch himself as he went down.

The glass shattered against the wooden floor and the blue coke splattered everywhere. Percy’s head cracked against the edge of the coffee table as his hands slammed down among the broken glass.

He tried to blink away the throbbing in his head and sat up on his knees, a buzzing in his ears that blocked out all sound. He stared at his bloodied hands, then the broken glass and soda scattered across the floor, and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, knowing Gabe would just be even angrier if he got loud. “I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up, right now, it won’t happen again, I promise, I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful—”

He continued to mumble apologies and promises to do better as he scrambled for the pieces of glass, gathering them all into one palm and stretching out his shirt to try and mop up the beer. He was numb to the burn of the glass shards slicing up his fingers and cutting into his palms. He felt Gabe’s meaty hand clamp down on his shoulder and he flinched back, curling down over his knees and clutching the glass in his fist to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow to fall, trying to prepare himself for the sting of the belt across his back or the burn of a kick to his ribs. He held his breath, waiting for it to be knocked out of him.

But it never came. He uncurled slowly, cautiously, and lifted his head, expecting Gabe to be standing over him, waiting with a balled fist and fury in his eyes.

Instead, he was met with the sight of Annabeth standing in front of him, her hand clutched to her chest like it had been burned and concern in her eyes. He glanced to the sides and saw his friends all watching him with shocked and worried expressions.

“Percy?” Annabeth’s voice was soft and gentle, she reached for him slowly, hesitantly, like she was afraid he might lash out.

Percy scrambled to his feet and spun around on his heel, pausing only a moment to process the tears gathered in his mom’s eyes, her hand over her mouth, as she stood in the kitchen doorway, then dashed toward his room to hide.

~ ~ ~

Annabeth stared at where Percy had disappeared down the hall, her heart cracking in her chest.

When Percy had tripped and his head had slammed into the coffee table, she had cried out his name, and Sally had come running from the kitchen. Thalia had lunged forward and grabbed Estelle before she could run through the glass to her big brother and Annabeth silently thanked her.

Percy had sat up slowly, dazed, and just stared at his hands for a moment. Annabeth tried to get his attention, but he didn’t seem to hear her. A panicked look spread across his face and he immediately started muttering and reaching out to pick up the shards of glass.

“Percy, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Annabeth said, crouching down and trying again to get his attention.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” Percy muttered, “it won’t happen again, I’ll be more careful, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Percy, it’s okay,” Annabeth reached out to place her hand on her partner’s shoulder, only to recoil and pull it back like she’d been burned when Percy flinched violently, curling in on himself and tensing up, like he was expecting something bad to happen.

Sally gasped and brought her hand to her mouth as tears gathered in her eyes.

No one dared to move or make a noise.

After what felt like an eternity, Percy slowly uncurled.

The naked fear in his eyes and written across his face was Annabeth’s undoing.

“Percy?” She kept her voice low and reached for him slowly, desperately trying not to frighten him again.

But then he was on his feet and had disappeared down the hall in a flash.

“Sally, what—” Annabeth said, the first one to break the silence.

“Puh-see!” Estelle cried from where Thalia still held her tightly. “Puh-see!” She thrashed around and screeched for her brother.

Sally broke from her stupor and rushed around the back of the couch to pull her daughter from Thalia’s arms, shushing her and trying to comfort her. Paul ushered everyone else into the kitchen so he could clean up what was left of the glass and spilled soda. Annabeth wrapped her arms around herself and tried to ignore the pit that had opened up in her stomach. She tried to distract herself by trying to gauge how the others were feeling.

They all mostly looked confused, but Thalia had a look of knowing devastation in her eyes, and Leo had a suspicious glint in his own. Nico looked startled, like he’d just realized something terrible, and Piper appeared shaken, her hands shook and her breath stuttered.

“Annabeth,” Thalia said, her face steeled with determination, “do you know what that was?”

Annabeth shook her head. “No, but—” she let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes against the gathering tears. “But I think I have an idea.”

~ ~ ~

Piper took deep breaths, trying to still her shaking hands and recover from the-the utter terror she had felt back there. She’d always been empathetic, and since learning she was a daughter of Aphrodite, had realized that it must be one of her powers, being able to reach out and feel the emotions of others.

But she had never felt anything as strongly as what she had just experienced from Percy. The fear that radiated from him had been near palpable in the air, it felt like a suffocating weight had settled around her, making her lungs seize and a yawning pit appear in the bottom of her stomach. The sense of desperation and defeated expectation ate at her insides, and she flinched back when Jason rested his hand on her arm.

She shuddered just remembering it, tucking herself into Jason’s side and grabbing Leo’s hand to squeeze. Jason held her close with his arm wrapped around her shoulders and Leo tightened his own grip on her hand comfortingly.

“Annabeth,” Thalia broke the silence, “Do you know what that was?”

“No,” Annabeth shook her head, “but—” she let out a shuddering breath and appeared to steel herself, closing her eyes. “But I think I have an idea.”

She glanced over at Grover, and he stepped closer to sling his arm over her shoulders in support. “Percy, he-he had another step-father, before Paul.”

Piper’s eyes widened.

“He doesn’t talk about him much, never did, really. Called him ‘Smelly Gabe.’ They didn’t seem to like each other at all, and Percy hasn’t mentioned him at all since his first summer, and our first quest.” Annabeth shrugged. “I don’t know what happened to him, but I do know that after he disappeared Percy seemed... lighter, almost, happier.”

Grover nodded, and opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but someone else beat him to it.

“Gabe was not a nice man.” Sally stood in the doorway, Estelle on her hip and Paul standing at her shoulder. She passed their daughter to him and he disappeared back into the living room. Sally sighed and walked further into the kitchen to lean against the counter.

Piper could sense a deep regret, a feeling of guilt, coming from Sally and immediately wished to comfort her, but she stayed where she was.

“It’s true, that he and Percy didn’t like each other. I didn’t like him much, either. I married him to try and protect Percy. His scent was so disgustingly human, it covered Percy’s and made it harder for monsters to detect him.” Sally closed her eyes. “He was an alcoholic. And he was abusive.”

A sharp intake of breath echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen, and Thalia swore softly.

“I didn’t know he hurt Percy, too, until after. Percy, he’s too protective, too self-sacrificing for his own good sometimes, you know? He’d noticed that Gabe wasn’t... the best with me, and apparently, he’d tried to make a deal with him.” Sally gave a humorless chuckle. “He’d told Gabe that he could do whatever he wanted to him, and he wouldn’t fight back, so long as he didn’t hurt me anymore.” She sniffled. “I married him to try and protect Percy, and I just ended up hurting him.” She shook her head with another self-deprecating laugh. “So, when Percy came home from his first quest and handed me a box with Medusa’s head in it, well.” She shrugged, and the smile that spread across her face didn’t reach her eyes. “I created a very good sculpture, called it ‘The Poker Player’ and sold it to a Gallery for a good bit of money, enough to get us a new apartment. He still won’t tell me what all Gabe did to him, what he let that man get away with just to try and protect me, but I do know that it still haunts him.”

Piper barely stifled a sob, covering her mouth with her hands. Hazel was crying silently, Annabeth was clinging to Grover, Leo was shaking, and Thalia looked downright murderous.

“I’m glad you two have Paul, now,” Jason said, reaching out to place a hand on Sally’s arm. “And I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But Percy is the strongest person I know, and knowing this only increases the respect I have for you both.”

Sally smiled. “Thank you, Jason. I am very lucky to have Paul, and I’m so thankful that Percy has such supportive friends, he thinks the world of you.”

“He thinks the world of you too, Sally,” Piper said. Her heart broke for her friend. Jason was right, Percy was the strongest person she knew. She had always known Percy to be brave and strong, kind and genuine. He’d always seemed like an open book, wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so full of life; Percy was the kind of guy that could be counted on to always be ready with a kind word and a comforting arm. He was a soft smile and a steady hand, calm power echoed throughout every move he made. He was a broad back that stood protectively in the way of anything that wished to hurt you and calloused palms pulling you up when you were at your lowest. He was shitty jokes cracked to ease the tension and crooked smiles that lit up the room. He was terrifying and overwhelmingly powerful but at the same time he was unbelievably gentle and had a knack for putting you at ease just because he was there.

Piper was left reeling, knowing that someone so strong and kind, so gentle and fun-loving, had remained so when he had grown up being abused and surrounded by hate. She only hoped Percy would be willing to let them protect him in turn.

~ ~ ~

Percy pushed his back against his door and buried his head in his knees, trying to calm his breathing. His hands burned.

He couldn’t believe he’d just lost it like that in front of his friends. He hadn’t let Gabe get to him in years, had hardly thought about him since Hera’s Memory Wipe.

He pulled his head from his knees and held his hands out in front of him. He stared blankly at his bloody fingers, at the glass shards buried in his palms.

They shook.

Gods, why did this have to happen today?

Percy clenched his fists and tried to let the sharp sting of the glass as it dug further beneath his skin pull him out of his head.

He blinked and he was no longer in his bedroom, but instead surrounded by black shards of broken glass and poisonous air.

~ ~ ~

Sally smiled at all of Percy’s friends, kids who had seen and gone through far more than any child should have to. She hated seeing the haunted shadows that lingered in their eyes, the heavy weight they carried making their shoulders sag. She savored every little moment of peace she could give to them, every relaxed smile and carefree laugh she was able to coax from them, and she cursed at the gods and the Fates for what they had put these children through.

She excused herself from the kitchen with a soft smile at Annabeth, letting the girl know that she was going to check on Percy. Before she could leave, however, Annabeth approached her.

“Sally,” she said, keeping her voice hushed, “Let me come, too. I don’t know if you saw it, but he—” she paused, biting her lip. “He was picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, Sally.” Annabeth’s eyes held a haunted shine, tears threatening to fall. “When we were—when we were Down There, it was like the ground was made of glass. We got all kinds of cut up and we didn’t have the time or the tools to dig out every little piece that was embedded in our skin until after we had made it back up to the Argo II, and even then, we needed help from the others.” She looked away and seemed to gather herself for a moment. “I don’t want him to have another flashback so soon after that last one, especially not when I could help him through this one. I just want to help him.”

The desperation in Annabeth’s voice and the pleading in her eyes tore at Sally’s heart and she gave the girl a soft smile. “Of course you can come with me, Annabeth.” She pulled her pseudo-daughter into a tight, warm hug. “Percy probably needs both of us right now.”

When they pulled apart, Annabeth gave her a watery smile. “Thank you, Sally.”

They left the kitchen with Sally’s arm around Annabeth’s shoulders.

In the living room, Paul had managed to calm Estelle down by distracting her with her favorite cartoon. Sally motioned for Annabeth to keep going and approached her husband quietly. She bent over the back of the couch and he tilted his head back to look at her.

“Thank you for calming her down and distracting her,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Paul just smiled. “Of course, honey,” he nuzzled his nose into her cheek. “Go help our boy, okay?”

Sally hummed and gave him another quick kiss before walking toward her son’s room.

She met Annabeth where the girl was standing in front of Percy’s door and gave her an encouraging smile. She tapped her knuckles against the door gently, placing her other hand on Annabeth’s back to keep them both steady.

“Percy? It’s mom and Annabeth, sweetheart,” she called softly through the door. “May we come in?”

She waited a moment, but no response came. She glanced at Annabeth, whose brow was furrowed in concern, and bit her lip. “Why don’t you try, dear?” She muttered and Annabeth nodded.

“Percy? Please, Seaweed Brain, let us help you,” she pleaded, resting her forehead and palm against the door.

They heard a shuffling from inside the room, followed by a soft thud.

“Percy?” Annabeth reached out and slowly turned the doorknob. She carefully inched the door open and peaked inside. Whatever she saw made her gasp, and she threw it open, rushing inside.

Sally gasped at the sight that greeted her through the flung open door and froze there for a moment, taking in the sight.

Percy sat pressed against the wall next to his window, his knees pulled up to his chest as he scratched frantically at one of his arms, leaving bloody gashes in his wake. His other hand was clenched in a tight fist, blood slipping between his fingers and dripping onto the floor. His eyes were closed as tears streaked his cheeks. His mouth hung open in a silent wail and he slammed his head repeatedly against the wall.

Annabeth fell to her knees at Percy’s side and threw a pillow she had snatched from his bed between Percy’s head and the wall, trying to soften the blow and stop him from hurting himself any further.

Sally stared in abject terror for a moment and then rushed forward to join Annabeth and grabbed her son’s wrists to stop his scratching.

“Percy!” She cried, “Please, darling, you have to stop! You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

Percy only let out a low moan in response, struggling against her hold and continuing to try to bash his head into the wall. He whined and squirmed.

“Please, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth pleaded, “open your eyes for me.”

Percy whined again, but opened his eyes, staring up at them blearily, gaze unfocused. His eyes flickered from side to side before settling on Annabeth with an intensity Sally hadn’t seen from him before.

What was he seeing?

~ ~ ~

“Annabeth,” Percy croaked, voice rough like he had gargled nails. He tugged feebly against Sally’s hold. “Wise Girl, you have to run,” his voice was desperate, his gaze frantic. “You have to make it to the Doors, Annabeth. Our friends are counting on you to close them and they can’t lose both of us.”

Annabeth choked on a sob.

“Percy, we’re not down there anymore, I promise,” she said, tears cold against her cheeks. “We’re at your apartment, Sally, your mom, is holding your wrists because you were hurting yourself.”

Percy blinked, but didn’t take his eyes off Annabeth’s face.

“Percy, look. It’s just your mom, not some monster, okay? Please, Seaweed Brain,” she cupped his cheek and wiped a few tears away with her thumb. She stared into his eyes, imploring him to believe her. “Percy, you trust me, yes?”

Percy nodded slowly.

“Then look.”

Percy let out a shaky breath and looked over at Sally. She smiled softly at her son. He blinked a few times, and Annabeth watched his eyes clear and widen. He stilled.

“Hey,” she muttered, smiling when he turned to stare at her again. “There you are, baby.”

Percy gave her a faint smile and pressed their foreheads together.

“Beth,” he breathed her name like a prayer. “Mom,” he turned to look at Sally with wide eyes that quickly welled with tears. “I-I’m sorry,” he sobbed, voice catching in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

He unclenched his fists and Sally slowly released his wrists. His arms dropped to his sides. He slowly leaned his head back against the wall. He squeezed his eyes shut.

He cried.

~ ~ ~

Annabeth sat with Percy as he cried, laying her hand on his arm in silent support. Sally had quietly left a room a few minutes ago with a quiet promise to be right back.

When she returned, she held a bowl of water, a towel, and a pair of tweezers.

“Percy,” she said gently, and he cracked his eyes open to watch her as she placed the items down and settled onto the floor in front of him. “We need to pull the glass out of your hands, honey. Can you give me one of them?”

Percy held out a shaking hand and Sally took it gently, cradling it in one of her own. She carefully began pulling out the shards of glass, apologizing every time he winced.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” she muttered, “We’re almost done and then we can take a break before moving on to the other hand, okay?”

Percy let out a heavy breath and nodded carefully.

It broke Annabeth’s heart to see her boyfriend like this, it hurt her to see him in pain. She wished with all her heart that she could take all his pain away. She ran her hand comfortingly up and down his arm, occasionally playing with his hair, and murmured reassurances and calming words in his ear.

Blood dripped onto the carpet and soaked through the towel where Sally deposited the shards. Annabeth bit her lip at the state of Percy’s shredded fingers. It looked like someone had taken his hands and tried to force them through a blender. Thankfully, however, it looked like none of the pieces were too small or stubborn, and Sally was efficient in pulling them out. At one point, she pulled another towel Annabeth hadn’t noticed before from her back pocket and tried to mop up some of the blood on Percy’s hand so she could see it better.

Sometimes, Annabeth cursed the fact that water instantly healed most of Percy’s wounds, because it meant that they couldn’t risk rinsing the blood off or getting the towel wet to try and clean it off because then he could heal with glass still stuck beneath his skin and they would have to cut him open to dig it out.

Eventually, Sally finished with his first hand and set it gently on his knee. Percy offered out his other hand before she asked, and Sally took it just as carefully as she had the first, and resumed her ministrations. Annabeth continued to watch, unable to do anything but try to provide her boyfriend comfort.

Percy stubbornly remained silent through the whole ordeal, and Annabeth knew it was because he didn’t want to scare or hurt his mother by letting her know just how much it hurt. It was one of the things that she both loved and hated about him. Percy would rather suffer in silence than burden anyone else with his pain; it made him appear strong and invincible on the field of battle, encouraging and rallying his comrades when he continued fighting through pain, exhaustion, and, sometimes, even debilitating injuries that would have immediately sent anyone else to their knees. But he seemed to think that he always needed to appear strong and invincible and refused to let his walls down around anyone, even Annabeth knew he didn’t let them down fully around her, though he did let her see more than practically anyone else.

Annabeth was the only one who had ever seen Percy cry.

He bottled up all his pain and stress and fear and locked it away in a far corner of his mind to deal with later, alone. But he never dealt with it until it grew too much to ignore and everything exploded out of him in a colossal breakdown. He was able to keep things in for a horrifyingly long time, though. In the almost eight years that she had known him, she could count the number of times he had broken down on one hand with fingers to spare.

This one had been a long time coming.

After Tartarus, they both had awful nightmares, alleviated only by each other’s presence. Sometimes, Percy would tell her about what he had seen, but more often than not he only buried his face in her stomach, crying silently, and let her run her hands through his hair until he had managed to fall asleep again. In the morning, he would pretend that nothing had happened, and refused to let their other friends see that anything was bothering him, even though it was a futile endeavor since he could not hide the bags that grew beneath his eyes or the gauntness of his features, nor the haunted shadow that settled across his face when he thought no one was looking.

Now, he had been doing a little better, more willing to talk about his nightmares with her and actually express and find an outlet for his pain or anger instead of just hiding it all away.

Now, as much as it hurt her to see him in so much pain, Annabeth almost wished that he would allow himself to cry out as his mother plucked broken bits of glass out of his flesh.

~ ~ ~

Percy wasn’t sure how long they sat there, him, his mom, and Annabeth. He tried to ignore the feeling of jagged shards of glass being gently pulled from his hands and instead focus on Annabeth’s voice and her presence beside him, solid and reassuring in the way he could always depend on her to be.

She was his anchor, she kept him sane and grounded in reality. She kept him human.

Without Annabeth or his mom, Percy feared that he would turn into a monster worse than anything he had ever turned to dust.

~ ~ ~

Sally let out a sigh of relief when the last shard of glass clinked onto the worryingly large pile on the towel and she leaned back, dropping the tweezers and taking a moment to just breathe and look at her son.

Percy’s hands and arm were still bleeding, tear tracks dried on his cheeks. His eyes were closed and his head was leaned back against the wall, tilted towards Annabeth. (Sally smiled slightly, finding it adorable that he was so drawn to Annabeth’s voice, her mere presence.) He looked exhausted and worn, and when he opened his eyes, there was an age in them that went far beyond his years. He gave her a tired smile.

“Thanks, mom,” he croaked.

“Here, Percy,” she said, holding out the bowl of water. “Let’s get those cuts all healed up.”

The hand he reached out to dip into the water still shook and he winced as he flexed his fingers.

Slowly, a look of blissful relief spread over his face and his shoulders sagged. Once he pulled his hand from the bowl, Sally put it to the side and clasped one of his hands in her own.

“I love you, Percy,” she said, ignoring the tears that threatened the corners of her vision. “Okay? I need you to always remember that.”

Percy looked startled for a moment. “Of course I know that, mom. I love you, too.” He leaned forward and pulled her into a tight hug and gods when had he gotten so big that she stopped being able to cradle him in her arms and protect him? Now, Percy was the one with his arms wrapped protectively around her, her head tucked beneath his chin.

She pulled back and sniffled, giving her baby boy a watery smile before wiping her eyes and hauling herself to her feet with a groan as her knees creaked in protest.

“Why don’t you go take a shower to get that blood cleaned off and get some of your strength back?” She said, and Percy nodded, glancing at Annabeth.

Sally smiled softly at the two of them and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

She would let them have their moment alone and go let their friends know that Percy was okay.

~ ~ ~

After Sally left, Percy turned to look at her with teary eyes and Annabeth opened her arms without hesitation.

Percy threw himself into them and collapsed against her. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and finally let the sobs he’d been holding in for his mother wrack his body. He shook, quivering in her arms through the remembered terror. She held him tightly and pressed her lips to his mop of messy hair.

She sat there and cradled him, rocking gently, until he regained control enough to pull away and wipe his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey,” she chided him gently and reached out to tilt his chin up with her knuckle, making him look at her, “What have we talked about, hm? You don’t have to apologize for seeking comfort and letting yourself hurt.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, putting all her warmth and love behind it, trying to tell him with one brush of their lips just how much she loved him, how proud of him she was. When they parted, she cupped his cheek and smiled when he nuzzled into the touch.

“I love you, Wies Girl,” he whispered into the space between them, saying the words reverently, as if he was sharing a secret with her.

“I love you, too, Seaweed Brain,” she echoed him, and kissed him once more before standing and pulling him up with her. “Go shower,” she herded him out the door and toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right here when you’re done and then we can hide out in your room the rest of the day watching movies and cuddling, or we can rejoin the party, okay?”

Percy nodded and gave her a thankful smile before disappearing into the bathroom.

Annabeth waited until she heard the water running to head toward the living room.

She peaked around the corner and smiled as she saw their friends gathered once more around the coffee table. Hazel and Frank were entertaining Estelle while Thalia talked with Sally. Paul must have been in the kitchen since she didn’t see him anywhere in the living room, but everyone else was accounted for. Leo had joined Thalia and Sally’s hushed conversation; Piper and Jason were cuddled on the couch talking quietly to each other. Reyna was standing off to the side talking with Nico and Will. Grover was standing nervously in a corner, munching on a paper plate as his eyes flickered around the room.

Naturally, he was the first one to notice her when she stepped around the corner.

“Annabeth!” He called, trotting over to her. “Where’s Perce?” He worried at his lip.

Annabeth smiled and shook her head. “He’s taking a shower,” she said and Grover chuckled.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said, then glanced nervously down the hallway. “How’s he doing?”

Annabeth noticed that the rest of the room had gone quiet, looking at them. “He’s okay, but we might spend the rest of the day in his room. He’s usually super drained after a flashback, and he just had two in the span of half an hour.” She shook her head and looked over her shoulder to make sure Percy was still in the bathroom. “The shower will help, but I don’t know if he’ll be up to facing what happened with anyone else, yet.”

Grover nodded and Nico walked up to stand beside him.

“If either of you want anything, just let me know, okay? I’ll get it for you.” He gave her one of his rare smiles.

“Thanks, Nico,” she smiled back and ruffled his hair.

“We’ll all be here if he needs anything,” Reyna said, walking over and putting her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder.

“Kelp Head can come to me if he ever wants to exchange shitty childhood stories,” Thalia said with a smirk, throwing her arm around Annabeth’s shoulders. “We can bond over having trauma because of alcoholics.”

Annabeth snorted and rolled her eyes at her best friend’s antics. “I’ll let him know,” she said dryly, but smiled to let her know that she would, in fact, let Percy know.

“Now,” she said, looking back over her shoulder as she heard the shower shut off, “I gotta get back to him.” She stepped back down the hall and listened to the rest of her friends go back to their conversations and relaxing.

~ ~ ~

When Percy opened the bathroom door, Annabeth was waiting for him with his favorite pair of sweatpants and one of his comfiest sweaters bundled in her arms.

“Thought you might want these,” she smirked and Percy kissed her before accepting the bundle and disappearing back into the bathroom to throw them on. He felt refreshed, if still a little tired, and calm when he reemerged with his old clothes slung over his arm.

“Thanks, Beth,” he said, and wrapped his arm around her waist to tug her into his side. He nuzzled her hair and let out a content sigh. She laughed.

They ambled back into his room so he could dump his dirty clothes into the hamper and then he just kind of... stood there. He wasn’t sure what to do next.

He wanted to go back to hanging out with his friends, but he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to answer any questions they might ask him.

Annabeth, as always, seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and poked his side to pull him out of his head.

“Hey, you don’t have to go back out there,” she said when he looked down. “We can stay here and cuddle, you could nap if you wanted, and we wouldn’t have to move or deal with anyone else until at least tomorrow.”

The thought was tempting, Percy had to admit.

“But if you do want to go back out there, they won’t ask you any questions, I promise.”

Percy stared into her calculating eyes, letting the familiar stormy grey soothe him.

He smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “I think I want to go hang out with them some more,” he muttered against her skin, and Annabeth hummed before pulling back and tugging him along.

“Well then, let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy laughed and let her lead him back out to the living room. Something in him settled seeing all his loved ones still safe and sound under one roof even after he had fallen apart and left them all unprotected.

The first one to notice him was his little sister, who immediately jumped up and ran toward him, squealing, “Puh-see! Puh-see!”

He met her halfway and scooped her up, blowing raspberries into her stomach and then placing her on his shoulders.

“Hey there, Guppy!” He said and Estelle giggled.

“Puh-see friends are the bestest!” She cried, and bounced to be put down, running back over to Hazel and Frank. Percy smiled.

Then, Grover tackled him in a hug.

“Whoa, man!” Percy said, staggering back a step to keep from being bowled over. “I’m okay, I promise,” he smiled and wrapped his arms around his best friend.

“I know, I just want to make sure that you know that we’ll always be here for you, just like you’re always there for us,” Grover said, looking up at Percy with wide, determined eyes before backing up.

“We won’t ask,” Jason said, placing his hand on Percy’s shoulder.

“But if you ever do want to talk about it, we’ll listen.” Nico appeared in front of him and wrapped his arms around Percy’s waist in a quick hug.

“You may be a Kelp Head, but you’re my Kelp Head,” Thalia butt in, grinning up at him and smacking him playfully on the arm.

Percy felt his eyes welling with tears again and sniffled.

“Dammit, guys,” he laughed, and wiped at his eyes. “Thank you,” he smiled, and a warm feeling settled firmly in his chest.

~ ~ ~

Before long, Percy had been manhandled onto the couch with Annabeth pressed firmly into one side and Grover tucked into the other. The rest of their friends filled in from there until they were all in one big demigod dog pile surrounding the couch, with Percy in the middle.

He fell asleep listening to his friends’ quiet chatter and feeling secure in the knowledge that everyone he loved was right within reach.

For the first time in years, Percy slept peacefully through the night.

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villainousshakespeare · 2 years

Text

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 9

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10

What on earth was she thinking?

She knew better than to let Loki press her buttons that way, Caroline thought as she prepared for bed. A bed she would soon be sharing with the stupidly handsome God.

At least the sleep-set he had gotten for her was comfortable. She had been worried it would be something impractical for actually sleeping and had been quite prepared to rifle through his drawers again. To her surprise however, there was a dusty rose cotton top and white and rose striped sleep shorts in one of the bags. They were soft and comfy as she pulled them on, even if the shorts were a bit… well, short.

As she lay in bed with the covers pulled up to her waist, Caroline tried to relax and center her mind. They were both adults. It was silly to think that they couldn’t share a sleeping surface. Yes, Loki might have flirted with her in the past, but that was only to avoid her more probing questions. Determinedly she ignored the brief moment earlier that night when she had thought that he meant to kiss her. It had surely been her overactive imagination.

A sharp knock on the door proceeded Loki into the room. He smiled as he looked at her in the bed. She felt small in the sea of blankets and pillows and her heart beat loudly in her ears.

“They fit properly?” He asked, gesturing in her general direction.

“Yes, thanks,” she answered. Then, to have something to say, “I’m surprised they’re not green.”

"I am aware that other colors exist,” he said with an air of exasperation.

“All evidence to the contrary,” She quipped, eyes looking pointedly at the curtains, bedding, and lastly at his distracting pants.

"Touche," he allowed, sitting on the bed and making her pulse pound even faster. "It is a habit from my days as a child, I suppose. It was easier for the nurses charged with looking after my brother and me to color code us, as it were. Thor, naturally, was given red, the color of war, passion, blood... all of those things Asgardian's prize. Then, when I came along, green was chosen as my color. It made sense. Green is the complimentary color to red, opposite on the color wheel, and Thor and I were opposites made to complement each other. At least, that's how I saw it at first."

"What changed?" she asked quietly, noticing how he was worrying at his hand, a sure sign that he was agitated.

"I came back early from training one day. I had torn my trousers and had not yet learned how to mend them myself with magic. I entered our suite of rooms - Thor and I shared in our childhood years - and overheard Ygritt, the mistress of our wardrobe talking to one of the maids."

He was silent for a length of time, and Caroline wondered if he meant to go on. She had a feeling that he was regretting beginning this story and she kept herself perfectly still in hopes that he would continue.

"'The younger prince has a ways to go before he fills out like his brother,' the maid snickered, looking at one of my tunics. I was all too aware of my rail thin frame at the time, and it stung a bit to hear it mocked so openly.

"'That one will never be the warrior that Prince Thor is,' Ygritt replied. 'He is nothing but a weakling, hoping for status that will never be his. Such a sneaky little thing too. Always trailing after the Prince, weaseling his way in on adventures. Believe me, he will come to no good.'

"'But he loves his brother,' the maid at least stood up for me. I always liked her for that.

"'It's not love, it's envy,' the mistress replied. 'That's why I always dress him in green, cuz he's green with envy at his brother.'

"She had a good laugh over that. I laughed last, though. I planted one of Mother's diamond hair pins in her room for Thor to stumble upon, and he accused her of steeling. She was put out without a reference."

"Good riddance," Caroline said, thinking the woman deserved worse for being so cruel to a child. "Loki, you know she was wrong about you."

"That's just it," Loki said, a twisted look on his face. "She wasn't. I did envy Thor. He was brave and strong and everyone loved him."

"Most children feel admiration for their older siblings," she pointed out. "There's nothing wrong with that. Is that why you kept wearing green? Because you were punishing yourself?"

"In part, perhaps. It was also a reminder of what others thought of me, in case I was ever inclined to forget. They might bow and scrape and call me 'Your Highness' to my face, but I knew after that never to trust in such shows of deference. After a while, I grew to like the color. It matched my eyes, and my mother, Frigga, often commented that it became me. I suppose it became a show of defiance in a way."

"It does become you," Caroline said without thinking, and then felt her face flush once more.

"Thank you," he smiled fleetingly at her. "As the rose does you. It brings out the color of your cheeks. I thought it would when I saw it."

"Thank you, Loki," she said softly.

"It was nothing, a small expense."

"Not just for the clothes, although I am grateful for that. For sharing with me. I know that story could not have been easy to tell."

"It was long ago," he said, sliding into bed beside her. "It hardly matters anymore. I don't know why I even remember it."

Caroline knew, but she decided now was not the time to bring it up.

Loki waved his hand, and the lights went dark. They lay there for a bit, the only light a ray of moonlight slanting through the window. Caroline could feel Loki beside her, the pull towards him magnetic. His breathing was even and deep, indicating that he had already found sleep. She tried to keep herself as still as possible so as not to disturb his rest, but her mind was racing.

He had been so injured, repeatedly and from such a young age. No wonder he carried so much anger with him. Given the power he possessed, it was amazing that he had not done more damage as his psyche screamed out for justice. She wished that she could make him realize just how untrue so many of the claims made against him were, how much he truly was worth.

In her mind she imagined turning to him, her hand going to his cheek. She would brush away the fall of midnight hair that shielded his eyes and trace the sharp bones of his face with a gentle hand. How long had it been since someone had shown him that sort of tenderness? For that matter, how long had it been since she had received it herself?

More than anything, she longed for the courage to do as she imagined. To press her lips to his and see if they kissed her back. She wanted to comfort him, yes, but it was more than that, she would not lie to herself. She wanted him. The brilliant, mercurial, wounded God beside her. But he was a God, and she was an ordinary mortal. Besides, he had shared something with her, a hurt from his past, and she would not use that to manipulate her way into more intimacy than he was inclined to give. Instead of turning towards him, she turned away and pretended to fall asleep.

It was sometime later when, still awake, she felt him roll over onto his side. An arm reached out and curled around her, as if searching for some sort of anchor to hold onto in his dreams. She swallowed a quiet gasp and let herself be pulled closer until her back was pressed against his bare chest. Biting her lip to keep from reacting, Caroline molded herself to him, aware of every inch of hard muscle against her. He gave a small sigh and went still once more.

She lay for some time, not sleeping, just listening to him breath and feeling his heartbeat against her. She thought of the book she had read earlier that day, and slowly a plan began to form in her mind.

***

Loki did not sleep well at the most noneventful times. This had been true for most of his life.

For one thing, he liked being awake at night. Under the moon and stars the world seemed magic and possibilities endless. There was an excitement, a mystery to the darker hours that appealed to his soul.

For another, his brain was just too active to allow him to settle down with any sort of speed. It tended to go into overdrive when he settled in for the night. All of the worries of the day, of things said and unsaid, actions that might have been taken, threats lurking in the back of his consciousness, came roaring to life the moment he closed his eyes and tried for rest.

This tendency, there since birth, had become magnified to the extreme since his fall from the rainbow bridge. All of the pain and terror that he managed to keep just barely in check behind a facade of nonchalance during waking hours broke through in droves when he tried to relax for the night. He would be back, chained to the floor or ceiling, screaming for mercy from a creature who knew none. When he did catch a few moments of sleep, it would only be to waken a short time later, sweaty and shaking, feeling less refreshed than when he had drifted off.

All of this taken into account, he decided he must have been insane to intentionally trap Caroline into sharing his bed. Yes, he had gone into it deliberately, but at the time he had thought only of how alluring he found her. The mix of intelligence and kindness drew him to her, made him want to be closer to her warmth. He only wished he had thought through all of the implications.

As it was, he lay now on his back with one hand under his head, stiff as a board as tried not to disturb the woman next to him. He worked to even out his breathing so that she would not realize that he was lying there in agony, but rather think him as peacefully asleep as she soon seemed to be. He actually feared drifting off for real, lest his nightmares descend and he wake her with his screams and flailing.

He should have just kissed her earlier when the desire had seized him, timer be damned. Let the food burn, he would have found greater nourishment in the touch of her lips than he had in her admittedly delicious pasta dish. Instead, he had been a coward. While he knew in that moment she would have welcomed his embrace, a part of him worried that she would soon come to regret it, and that he would be trapped for the Norns knew how long with a woman who had rejected him or given herself to him out of pity.

And pity him she must! What in all the nine had prompted him to relate that story? He had not thought about it for centuries. Certainly, he didn't carry around hurt feelings about a careless word spoken by a lowly servant. True, he had always liked Ygritt before that, with her yellow braids and bright blue eyes. It had wounded his fragile young ego to have an attractive woman insult him, nothing more.

Why then could he not seem to shake the feeling that had come over him that day? A sad, lonely certainty that no one would ever find him good enough to love him for himself and not his title or his proximity to real power? To his horror, Loki felt his eyes begin to brim with tears, and he rolled onto his side to mask the movement of dashing them away.

The change of position brought him closer to Caroline, and his resistance cracked. She was asleep and thought him so as well, so there would be no real harm in it. If she woke, he could always claim it an unconscious action. He was desperate in that moment for a connection, and she was the first person in longer than he cared to admit who had been kind to him. Abandoning his pride, Loki reached out and pulled her to him, arm circling her.

She was warm and soft, and smelled like his shampoo and the wood fire in the hearth. As he held her, fighting back the tears, she molded herself against him, nestling into the curve of his body. The fabric of her top felt good against his chest, and the length of her legs twining with his brought a rush of blood through his body. On Asgard, women wore dresses, often down to the floor. Loki found that he was very fond of the Midgard fashion of pants, or even better shorts on certain women. The way, for instance, this pair hugged Caroline in an intimate manner, highlighting her shapely rear that he could feel blankets, was distractingly enticing. He could feel his cock hardening and was once more glad that she seemed to be a sound sleeper.

He would not take advantage more than he already was. Caroline had risked her future, her very life, to help him. He owed her everything. Yet in that moment Loki needed the closeness he found with her in his arms. It made him feel safer, perhaps even a bit wanted. Oh, not that she wanted him the way he so clearly wanted her, but she was willing to be with him, here, in this bed. It was more than he had been granted or dared to hope for in years.

He held her for a few hours, drifting in and out of a sleep still troubled, but less so than was his wont. At last, as the sun began to rise, he delicately withdrew his arms from about her. She made no protest, simply rolling over onto her other side and snuggling deeper into the pillow he left free as he rose from the bed. Placing ahead in light kiss on her forehead in thanks for a share of peace, he quietly made his way to the bathroom and then the kitchen to begin the day.

He was surprised when, not long later, she emerged from the bedroom. Caroline had bundled herself in the large purple robe he had purchased for her. She stumbled towards the coffee pot on the counter looking for all the world as though she had been the one to pass a restless night. After pouring herself a large mug and dropping into the chair across from him, she looked at him with a determined expression on her face.

"Do you have a computer with internet capability?" she asked without preamble.

"Well good morning to you to," he grumbled.

"Morning," she said begrudgingly, leaving off the modifier. "Is there a computer I could use?"

"Why?" he asked, antennae raising.

"Because I want to go online."

"Again, I ask, why?"

He was starting to feel a touch nauseous. He had trusted her, let down his guard. He had even gone so far as to reach out to her for solace, though she was blessedly unaware. Was she looking for a way now to betray him?

"There are things I want to purchase," she said.

"Ah. Well then, just give me a list and I will be happy to provide you with anything you need."

"No, I want to get these myself."

"I assure you Dove," he pasted on an insincere smile, "money is no concern."

"I'm not worried about money," she snapped, then, at his raised eyebrow, "you are a prince, after all, Sweetums."

"Sweetums?" his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Dove?" she mimicked his tone.

"What is the problem then?" he asked, deciding to table the nicknames for a later conversation.

"It's a surprise," she grudgingly told him.

"I am afraid it is quite impossible to order anything from a computer, even if we had one," he told her, not liking this at all. "Any signal sent out could be used as a means to track us. Also, how would you have things delivered?"

"Well then, can you make me a list of stores and services that can be found downtown?" she was not letting this go. "I want to make a trip there this afternoon."

"I can take you downtown," he hedged, willing to go that far.

"Fine, but once I get there I need to be on my own."

"What, exactly are you looking for?" he demanded, at the end of his patience.

"Did they not have surprises on Asgard?" she asked waspishly.

"The last time I was surprised," Loki struggled to keep his voice even, "I was pulled off my feet and Hulk smashed into the floor several times. You will forgive me if I have grown wary of them."

He saw her make an effort to control the response that obviously wanted to erupt from her lips. Instead, she took a large swig of coffee and closed her eyes. He was rather sure that she was counting under her breath, but when she opened her eyes there was less irritation in them, replaced by an implacable determination that he was not sure was an improvement.

"Loki," she said, staring him down. "In the time I have known you, I have stolen the Tesseract, sprung you from jail, and accompanied you halfway around the world. I would think that this would buy me a bit of trust. I promise that I have no intention of running away, and I am not going to do something stupid to bring SHIELD down around our ears. I simply have a few errands that I would like to run myself. Now, I am going to go take a long, hot shower. Either write me down a list of shops in the village and put a little faith in me, or you can be the villain everyone else takes you for and tie me to the bed as your prisoner, because otherwise I am going."

Getting huffily out of her chair, she tromped off to the direction of the bathroom, leaving him staring opened mouthed at her. He wasn't sure what had gotten into Caroline this morning, but one thing was certain: it was going to be some time before the idea of her tied to his bed was gone from his mind.

This ended up much more melancholy than I originally intended. I think with everything going on in the world I am feeling a bit vulnerable and wistful, and Loki took some of that on. It does fit well with the theme of the story though, so hopefully you all still enjoyed. I promise, we will get to sexy times eventually, but for now it's still mutual pining.

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danafeelingsick · 2 years

Text

sɪᴄᴋ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ #14

ᴛᴀᴋᴇᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴅᴇ: DRABBLE

ᴀᴏ3 sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

mentioned panic attack

“Calm down, B”, A said softly to a desperate B wolfing down their fresh takeout. “The food is not going to run away from you.”

B slowed down as they heard it, but never stopped eating, they couldn't. They had gone so long without food they weren't going to let any room for it to run away, even if it couldn't possibly do so.

A was admittedly happy to see B finally eating, having them in the safety of the backseat, eyes fixed on them as if they could just vanish into thin air. Their heart could finally rest easy knowing their belly was full and color was returning to their face. But seeing them this desperate broke their heart, knowing what B went through.

“You don't have to worry, there's plenty to go around”, A informed, trying again, landing a grounding hand on B's back, feeling their paper-thin skin shift under their clothes. “You can eat as much as you'd like.”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help it...”, B said as they swallowed the last bite, not a speck of food left.

“I know... Don't apologize, okay?”, they cooed, gently patting them before putting the takeout bag aside, checking once more before they were set to leave for the road.

There was a long drive ahead of them, but A didn't mind it in the slightest. They would go through it a hundred times over if it meant helping B, by putting more distance between them and Whumper.

Poor B couldn't sleep a wink still, even if the drive took hours, as soon as their eyes landed close, they would shoot awake, gasping from a nightmare. A would do their best to soothe them with words, even offering to make another stop if they needed it.

B would always refuse, trying not to bother, then go suddenly quiet, color draining from their face by the second. A didn't notice immediately, the moonlight coming through the window left B under a slight blue hue, leaving them an unnatural pale they couldn't place. This should've been the first sign.

B thought they were hiding well, not allowing the sharp nausea twisting their insides to appear in their face, but it was clear. They were frowning deeply, their face scrunched, small short whimpers leaving them every time they lost concentration. Dizziness washed over them, making them breathe heavily, their throat overtaxed with clearing the saliva filling their mouth.

“B?”, A asked, eyeing them through the rear view mirror. They had asked it a little too late. “Is everything okay?”

“No... I–”, B sobbed in what looked like a sudden outburst, but it had been building up for hours on end. Their body jerked as they tried to contain the pitiful heave that cut through their sentence, a hand muffling their gags desperately. “A, I'm going to–”

They couldn't even finish their warning. Vomit spewed violently behind their hand, the sound of it so close to a spray can at first, quickly turning into garbled retches being choked out. It was everywhere, a lumpy watery mess cascading down their chin, then their shirt, and finally pooling over their lap where it gathered.

B's eyes went so wide it stung, they could see the yellow bits of chewed french fries among that brownish slurry, thickened by the bread and the meat of the burger they had just eaten. It looked as if someone had liquified the meal, mixed it with coke and salad, and B would've preferred to think of it like this, but the smell. Oh, that sharp rancid stench of their own disgusting bile, clinging to their clothes, making that unsightly mixture slimy and muddy, glisten under the light.

“Jesus, B! I'm– I'm pulling over”, A exclaimed, fighting not to take their eyes off the road and immediately attend to sickly pitiful B trying to keep quiet as they body nearly caved in.

B was seeing black spots at this point. Their mind was screaming danger, screaming shame, calling to tears, calling for help, but all they could do is shiver. Every muscle in them clenched painfully as if that would stop their stomach from turning itself inside out. Their throat was filled with chunks, obstructing their breath, but they couldn't even think about it. It was all too much. A hated them.

Hands were all over them, and B winced violently each time, sinking further into themselves, their arms nearly fusing to their torso.

“B? B?”, they heard, but the voice was distant, muffled even, sobs covering it with that pitiful noise. “Breathe, okay? Breathe, B. I'm right here. This is nothing, okay? We can clean everything. It's nothing.”

It's nothing. They repeated, breathing in and out with so much difficulty their body softened almost mechanically. Sharp hacking followed as just suddenly they snapped back, finding the need to breathe again and clear their throat out of seemingly nowhere.

B had been standing so stiff, with a steaming pile of regurgitated fast food soaking into their legs, A could've easily mistaken them for a mannequin. It was only when they coughed that they snapped along with them, moving to use a napkin to fruitlessly clean them when they unclenched their thighs, and the vomit came falling into the car's carpet.

It would've been useless anyway. B coughed and coughed as if their lungs wanted out, the sharp painful sounds giving A pangs of sympathetic pain. They winced along as B lurched forward, projecting out of them one last wave of vomit that bathed the console of the car between the two front seats.

Panting like a dying man, B was left whimpering, mumbling pathetic apologies between their efforts to breath. A managed to drag them out, albeit it gently, but B fell to their knees as soon as they hit the pavement, leaving A to hold them by the shoulders as they went back to heaving.

“Shhh... Shhh, it's okay. I'm right here B”, A informed, hushing them thoroughly as B continued to retch painfully, struggling to come up with anything else. “I'm not mad. I'm not mad.”

B didn't believe them. No matter how much they repeated it, they couldn't believe it. Their apologies would never be enough, but they kept mumbling, like a prayer, like a trance, unable to feel A's gentle touch on their cold skin.

B was out cold before they realized it.

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sparrowsage · 1 year

Text

Comfortember Day 1: Hugs

A Small Step Forward

This takes place during Sparrow's Recovery Arc in my series 'The Warehouse'. It's a short, simple piece, but as the month goes on, more pieces should come out to help shape his recovery journey.

Huge thanks to @oddsconvert for helping me beta this piece, as well as @darkthingshappen and @whumpcereal for being amazing cheerleaders!

TW: Brief mentions of past abuse, previous captivity, recovery whump

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch (if you'd like to be added, let me know!

Sparrow didn’t know what brought him to remove the earbuds from his ears, but he was glad that he did. He had only been living with Felix for around two and a half weeks, and while things were moving along at a somewhat slow pace, Sparrow had learned to care about the other, which he didn’t think would happen.

It was around 9:30pm, and according to the routine Felix had, he should have been in his room reading, but Sparrow could hear something else, something that sounded like quiet crying. It was a sound he could easily point out; there were many pets at the Warehouse that cried quietly, hoping not to cause a disturbance in case the Keepers heard, but needed to let out their fear. Over time, it had become background noise to him and he had stopped paying attention, but hearing it now, in the apartment, made Sparrow concerned.

What would Felix have to be afraid of that would make him cry like this?

He set his iPod and earbuds down beside him on his bed, trying his best to stay quiet as he swung his legs over the side, making his way to the door. He turned the knob and slowly opened it, peeking down the hallway in the direction of Felix's room. The door to his friend's room was slightly ajar, allowing the quiet sobs to travel into the hallway.

Sparrow made his way over to Felix’s bedroom, standing outside of the door, listening. Sparrow could hear the pain and fear in the cries Felix was trying to keep silent, the way he’d go silent for a few moments as he tried to suck in any kind of breath before the quiet sobbing would continue.

After listening to Felix for a moment, hesitating on whether or not he should go into his room, he knocked quietly on the door.

“Felix?” Sparrow asked softly, staying on the other side of the door. Sparrow had learned that it was respectful to not enter someone else's room without permission. Plus, Felix always gave him the same courtesy, always staying on the opposite side if he had said no to the other entering.

He heard a quiet squeak of surprise come from inside the room and the frantic rustling of fabric. After a few moments, Sparrow heard Felix respond, “Yeah? C-come in.”

Sparrow opened the door slowly, going to turn on the overhead light since the room was covered in darkness. When he clicked the light on, Felix tried to shield his face from view, but Sparrow saw what he wanted to hide. His face was red and puffy, the cuffs of his shirt wet from trying to wipe the tears away.

“Felix? You okay?” Sparrow asked, moving towards the bed. He highly doubted his friend was okay, it hadn’t sounded like he was, but he wanted to ask anyway. Felix didn’t look up, his breathing still irregular as he tried to stop crying.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, what's up?”

Sparrow sat on the corner of the bed, looking over Felix before his eyes darted to the covers of the bed. “You didn’t sound okay,” he said, concern lining his voice. “I’ve heard people cry like that before, usually it’s because they’re trying not to be heard but are afraid.”

He lifted his head, trying to catch Felix’s gaze. “What’s got you so afraid that you’re crying like this?”

Felix let out a shaky breath, wiggling his fingers slightly. “I uh, it’s nothing, just me overthinking things I shouldn’t be overthinking.” He looked over in Sparrow’s direction, eyes closed with a smile on his face. A smile Sparrow knew was fake.

“See? I-I’m fine,” Felix told him, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Sparrow.

Sparrow could hear in his voice how upset he was, the way it shook with the threat of more tears and how his breath hitched slightly at the end of his sentence. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment, not knowing entirely what to do, before he decided on something.

He shifted himself up onto the bed more, moving across it towards Felix in a quick, fluid movement before embracing the other in a hug, a proper hug, holding him tight while burying his face in the other's shoulder.

This caught Felix by complete surprise, his arms slightly out by his sides as he tried to register what was happening. Sparrow never engaged in physical contact and Felix could understand why with what had been explained to him. He was open to it, but he had wanted Sparrow to initiate it on his own time once he was ready and comfortable. While he had a small doubt that Sparrow wasn't 100% ready for physical contact, Felix was quite grateful for the hug.

A second or two passed before Felix returned the hug, tears spilling out of his eyes as he finally let out a loud, proper sob.

“I-I’m just s-so scared I-I’m not pro-providing the help and safety you need,” Felix said in between sobs. “T-that I can’t help yo-you the way you need h-help.”

Sparrow rubbed Felix’s back softly, shaking his head a little, enough for Felix to feel it. He had no idea what to say or do here, but he tried to think of something anyway.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m okay, aren’t I?” Sparrow asked. “If you weren’t able to help me, why would Alex have suggested this whole thing? He knew you could help, and you have.” Sparrow paused for a moment, trying to push himself to say the next few words.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It took Felix a moment or two before he broke the hug, but when he did, he looked at Sparrow, who returned the gaze. It was the first time they had held eye contact for longer than a second.

“R-really?” Felix asked.

Sparrow nodded, giving his friend a soft smile. “It’ll be okay, promise.”

Felix returned the smile before going in for another hug, Sparrow happily returning the favor.

#Comfortemeber #Comfortember 2022 #Comfortember2022 #The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Felix Wright #recovery whump #mentions of past abuse #previous captivity #hugs

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mandogab · 1 year

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‼️ Contains spoilers for S3E7 ‼️

Summary:

Bo-Katan must confront her past. And she meets someone who has been dead to her for years.

🎶 Valley of Death – Skillet

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whumpinggrounds · 2 years

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What have I done for august?

At long last, an August update! For @badthingshappenbingo :)

Tagging my superhero crew - @whatwasmyprevioususername, @princess-poopsicle, @snowshower, @whumpywritings

CW: sidekick whumpee, hero whumper, villain caretaker, guilt, angst, mentions of past abuse

They don’t let August be a part of the discussions about going after the villain. “Beck can see it’s upsetting you,” Don tells his apprentice, looking irritated. As if he has any right to be angry about it. “He knows you’re too much a coward to do what needs to be done.”

“I’m not a coward,” snaps August, although he flinches when Don rounds on him. “I don’t want to see the wrong person get…get hurt.”

Don grunts, looking spectacularly unimpressed. “Then you shouldn’t have told Beck it was your little villain friend.”

Shame pools in August’s stomach, but he tries his best to sound defiant. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been going after me with a knife for hours.”

“Hours.” Don snorts. “You folded in about thirty minutes.”

Flushing, August finds his mouth working, but there’s nothing to say. “Fuck you,” he spits, and Don slaps him almost casually, one massive hand flicking out deceptively quickly and sending August reeling into the wall. The dozens of scabbed over cuts on his torso sing out protests that have him wincing, curling over on himself. From above him – lofty, unbothered, unassailable – Don snorts.

August hates how, around Donovan, he always finds himself flinching, cringing, small. It’s still not a relief when Don and Beck leave, hours later, grim-faced and carrying weapons. August can’t trail them out the door, not with Val watching his every move like a hawk. Miserable, he retreats to their common room, where he paces endless circles around the room under the medic’s increasingly exasperated eyes.

“Why don’t you just go run a few laps, if you have this much energy?” she grouses, on about his thirtieth trip around the couch.

“I…I want to know what’s going on.” Val points to the walkie-talkie clipped to her shoulder, but August shakes his head. He knows there won’t be any lurid detail coming from there. His tortured gaze flicks up to the TV screen, where the evening news is being transmitted with dry professionalism. There’s no breathless talk of a high-speed chase, or an explosion, or a gunfight or anything like that. That’s a good thing, right? Right?

Completely misreading his anxiety, Val shakes her head. “Beck and Don are going to be fine, you know. They’ve been doing this a long time.”

“That’s not...I’m not…” August huffs. “That’s great. I’m sure they will be.”

“Don’t get prickly on me just because I can’t read your mind.” Val sounds completely unbothered by his tone, but it’s just like her, to not let him get away with that.

“I’m not getting prickly.”

“Yes, you are. You can either cut it out or tell me why.”

“Or you could leave me alone.”

“Nope.” Val shakes her head so her cropped hair swings. “I’m babysitting for the night.”

August scowls. “Do you have to call it that?”

“What else do you call watching a kid so they don’t do anything stupid?”

August opens his mouth to respond but can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t sound like whining. He closes it with a snap and turns away, pacing in the other direction so Valerie can’t see his face. He doesn’t want her to see how upset he truly is, but something in his body must give it away, because when she speaks again, her voice is softer.

“Look. I know you’re upset. You have every right to be. And I know you want to be a hero now, too. But this…this is better left to Don and Beck. And, you know, someday you’ll be with them. But right now…today…you need to let them do this.”

It would’ve been a great speech if Valerie hadn’t been so completely off base. Swallowing hard, August encounters a lump in his throat of alarming size. He can’t cry in front of Valerie. He just can’t.

Taking a deep, controlled breath, August chooses his words with exceeding care. “It’s not…that I want…to be the one to take them…take them down.” He admits it slowly. He’s still not sure if he should tell her – and he’s certainly not going to tell her the full truth – but he can’t keep carrying this anxiety and guilt. The pressure feels like it’s going to squash him flat. “I’m not…angry. I feel…guilty.”

“Guilty?” Valerie stares at him, incredulous. “Guilty about what?”

The lump in August’s throat makes it hard for him to speak. Still facing away from Val, staring fixedly at the dark navy wall in front of him, August swallows, then swallows again. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

The admission comes out tiny, pathetic. Val drowns it out with her response. “What? August, look at me. What?”

Reluctantly, he turns to face her. Val’s hands are planted on her hips and she’s glaring fit to kill. It’s enough to break August’s misery and make him snort, just a little. Rolling her eyes, she marches up to him and pokes a finger in the center of his chest.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I was the one who patched up your sorry ass after you got back here.” Holding up her hand in front of his face, she ticks off her fingers one by one. “Broken ribs. Dislocated arm. More cuts and bruises than I could count. Broken nose! Concussion. Do I need to go on?”

The smile slips from August’s face. “No.”

“That asshole beat the shit out of you. You really don’t need to worry about them getting hurt now.”

“I…” August shakes his head. “It wasn’t…so bad. Really. And…and I just don’t want…and what if I was wrong, anyway? What if it wasn’t…that…villain?”

What if it was the hero that’s supposed to be training me?

Now it’s Valerie’s turn to shake her head. “Where is this martyr thing coming from? I hadn’t pegged you for such a…bleeding heart.”

Despair wells up in August, fast and heavy-making. It feels like a cloud falling over him, like a sorrow too big for words. Val is looking at him with confusion and compassion and the faintest irritation in her eyes, and it’s like she’s staring from the other side of a canyon, or a mountain too big to climb. August settles for the smallest, simplest truth. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. I don’t…want it to be my fault that anyone gets hurt.”

Valerie heaves an exasperated sigh. “It’s not going to be your fault, and besides, it shouldn’t matter when the person getting hurt is a colossal asshole that beat the shit out of you.” She nudges him, but August can’t even fake a grin. “And-”

The walkie clipped to Val’s shoulder crackles to life. “Headed home.”

It’s Beck’s voice, the words terse. Even over radio waves, August can tell he doesn’t sound happy. The two exchange a wide-eyed look, and Val presses the transmit button. “Any need for medical?”

She keeps her face smooth and her voice even, but August sees the finest tremble in her fingers as they wait, poised for action and tense all over, for a reply.

It’s Don’s voice that comes through next, and August can hear the man’s smirk. “Not for us,” he tells them, and August’s knees go out. He sinks into the couch behind him, hands coming up to cover his face. It feels dramatic; it feels too obvious, but he can’t stop the hot stinging tears that come rushing to his eyes.

The villain’s soft voice. Their teasing. Their concerned eyes. The questions. The phone number that’s still tucked beneath the sole of his latest pair of shoes.

“What have I done?” August breathes, no longer caring if Val can hear him. She places a hand on his shoulder, but he barely registers. He just feels numb. “What the fuck have I done?”

#august the blur #superhero whumpee #sidekick whumpee #superhero whump #hero whumper #superhero whumper #villain caretaker #guilt #angst #bthb #bad things happen bingo: what have i done #bthb: what have i done #male whumpee #male whumper #mentions of past abuse

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the-obiwan-for-me · 2 years

Link

Bo-Katan Week, Day 4: Scars

Bo-Katan has many scars- on her body and heart.

@bokatanweek

#bo katan kryze #fenn rau #BoFenn #nightmares #bad dreams #scars #wounds #mentions of past abuse #post Heroes of Mandalore #Fenn is just a great guy #bo katan week #bo katan week 2022 #bkw 2022 #fanfic #my fic

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lunarninja613 · 1 year

Text

Where I Belong (Modern Bad Batch AU) Chapter Six

Credit to @alligatorpie1945 and @kaydear.

Author's Note: The cots that Omega and Umber used to sleep in have been replaced with beds now that they are permanently staying with their brothers.

Warnings: trauma, panic attack, storms, flashbacks, past abuse, angst with a fluffy ending, I feel like Crosshair might be a bit out of character

Words: 1466

Umber sat alone in her bedroom, looking out the window at the stormy night sky. The string lights that Wrecker had put up when Omega and Umber first arrived were the only source of light in the room.

The moon and the stars were blocked out by the large dark clouds that filled the night sky. The room was filled with the sound of rain hammering against the roof and windows, along with the occasional clap of thunder. Droplets of rain trickled down the window as lightning flashed across the dark cloudy sky. It was interesting how something could seem so soothing, yet so violent at the same time.

The strange serenity did not last long however, as the string lights began flickering on and off, threatening to plunge the room into darkness.

Umber stared at the lights, as if that would somehow keep them from going out. Her efforts were in vain though, as a large bolt of lightning lit up the cloudy night sky before the room was consumed by darkness.

Umber could feel her heart race as she sat alone in the dark, a scenario that she was all too familiar with. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the memories that came flooding back. Memories of her mother dragging her by the arm after she had either failed to complete a task or had stepped out of line. Memories of being thrown into a dark, empty room that was locked from the outside before being left to cry alone in the dark, screaming for someone to let her out. She could still picture the scratch marks on the door and the tallies that were engraved on the walls.

Umber didn’t know how many times she had been locked up in that horrid room, or for how long she would be trapped in there, but she knew for certain that she both feared and hated that room. Now it felt like she was back in that pitch black room all over again.

Umber scrambled backwards, her back hitting the wall with a loud thud. She felt knots begin forming in her stomach as her breathing quickened. She couldn’t think straight anymore, and the sounds of thunder and rain were being drowned out by the ringing in her ears.

The once violent storm outside now seemed like a slight drizzle compared to the raging hurricane that Umber felt inside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crosshair lay sprawled out on the couch in the living room as he scrolled through his phone. He should’ve been at work, but his boss had practically forced him to take time off. He’d been spending a lot of time at work over the past three weeks, which now that he thought about it, was probably the reason that his boss had so strongly insisted that he take some time off.

And since he had time off of work, he had been tasked with babysitting Umber while his brothers and Omega ran some errands. He wasn’t entirely sure what those errands were though. Both Hunter and Echo had told him, but he hadn’t paid much attention to what they had been saying at the time.

Babysitting Umber was easy enough though. She was still distant, but not because she was scared of Crosshair and his brothers, rather she was just unsure how to approach them. He understood that. Having been raised in a lab with only his brothers for company, Crosshair hadn’t left Nala Se’s care with the best social skills either. Even as an adult he was still terrible at interacting with other people.

Just then, the living room lights began flickering before shutting off, along with all the other lights in the house.

“Great, a blackout. Just what I needed.” Crosshair groaned as he got up from the couch.

He turned his phone’s flashlight on and was about to check the electrical box, when he heard a loud thud coming from upstairs. He turned and shone his light up the stairs, but there was no one there. Crosshair then slowly made his way up the stairs and down the hall, checking all of the rooms for whatever had caused the noise.

He eventually reached Omega and Umber’s room at the end of the hallway. Crosshair slowly opened the door and shone the light around the room. As Crosshair scanned the room, he saw something move out of the corner of his eye.

He shone the light on where he had seen the movement, and saw Umber sitting on her bed, backed up against the wall, her body was shaking, and her breathing was frantic. Crosshair immediately understood what was happening, having gone through many panic attacks himself, as well as helping his brothers through some too. But he didn’t know anything about kids. Plus, he had been trying to avoid this particular child for three weeks!

He thought about calling Hunter or Echo, get one of them to try and calm the kid down over the phone. He even thought of walking away in hopes that Umber would figure it out herself, because looking at her made Crosshair feel like he was looking at a younger version of himself. He kind of hated how similar he and Umber were.

Crosshair wasn’t sure how long he had been standing in the doorway before he heard Umber’s quiet whimpers mixed in with her frantic breathing. He also wasn’t sure what had come over him as he found himself carefully making his way over to Umber’s bed.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, keeping his distance so as not to overwhelm the panicked ten year old.

“Hey, kid, look at me. I need you to breathe with me, okay?” Crosshair asked, his voice stern, but also surprisingly gentle.

Umber’s head shot up and Crosshair could see the tears in her eyes.

“Kid, I need you to breathe with me.” Crosshair repeated in the same stern, yet gentle tone.

He began taking slow, steady breaths, in and out, eventually, getting Umber to do the same until she was breathing normally again, albeit a bit shakily.

“Yeah, there you go. Good girl.” Crosshair said.

The storm outside seemed to have calmed down as well, and the moon was able to peek through the clouds and shine through the bedroom window. The room was silent, save for Umber’s sniffling as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Crosshair got up and grabbed a half-empty packet of kleenex from Omega’s nightstand and handed it to Umber. After she blew her nose, Crosshair took the used kleenex and threw it in a small, teal trash bin that sat in the corner of the room.

Crosshair sat awkwardly at the edge of the bed, wondering what he was supposed to do next. For a moment, he considered asking Umber what had happened, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to risk triggering another panic attack. Crosshair thought about leaving and going back downstairs, maybe he could try to pretend like nothing had happened.

Those thoughts were dashed though, when he saw Umber staring up at him with her large amber eyes, a look of yearning written across her face.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Crosshair asked, trying not to sound as uncertain as he felt.

Umber lowered her head a bit and nodded shyly in response, which made Crosshair feel a little less awkward about his next question.

“Is it okay if I stay in the bed with you?” he asked, earning a confused look from Umber. “I don’t want to get a sore back from sleeping on the floor.” he explained.

Umber pondered his words for a moment before nodding her head. Crosshair shifted so that he was lying down on the bed, and once he had gotten comfortable, he motioned for Umber to lie down. He was a bit surprised when Umber laid down and nestled up against him.

The room was silent now that the rain had ceased. The moon poked through the clouds and shone through the bedroom window, the trees outside and the remaining raindrops on the window casting shadows on the floor. Everything just felt so calm and peaceful at that moment.

And just as Crosshair felt himself drifting off to sleep, he heard Umber’s quiet, sleepy whisper break the silence.

“Thank you, Crosshair.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hunter couldn’t help but smile when he came home late that night to find Crosshair sleeping in the twins’ room with Umber, who was fast asleep in his arms.

“Okay, that’s adorable,” Echo whispered, a fond smile plastered on his face, “Tech, please tell me you’re taking pictures.” he added, turning to look at Tech, who had his phone pointed at their peaceful looking siblings.

With an identical smile, Tech replied, “Obviously.”

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process-pending · 2 years

Quote

"You are what?” Jaskier doesn’t expect the voice to sound from behind him which is foolish considering the hallway at his back. Lurching forward only his hands keep his chest from ramming into the bar edge. It’s when no blow follows, Triss having pulled from Eskel’s hold, her hand on his, that he remembers how to breathe again.

Take Me Back (Chapter 2)

#Witcher #Modern AU #Biker AU #Hurt/Comfort #Mentions of Past Abuse #Major Character Injury #Disabled Jaskier #I swear there's fluff in this chapter #And banter #And oh so much pining #Eventual Geraskier #Take Me Back #Take Me Back (To the Night We Met)

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wilwywaylan · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Credence Barebone & Aberforth Dumbledore Characters: Credence Barebone, Aberforth Dumbledore Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, post-FB3, mindful fluff, Found Family, I have feelings okay, Mentions of past abuse Summary:

What if you had a chance ? A chance to make everything right ? What if, for once, life was kind to you ?

Beta-ed by the amazing @calimera62 !

It had taken approximatively five hours for the rumor to go round the whole school. The older students had not even crossed the threshold, back from their day in Hogsmeade, that already the word had spread, through the corridors, up the stairs, down the passages, reaching the owlery and the greenhouses, slipping through the shelves in the library, climbing to the higher towers. Five hours later, every last student had heard everything about the new, shiny, exciting gossip, every last word about the new Hogsmeade inhabitant. Which, of course, was the cause of a great deal of frustration, because the large majority of them would have to wait two whole months before getting to see him.

It started with a group of Ravenclaws, who talked breathlessly about a mysterious, almost shadowy person they glimpsed. They couldn't agree on the location, some said at the Hog's Head, some in a field, behind the farthest row of houses, and according to one, hiding in the owlery in a way that was very ominous. Their bickering could have become a full-blown fight, had a few Hufflepuffs (and one Ravenclaw) not burst into the scene and confirmed that they too had seen the person, and that not only did they appear in both the Hog's Head and the overgrown garden just behind it, but it was a boy.

The new clue sent every student who heard it into a frenzy. They were falling over each other to bring to the table the juiciest tidbit of information, each trying to out-gossip the last. The boy was tall, he was strong, he was drop-dead handsome, he was dangerous, he was lonely, he was agressive, and silent, and talkative and...

At the end of the day, no one knew exactly what the boy was like, or who it was, or even if he was a boy, a man, a professor or a centaur. The students seemed to have reached a consensus, that the mysterious stranger was tall, younger than Dumbledore, and seemed to have dark hair at least longer than most of them had, hiding most of his face, making it harder to get a good look at him. Any more information would be a riddle for the ages, or at least for the very long two months before finally being able to see him with their own two eyes.

Credence slipped a piece of paper between the pages of his book and set it on the windowsill, away from the rain. He stretched his back, throwing his arms above his head, until his back gave a satisfying, painless crack. Just one year before, the gesture would have been followed by a sharp pain up his back, that, on bad days, would explode in his head in a flurry of sparks. Getting to sleep on a good mattress instead of a hard floor might have already played a role in his recovery, but it couldn't do much for that tingling at the back of his neck, that foreboding feeling that never receeded, dogging his every step. In all these years, he'd never been alone, the shadow over his shoulder always looking, always present, pulling at his neck, coiling around his ribs, crushing his breath inside his chest. A needle at the back of his mind, always in the red, always ready to burst, to flood his mind, lock him in place as terror overcame him. And that thing, that creature that was always ready to jump out when it did, raising mayhem and leaving him exhausted, alone and terrified. A neverending fear, of her, of himself, of all of them. And loneliness, almost as deafening as the screeches of the creature. Always with him, the only one to never leave him.

As with the pain in his back, being (troubled) (manipulated) (lied to) taken in by Grindelwald had only made it a little better. The bed might have been more comfortable, but the sensation was always there, a threat hanging above his head. The roaring at the back of his mind, if now tamed, was still as furious, ready to lash out at the slightest occasion, at him or at everything around him. Ready to turn into a beacon of destruction again, to make him an object of fear, of revulsion. The one you drive away, the one you beat, the one you kill. He'd been alone there too, followed but feared, surrounded, but enclosed. A wild card, a weapon, a tool of war more than a person. Even as a part of him now, the Obscurus had traced a line around him, a line that no one had dared to cut.

Not even Grindelwald. He knew it now. Grindelwald had watched him from afar, pretending to care about him, about his pain, about the emptiness inside him, when he'd never stepped close to him, never crossed that line. Never reached out to him. He gave him what Credence wanted - or thought he wanted -, crumbs of affection and answers made of lies. To better keep him at his heel.

It had hurt so much, when Credence finally realized it. Finally realized that it was all just the same, that it was just another person lying to him, leading him on to make him complacent. Someone else that saw nothing more in him than someone to be used, to do their biding while keeping him on a leash. A leash made of words, instead of fear and blood, but nothing more than a leash wrapped around his neck, that Grindelwald tried to tighten when Credence started to fight back, holding him at his heel like a dog. A dog, and nothing more.

A dog that bit back too late, he thought at he climbed the grassy slope leading back to the Hog's Head. Something moved on his left, a curtain as if waving in the breeze. But the chilly air was still, and the window was closed. Credence didn't pay it any mind. He'd grown used to moving curtains and ajar doors quickly closing when he went past. The news of his arrival certainly did get tongues running. Could he really blame them ? He didn't know. A part of him wanted to ; it had been very uncomfortable, on the first days, to feel those eyes on him, on his every move. A taste of the past that kept him inside, away from them.

He had been so scared, on those first days. Scared to have made the wrong choice all over again, to have given his trust blindingly, to have followed a man that would, once again, take advantage of him. Once, (Mother) (the Devil) (heartless) Mary-Lou told him that he would never manage to get free of his sins unless he stopped being so stubborn and submitted to God's will. He had tried, again and again, of course, but not once had she accepted his efforts. He'd always be the black sheep, the sinner, in her eyes... and maybe in his own too. Maybe that's why he surrendered, in the end. Maybe that was the path he was forced to thread, again and again, until the end of times.

The wall behind him is cold, seeping through his coat to chill him to the bone. He tries to gather himself, to stop his mind from spinning. He'd never get used to that way of moving, and he has been grabbed way too fast for him to get ready for it. He leans against the stone, trying to ignore the sharp ridges digging into his skin. The voice in his mind is roaring, stronger than ever, ready to break through the shreds of his barriers, to take over again, to destroy them. To destroy him. It takes everything he has, every little ounce of energy left to keep it at bay, just a bit longer. He's going to collapse in a few seconds, and it will come out. Maybe for the last time. The thought is not as scary as it once was. He's exhausted. He just wants it to end. To stop, once and for all. It's not comforting, just... sad. Empty.

A hand grasps his arm. He doesn't jump because there's just nothing in him that can get scared anymore, just looks up wearily. The man, the one he's been writing to through the mirrors, the one that protected him a few seconds ago from Grindelwald, is here. He's looking at him, and from so close, the worry creasing his forehead, filling his eyes, looks genuine. Credence stares back, tries to read his face. He's trying to see something of himself in him, something that would confirm that all of this is not a cruel lie, a new ploy from Grindelwald. That this strange man, the one who, not long ago, was an enemy, is who he claims to be. He can't see it ; the man looks a lot like the one he fought earlier, but nothing like him. Still, he's looking at him with a kindness that Credence suddenly really wants to be genuine.

- Did you ever think of me ?

The question has escaped him. There are a lot of things he wants to know, about that man, about what he wants and what he's going to do, and if he can trust him, but the words jumped out. The man gives him a sad smile, and squeezes his shoulder.

- Always.

His voice is hoarse, but there's no harshness in it, no bite. It's as soft, as gentle as he had imagined when he allowed himself to think about it. Credence can feel tears starting to roll on his cheeks, but he doesn't wipe them out. The man doesn't mention them, doesn't scold him for crying.

- Come home, he only says.

The words ring in Credence's mind, his own words, the ones he wanted so much to hear, reducing the roaring to nothing more than a whisper.

He nods.

The Hog's Head was almost silent when he pushed the door. Only two men were sitting in the back, too caught in their conversation to even acknowledge him. The woman near the garden window did look up briefly, but she went back to her book just as fast. Good. His novelty might have worn out, finally. Several times now, Credence had not felt the urge to hover near the door, trying to see if the room was clear before coming inside, to avoid the curiosity of strangers. Not a bad thing.

The man behind the counter looked up when he heard the door close. He gave him an encouraging smile that Credence tried to mirror, but didn't ask him anything. For this, Credence was grateful. Not that the attention was uncomfortable, of course not, but it was a bit... overwhelming. Going from being mostly ignored to the center of attention, even of one person, brought back memories that were better left to rest and burried under a stone. Not to mention the awkwardness of the situation between them. A few weeks before, the man was a total stranger, as Credence was to him. Just a few faceless words on a mirror, a few pleading, yearning sentences hastly wiped away. He'd wondered so much about this mysterious man, what he looked like, how he sounded. Would there be kindness in his eyes ? Would his voice be soft ? Would they look alike ? Or not at all ?

A cup was put on the counter in front of him. The clear liquid in it was still steaming, and smelled strongly of mint. Credence didn't even need to taste it to know it had been sweetened as he liked. He nodded in thanks. After pondering for a second if he would be better sitting in the kitchen, he pulled a stool and sat at the counter, his back turned to the room. Not his prefered spot, nor position, but for once, he didn't feel like locking himself away. He'd done it enough when arriving here, when he all but hid in his room and didn't meet anyone until at least one week had passed. But where he was expecting a rebuttal, a threat, maybe, or a promise of punishment, he was met only with silence. Food was deposited in front of his door, along with everything he might have needed, and no blame was given.

He did get out, sneaking out on the fourth day, around 2 AM, when he was sure no one was around. Why, he didn't really know. Fear of being caught was twisting in his chest, and he had to stop every two steps to listen for the slightest noise that would indicate another person awake. But he needed to get out of the room. He'd stepped along the corridor, trying to make himself as small and silent as a mouse. The old stairs had creaked a little under his feet, but hadn't gave him away. He'd stopped at the bottom, trying to figure what to do and where to go. Trying not to panic and run, too. To anyone, this would have looked like someone running away from home. It had brought to his mind memories of when he'd tried to leave the Second Salem's Church. He hadn't gone very far, and the very fleeting feeling of freedom hadn't been worth it.

But he hadn't meant to run away, not yet at least. Just... He hadn't known at the time, and he didn't know now. Maybe it was just a way of reassuring himself. Testing if the doors were locked as in Nurmengard, carefully coralling in the direction he was meant to, without giving him any choice. But all the doors were unlocked, including the one closing the pantry. Credence had been tempted to raid it, grab what he could and hole up in his room again, but he wasn't the hungry kid anymore, and that might have reflected poorly on him. Instead, he went to try the front door, and was bewildered to find it unlocked too. The little bit he'd seen of Hogsmeade hadn't given him the impression of a dangerous place, more like a small community. But still, to leave the door leading outside open to everyone... Everyone, including him. He could have left here and there, without glancing back. He could have left this place, try to find his place in this world again, away from everyone who may have known the old him and try to hold him back. Start anew, with a blank slate. There might have been a place where no one would know his secrets, and wouldn't care enough to find about them.

But he hadn't left, of course. Something had held him back as he tried to step over the treshold. A very slight hope that, maybe, this place could hold something for him. Not happiness, of course. This, he didn't hope for anymore. But maybe some kind of solace. A place to rest, after all these years spent running. A place where he shouldn't need to look over his shoulder. And so, he had closed the door, walked back to his room, careful not to make any noise, and went back to bed. Sleep didn't come until the small hours of the dawn, but it came, at last, and for the first time since he didn't even remember when, he didn't dream.

Things were not the same, after that. Slowly, Credence had started to feel more at ease in this house. Less jittery, less skittish. It wasn't a familiarity, not yet, but it was better. In no small way, it was helped by (his father) Aberforth, who was doing his best. He probably didn't know how to act like a father, who just got saddled with an adult man. Credence could have told him that his standards were so low that just being half-decent would have been miles above what he was used to. But that was not something he was ready to talk about yet. Later, maybe, when he'd feel comfortable enough. He didn't want to be pitied, and he didn't want Aberforth to feel forced to compensate for what he'd been through. Because he didn't need to. It wouldn't fix anything.

And if he kept just being there, and being patient, maybe there wouldn't be a need to fix it. Maybe, he thought while sipping a bit of the still-too-hot tea, maybe it would be enough, to stay here and just... be around. Why not ? Lately, he'd started to think about it, allow himself to carefully build a little fantasy. Nothing like the hazy half-wishes he'd kept well-hidden when in Nurmengard, or the stray thoughts that had made him felt so guilty when he was still with the Salemers. Nothing extravagant, either, just some wishful thinking. That, maybe, he could stay here, at the Hog's Head, and not leave again. He could work here, help with the customers, or clean the dishes if it prove too much for him. He'd go on walks around the village, explore the countryside that was brimming with things he'd never seen before, having spent all his life in the city. He could build a relationship with Aberforth, and with Albus too, maybe. Perhaps with the strange man with the suitcase, who came from time to time and sat alone in the corner. About him, Credence wasn't too sure yet. But when it came floating at the surface of his mind, he allowed himself the idea that he'd have the time to see.

Because yes, he'd have the time, if things turned in his favor for once. And why shouldn't they ? Why, for once in his life, couldn't he have a bit of luck, just a little bit ? He didn't ask for much, after all. Nothing but a little bit of peace, a little space for himself and that strange family he'd starting to gather. He could make himself a little life here. Not the kind he dreamed of when he was still very young and believed in fairytales, or the kind that Grindelwald had promised him. He didn't wish for a castle, power or money. Just a little life here, working in a pub like any other man out there. Learning magic didn't come up as often, it was still a part of his heritage he was wary of, but it had a certain allure. Especially when he could witness a feat of magic, either from Aberforth or from one of the kids that invaded the village from time to time. He could get a few lessons, enough to put it to use in his everyday life. Albus had offered to let him borrow as many books in the school's library, and he really wanted to take advantage of the offer. Just sit in a chair by the fire, with a good book, and take the time to just be.

So yes, maybe finally, things could get better, here in this strange little village lost in the mountains. Maybe he could stop being someone's tool, someone's monster, and start becoming Credence. Or Aurelius. After all, they were the same person, the one he could become, given time and just a little bit of happiness. And maybe, just maybe, he would find them there.

With the hint of a smile, Credence picked up his cup and saucer, brought them to the kitchen, and put them near the already full sink. He tied an apron around his waist, pulled his hair back, and started to clean the dishes, humming a little under his breath. Yes, happiness was within his reach, and he was going to take it. And maybe everything would turn out well for him. Not in the end, because that wasn't the end. It was a beginning. And maybe for him, it would be a happy one.

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts the secrets of dumbledore #credence barebone #aberforth dumbledore #canon compliant #fantastic beasts spoilers #found family #I just have lots of feelings okay #mentions of past abuse

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bespectacled-bookwyrm · 6 months

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2023 Whumptober 20

Summary: Wherein Alder gains a second son (and N gains a big brother).

Written for the 2023 Whumptober event!

#Whumptober2023 #No.20 #Found Family #Pokemon #Fanfic #Mentions of past abuse #Mentions of past child abuse #Pokemon Alder #Champion Alder #Colress #N Harmonia #Volcarona #Beheeyem #Alder is their dad now

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villainousshakespeare · 2 years

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Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 7

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

It took about a day before Caroline's body had recovered from the shock of traveling by Tesseract. She had spent most of that time sleeping. If she had suspicions that Loki's magic might have subtly nudged her towards rest, she kept them to herself. The luxury of untroubled sleep was such a pleasure for her that she simply smiled and curled up into his very comfortable bed.

It also helped that he was just a fantastic cook. Of course he was, she sighed to herself. She had the feeling that Loki would be good at anything he set his mind to, and those few things that he didn't have instant mastery over he would avoid doing until he had secretly perfected them. The venison he had prepared was just the sort of hearty meal, excellently seasoned and accompanied by a full bodied red wine, to induce a food coma of the highest order.

After making quick work of the meal served to her on a tray in bed, Loki had suggested that Caroline return to sleep. She was more than happy to comply, uncharacteristically putting off confronting what had occurred for another day. She was too tired, and most likely a little in shock her professional brain whispered, to do more than agree with him.

"Don't worry darling," he had said softly, turning off the light. "You'll get used to this form of travel soon enough."

The implications of that statement were another thing she decided best handled after a full night's sleep, so she closed her eyes and surrendered to darkness.

By the time she woke up, it was midday. A crisp ray of sunlight fell through a spotless window that had appeared boarded over from the outside. As she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Caroline could see snow falling softly but steadily, already rising to almost the height of the glass. She gave a huge stretch and pushed off the puffy comforter, ready at last to face the day and both the rash decision she had made and the unintended journey that had resulted from it.

Loki, apparently as good a host as he was a chef, had left a long green robe and slippers hanging on the back of the door. Considering that she was still embarrassingly dressed in her button-down work blouse, Caroline was grateful to be able to pull on something comfortable. She made quick use of the bathroom, including availing herself of a new toothbrush sitting on the sink and doing her best to make her riot of hair look like it belonged on a human being. Once she felt somewhat presentable, she made her way out of the bedroom suite, ready to determine the path for her immediate future with the alien God with whom she had however inadvertently cast her lot.

Unfortunately for those plans, Loki was nowhere to be found. Caroline searched the other rooms, an easy feat considering they consisted simply of a living room, kitchen with dining area, half bath, and a wonderfully large closet that in her youth she would have assumed led to Narnia, so filled was it with coats and boots and other winter needs.

As she looked around, she was struck with a wave of guilt. She had not given a thought to where Loki was to sleep last night, so exhausted had she been herself. She supposed he must have made use of the sofa sitting before the merrily crackling hearth in the livingroom, but upon inspection there was no way his long limbs would have fit comfortable onto it. She, of course, had occupied his bed, selfishly taking up all that comfortable room herself. Well, if they were to stay here longer, that would have to change.

Circling back to the kitchen, she noticed that a pan was sitting towards the back of the stove. Lifting the lid, she was assailed by the delicious smell of bacon, and spiced potatoes. Her stomach gave an embarrassing grumble, making her realize just how hungry she was. Grabbing a plate from a nearby cupboard, she piled a heap of food onto her plate. Surprisingly, it was still warm as if it had just been prepared. She supposed one of the benefits of having a magical host was that food would always be served just as intended. After pouring a large cup of coffee from the obliging pot on the counter, she sat down and had first class mid-day breakfast.

When Loki still had not returned by the time she had finished eating and taken a long, steamy shower, Caroline began to grow fret. She had no idea where she was, after all. He had left her food for the day, and she was sure there was more in the kitchen, but she had no money, no means of transportation, and no way of communicating with the outside world. If something had happened to him, she would be in something of a predicament.

No, she decided. She would not worry yet. It was still light out, and for all she knew there was a town quite close that he had gone to for supplies. SHIELD might be - would be - after them, but they had no idea where to begin looking. Thor was the only one who knew Loki's habits, and thanks to Pierce's maneuverings, he had not been on the base when they had disappeared. It would be some time before they would have to worry about discovery. Loki would return when his mercurial mood prompted him, and she would just have to make the best of things until then.

Making the best of things began with rooting through the drawers of the large armoire in the bedroom until she found clothing that she could conceivably wear. A comfy sweater of hunter green was by far too large for her, but the cuffs were narrow enough that she could push them up and have them stay above her wrists. The bottom half was more troublesome, but she eventually found fleece lined leggings that while again far too large could be rolled up to make do. A quick glance in the mirror showed her to look like a child dressing up in their parent's clothes, and she chuckled at the sight good naturedly. She would think of this as a winter holiday, she decided. A recess from the real world.

That thought led her to another decision. It was a veritable winter wonderland outside; why not enjoy it? Pulling on a pair of wool socks two sizes too big, she made her way to the closet and pulled out the smallest pair of boots she could find. Stuffing the toes with more socks, she bundled up in borrowed parka, mittens, hat, and scarf and went out to play in the snow.

The weather was not too terribly cold, the falling snow taking the worst of the bite out of the air. She tromped around a bit, making snow angels and enjoying the freedom of solitude. A quick test with a snowball proved it to be excellent packing snow, and she gleefully began rolling a large ball to make the base of a snowman behind the cabin.

She was quite ridiculously proud of the gentleman she created, towering even taller than she was. She had gone inside and found two large, pieces of green melon for eyes, a carrot nose, and then in a spirit of mischief grabbed green throw blanket from the closet and fashioned it into a cape. A quick scan of the surrounding trees was enough to provide her two relatively similar curving sticks, and she stuck them into his brow to make a pair of horns suitable for God's helm.

All in all, she thought her snow God was quite an accomplishment. It was with a happy feeling that she went back inside, determined to look through the kitchen and prove that she too could make a decent meal.

***

Loki was relatively pleased with himself and the state of affairs. Caroline had taken as well as could be expected to being transported with no advanced notice to a random place away from everything she knew. Yes, she had been in a state of shock or sleep for most of the time, and he had aided that sleep with a bit of magical suggestion to give her time to shake off the worst of the aftereffects, but he was reasonably certain he could rely on her to keep a calm while they figured out a plan of action.

He had passed a not terribly comfortable night on the sofa it was true, but it was far more restful than either the bench in his glass cell or whatever they would have given him at the raft, assuming he would even have been alive to see the night. There was time to work out the sleeping arrangements. A new, longer sofa could be obtained if necessary, but Loki had other thoughts on the situation.

Caroline had looked so inviting, snuggled under the comforter in his bed, hair like a living creature spread out on his pillow, that he had longed to slide in next to her and share her warmth. Briefly he had considered doing so. Alas, centuries of indoctrination on the rules of decorum from his adopted mother could not be so easily sloughed off. The woman was a guest in his home, or one of them, and he had rendered her deeply unconscious. He would not force his presence on her in such a state.

In any case, he thought now as he walked back to the cabin, leaving no footprints in the snow to show his progress, the game of the seduction could be a joy in and of itself. He would not deprive either one of them of that. The thought of slowly breaking down Caroline's resistance, breaking through her professional reserve and bringing out the woman underneath was enough to warm him in the falling snow and quicken pace.

There were a maze of footprints in the snow as he neared home, and for a moment Loki knew a jolt of fear at the thought that someone had found them so quickly. Fortunately, reason soon took over. There were no signs of approach, and only one set of boots had made the marks. It appeared that his lovely guest had woken up and decided fresh air was in order. That was fine, as long as she didn't wander too far afield. His subtle inquiries in the nearest town had confirmed that the cabin was still a site where no one ventured. They should be able to hide here for some time.

A smell of cooking met him as he entered. He made his way to the kitchen and was greeted by the beguiling sight of his previously buttoned up therapist dressed in a motley collection of his clothes, hair curling wildly around her head as she stirred a large pot on the stove. She was quietly singing something to herself, and seemed every bit at home as she cooked.

"Whatever that is, it smells divine," he said truthfully, setting down the bags he had been carrying onto the table.

Caroline shrieked and leapt back from the stove, spinning towards him. Red sauce splattered from her spoon around her, and her face contorted into a comically startled expression. Loki could not control the smug expression of amusement on his face as watched her breathing return to normal.

"Don't do that!" she said, glaring at him once she had calmed down.

"Oh, did I startled you?" he asked with a grin, stepping forward to wipe a blob of sauce from her face with his thumb and then popping it into his mouth. "How careless of me. This is delicious, whatever it is."

"Of course you did," she grumbled, refusing to be baited. "It will be ready in about ten minutes."

"Well then, I should wash up."

"Excellent. Maybe then you can tell me where you've been. And where we are. And what we are going to do."

"All that will require sustenance," he smiled, thinking that he had the answers for at least two of those questions, and a suggestion for the third that would take them at least until the morning.

"Well, go wash then. I'll set the table."

"Excellent."

He was about to go when his attention was caught by something outside the large window in the back door. Crossing the room, he got a closer look, mood darkening.

"What is that?" he demanded sharply.

"What? Oh, our sentry?" she laughed, joining him and opening him the door to better show him her creation. "I had some time on my hands today, since someone left without asking if I wanted to join."

"I see," he seethed, looking at the mockery of him fashioned from snow. "That's funny to you, is it?"

"Not funny, exactly," she replied, voice uncertain, "although the eyes to have a bit of a comical tilt to them now that I look again."

"You know, Dr. Thorpe, I would not have thought it of you," he growled, betrayal deep in his chest.

"Thought what?"

"You pressed me to open up, to share my feelings with you. My fears, my insecurities. And then you turn around and use them to mock me? Are you so cruel with all of your patients, or is this some way of expressing anger with me for our situation?"

"Loki what are you talking about? It's a snowman."

"Yes, I can see that. A Frost Giant, complete with horns. That is what you think of me, is it? That I am a monster?"

"Loki, no! It has nothing to do with that! I made it for fun, as we did when I was a child. The horns were just an afterthought, an homage if you will. I didn't realize it would upset you! I am sorry."

Drawing a deep breath, Loki's anger began to recede slightly. Caroline's face looked stricken, and it occurred to him that perhaps it was not meant as a reminder of his monstrous reality. It did seem to go against her character that she would pull such a vile prank on him, even if she was angry for her abduction.

"I apologize, Caroline. I saw a creature made of ice and snow fashioned to look like me and I... well..."

"You thought the worst. Given your history, I can understand why. But Loki, please believe me when I tell you that I would never do something like that to you on purpose! Here on Earth children often build snowmen for fun. When I was outside today, surrounded by all of the new snow, I decided to relive my childhood and do so again. Had I known it would hurt you I would have made a dog or a wolf instead! Maybe a snow leopard. Something less triggering. Please believe me."

She had come towards him, hands going to rest upon his chest. Her upturned eyes plead with him, nothing but honesty and regret shining in their depths.

"Of course I believe you," he said, realizing that he was being an ass. "I over reacted. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she told him.

Her arms went to his shoulders, and without thinking he drew her to him. Caroline pressed his face against his chest and he leaned down to bury his in her hair. She smelled of his shampoo now, and while he missed the strawberries, a fierce wave of ownership swept through him at having her bathed in his scent. His arms tightened and he felt her body mold to his, small but well fitted in his embrace. Her pulse was racing, he could feel it pounding along him. The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him, he drew back slightly.

The high-pitched timer on the stove blared out, beyond loud in the silence their embrace had created. Caroline's head snapped up and she quickly pulled away, putting space between them in a quick, determined manner as she turned back to the stove.

"Dinner is ready," she said unnecessarily in an overly cheery voice. "Go wash your hands, and we can eat. I hope you like Italian."

Loki nodded absently and left to do as she instructed. He did, as it happened, like Italian. He had discovered that in his time on Midgard. But what he suddenly found himself hungry for, ravenous in fact, was something entirely different.

#Loki #Loki/OFC #Loki Fan Fic #Post Avengers #Loki in Therapy #Loki needs a hug #Loki GETS a hug!!#Romance #Slow Burn #past trauma #snow #mentions of past abuse #patient/doctor relationship #let's look at Loki's trauma #for real though #on the run #hiding out

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bellsofblueficlets · 1 year

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Pieces Remain

It was hard, knowing what to do with himself. Logically he knew that routine could help keep his mind off of what was currently trying to tear it apart.

Rent had always been the one to set their routine though, he'd just worked with it, or sometimes around it. Every part of it revolved around what Rent was doing, what he wanted, when he was coming home, how to keep him from getting upset, or keep him from noticing when-

But now Rent was gone.

He was just... gone.

It didn't matter though. He just had to keep busy...

There wasn't much food left, that was another problem, but he wasn't ready to face the world outside that door, so for now raisins, and the other scraps that remained, would do. Until he was ready.

He didn't want to admit that part of him wasn't willing to leave their his nest. Just in case he still came back. He wouldn't.

The entirety of the first day- or the second, since the first day he'd just crawled back into bed and stayed there- was spent cleaning. The entire nest, starting with their bedroom, moving on to their living area, then the kitchen...

He washed every plate, every pan, beat the small rug, washed their sheets- didn't wash Rent's things, didn't touch them, he didn't like the little science sans to touch them- then moved on the scrubbing the floors, the walls, the water tank, the bathing bowl, the fire barrel.

His fingertips grew raw, and his spine ached, and he had to keep stopping to rub the tears from his eyes, and sob. But that was all he'd do, he'd cry, pull himself together again, and keep going.

Their nest had to be nice if Rent came home. Then he wouldn't be mad anymore. Then everything would be okay.

...Everything. Would be okay.

That night, he barely made it into bed before he fell asleep. He was too exhausted to heal his msny sore joints, or the raw bits of his hands- so if course come morning, they were still there, but now his magic was even lower. He'd woken more tired than he'd gone to bed.

In his soul, he knew this feeling. He remembered it.

He'd left the storage room for last. Hadn't wanted to see that familiar crack half hidden in the back, now empty of all his precious stolen treasures. That first day, he'd carefully set aside everything that Rent had kept back there that had made no sense to him. Packed it, ordered it, and stacked it. In other piles he placed things that still seemed useful.

Again that night, he crawled into bed, unwashed, sore, and exhausted. His wounds were in even worse shape than before. For the first time that night, he didn't cry himself to sleep. He was too tired. Even too tired to sleep, he laid there some four hours before blessed unconscious came.

The magic food helped with keeping his injuries from growing dangerous, and festering. Stars knew he wasn't doing anything to help them.

He finished the room that day, along with the last of the food, but this time he didn't crawl back into bed when he was done. He didn't, want to go back to that bed. His and Rent's.

No. Just his.

...He wasn't coming back.

...

He... wasn't coming back.

That night, he dragged the rug into the bathing bowl, and slept there, his coarse little blanket no longer nearly enough to keep out the cold.

----

He was too stiff when he woke up. His eyes felt gritty with dried magic, he felt exhausted and weak. He needed a bath, clean clothes, treatment for his wounds...

Food.

...All, things that required more than he had to give.

Still he climbed out of the tub, slipping, and hitting his knee with a crack, and a whimper of pain. Broken, broken, he was dead, he was- He forced himself to look, and paused in confusion to see the new crack in the bathing bowl. When he'd fallen, he must have grabbed for it, making it tip...

He swallowed hard, seeing where it had caught, falling again to hit the tiles he'd proudly shoved into place some months before, showing Rent that now the tub was held fastly in place...

If those hadn't been there, he might have upended the entire thing on his head. It could have-

He grabs for the garbage can, but doesn't make it. His mind is spinnjng with hunger, pain, exhaustion, nausea, and grief. Rent was going to be angry, came the unbidden thought, when he saw the crack.

...Rent couldn't be angry anymore, he reflects dully, trembling now as he turns back to stare at the little cracks.

For the first, he feels some sick relief, that he wouldn't see Rent again. Wouldn't have to explain that. And immediately, he's suffused in guilt, and shame.

Shakier than he'd been the day before, or the day before that, he pushes to his feet just the same. The storage room is almost clean, he just has a little more.

He notices, in some absent part of his mind as he walks through the living room, that the ticking has stopped. He pauses, for all of moment, then keeps going. He'll fix it later. First the storeroom.

Everything is harder than it should be, everything is labored, and pained. He's tired, soul deep, but he keeps going. It's only when he sees that crack in the concrete, finally exposed, instead of hidden away, that he stops. Memories come flooding back, of tightly grasped papers. The giddy excitement of a new treasure. The way his soul raced, and the stolen moments pouring over the precious, forbidden things...

Almost against his will, he's drawn to it. He's almost shaking as he reaches the crack, kneeling down beside it, and reaches his arm inside.

Nothing, of course. Rent wouldn't have left anything. He would have destroyed it all.

For the first time, grief at the loss, turned to despair, finally sparks anger inside him. Why dud Rent have to take this too? Why this? Now his mate was gone, gone, and he was alone, and he-

-and the last thing he'd done, had been destroy his treasures.

...

He didn't even have his treasures. He didn't have anything.

...No. Taking a deep breath, the little science sans looked at the crack again. It was so small, sometimes it had been all he could do to reach inside, far enough to make one more note fit.

He was so small.

He reaches into the hole again. Nothing. Nothing. He grits his teeth, and braces against the floor, and stretches his arm just as far into the tight, dark space as it-

He froze. There was something there. Something just barely, barely brushing his fingertips, something unmistakably paper.

A slow exhale, and then he drew his arm back out of the hole. There was something left. Something.

Rent would want him to leave it. Cover it back up and forget it was there. Or pull it out and destroy it.

...Rent wasn't here anymore.

He bit his lip, or the equivalent, nervously, but after a moment he made his choice, reaching his arm back into the crevice, until his shoulder pressed hard against the crack. Something scraped his arm, hard, in the darkness, and he winced. It felt like something wet trickled down his forearm. He just gritted his teeth, and kept trying-

He almost managed to close the tips of two fingers around it- thought he had, feeling a moment of excitement- but the slightest attempt to pull left it slip through his grasp.

Frustration coursed through him as he pulled his arm free again, this time with a definite scrape of broken concrete against bone. He didn't even wince, just glaring at the crack.

Stupid. He was being stupid, just like Re- He shoved the thought away, suddenly not wanting to think about his mate, not right now.

His former mate.

...He needed a tool. But what? A metal tool would risk tearing it. Any wooden tool slender enough to fit, would snap too easily. Honestly, anything he managed to hook onto a corner with-

Huh. He tilts his head, a thought occurring to him. Maybe? Don't? Then?

Pushing to his feet, he falters only long enough to be surprised when he wobbles on them, then grimaces, and heads for the stack of 'useless things,' digging through it hntil he found what he was looking for, a spent pen, long since used up and empty.

Perfect. Finding a spot to brace it, he starts unscrewing it's head, startling as this causes the spring inside to shove the metal nib upwards. Quickly regaining his composure though, he pulls it free, bending the now empty tube of former ink between two hands to test it's flexibility. He grinned when it sprang back easily, dropping it by the crack, and flat out running for the bathroom. There were some medical supplies there, not that he'd more than briefly debating using them over the past few days.

A bandaid is pulling a box. A wrapper torn open. He has to find a razor blade to carefully cut a section of sticky away, and his hands never once stop shaking. He wraps it carefully around the end of the Ink tube, sticky side out, careful not to leave the thing much wider than it had already been.

Then back to the crack, and the slow, methodical task of trying to work the bit of paper free with his new 'tool.' It was a thin, uneven crack, and several times it got caught, but it didn't break. Twice he had to the replace the bit of sticky as it gathered too much dust and crud to stay adhesive- by the third time he wound it in place, his hands weren't shaking anymore.

He couldn't see what he was doing, not really. Slowly, methodically, he worked the flexible plastic tube into the crack, nudged around with it, then pulled it free. He did this again, and again.

It's almost an hour later before he finally catches that faint glimpse of white. When it catches, and the tool falls free, he simply drops it in favor of using his hands again.

...And it's in his hands. A fragment of paper. A torn piece. But unmistakably once of his treasures. His hands are shaking as he sits there on the floor, laying the bit if paper down, and unfolding it slowly.

Just a fragment, but he recognized the words, marred now by torn paper, and ground in dirt. 'The Academic Medic,' it had once read, in bold letters across the top. Only four if those letters remained now, the first and last words torn away completely, abd of what remained, both the first, and the last three gone as well.

He smoothed the paper, just the same, and he read. Words he knew. Words he loved.

...Words he should probably listen to, he realized, finally looking at the raw wounds on his hands, and the scrapes now on both arms. He looked back at the paper.

Rent would want t him to burn it.

Rent wasn't here.

Rent wasn't coming home.

He made his decision, carrying the piece of note from the storage room. Carefully, he dread it out in the table, smoothing it neat, and looking at it with a smile, before heading to the bathroom to treat his wounds. His healing magic had never been strong, but he had antiseptic, he had bandages, and he had mostly clean water- the antiseptic would help with the mostly part.

It's nearly half an hour before he comes back out, arms and fingers bandaged somewhat sloppily, but with great care. He'll need to go get some food soon, but first...

The little science sans pulls a chair up to the table, and smooths out the paper again. The bold letters at the top draw his gaze again, briefly. C-A-D-E.

Huh.

Again, the flicker of a smile, before he turns his attention back to the rest of the note. The little science sans begins to read it again, his soul filling with just as much excitement as it had the very first time...

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#cold #mentions of past abuse #hunger #injury #grief #loss #healing #hope

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