halle🕯️

the drenched mud squelched noisily beneath your feet as you made your way to the changing rooms. you knew that mattheo would still have the boys on the field even after the crowds departed, reflecting and overanalyzing every minuscule thing that went wrong. even though you weren’t the biggest fan of goyle, your heart went out to him right about now.

leaning against the splintered wood of the locker room, you waited patiently under the cover, watching as the last light drops of rain drizzled out until all that was left was an earthy smell and a dampness to the air. the last of the lingering students made their way back to the castle, their chatter and laughs echoing behind them until all that was left was a still silence.

only then did the boys emerge from the field in long, angry strides, drenched with clenched jaws and a hardness to their eyes that hadn’t been there earlier. you stood straighter, noticing how mattheo, theo, enzo, draco, and blaise were grouped together at the front, the rest of the team and their reserves sulking behind them. mattheo turned slightly to say something to goyle, his fist flexing at his side, and you saw the first few letters of the word CAPTAIN displayed across his green back.

they made their way closer, still lost in tense conversation until enzo and you met gazes. he stilled for a brief moment as you gave him a sheepish smile and small wave, and then softened and nudged mattheo’s shoulder with his own, head tilting in your direction. mattheo paused whatever he was saying, following enzo’s line of vision until his eyes met yours.

and then, for the first time since he’d left you early in the morning, he felt his shoulders begin to loosen and his fists begin to relax, muscles losing their tension at the mere sight of you. his throat worked as he muttered something to theo, who nodded and repeated it louder. the rest of the team dispersed then, walking past you like beaten dogs into the locker room with their eyes on their feet.

the boys made their way over to you, appearing calmer than they had a moment ago. “hi guys.” you greeted, gentle, and mattheo’s arms came to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him with a deep sigh and resting his head on your shoulder, not caring of the audience watching. the boys rolled their eyes, used to his mindless pda, and offered you a mixture of hellos.

“bad game?”

a series of groans and comments rang out. you smiled, straining your ears to listen to their individual comments.

“fucking weasley.” draco, obviously.

“i almost killed goyle, puff, i swear.” theo.

“complete waste of time.” blaise.

“hooch acted like we were invisible.” enzo.

and of course, mattheo, who tightened his grip on you and mumbled bitterly into your skin, “‘t was a shit show.”

“okay then.” it came out as a light laugh, and you watched as the boys got amped up again and chatted vehemently, save for theo who just began cursing in italian. your hand came up absentmindedly to tangle in mattheo’s soaked curls as you listened. he melted into you like his body was made out of jello, and you giggled.

it continued on like that for a couple of minutes, you chiming in with the occasional comment when one of them would look to you for your take, making your heart warm inside of your chest. you entertained them until you finally couldn’t watch another one of them pretend not to shiver at the cold seeping into their bones. only then did you pull away from mattheo, who looked at you in betrayal, and order them to go shower and warm up.

despite the couple of complaints on how they weren’t children, they listened because it was you and you were in mom mode and they all were pretty cold. they all made their way into the changing rooms, drenched and looking slightly pitiable, all but mattheo.

“you’re freezing, matty.” you frowned, rubbing your palm up and down where it rested on his icy arm. “just a minute more, okay?” he asked, somehow entangled with you again, his dark eyes trained on yours. you sighed, and a small okay parted from your lips despite yourself, your body turning pliant against his.

your hand came up unconsciously to brush away a stray curl that had fallen into his face, your lip twitching at the way mattheo closed his eyes and rested his face into your palm, exhaling and planting a kiss on the inside of it.

“needed this.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” it was a whispered brush against your skin, like a branding that you’d feel for hours after the moment had passed.

“i’m not going anywhere.”

after being practically being glued together all year, the sudden absence of him was enough to make you insane. you understood why you couldn’t see him over the summer with the imminent danger of his father and all, so you had to settle for only communicating in discreet letters once a week or so. still, everytime somebody said an especially funny joke or told a story you knew mattheo would love, you found yourself looking to thin air for a reaction that would never come.

many nights you would lay in bed, staring at your ceiling, wondering what mattheo was doing in that moment— wondering what he would do when you saw each other again. you didn’t expect this.

“fuckin hell,” he groaned against your neck, his lips trailing up and down and leaving open mouthed kisses wherever his tongue traced. a whimper escaped you as your hands tightened in his curls, pulling and pushing at the same time. he came back up to meet you, swallowing your sounds with his lips so thoroughly that you didn’t even notice he’d reached his hand behind you to unclasp your bra until he pulled away to lavish the newly exposed skin, spewing words like a man possessed.

“missed you so much, pretty.”

“torture without you.”

“fuck, thought about doing this so many times.”

you tried to keep up, but his mouth was running too fast and doing too many sinful things and all you could do was lie there and take it. you reached for his hand, needing something to keep you stable, to keep you here on this plane while desire was so intent on dragging you into unknown depths. his fingers curled around yours and he looked up at you with a look you’d never seen so clearly— pupils blown wide with worship and lust, cheeks flushed, curls frazzled. and with that look, that look hell bent on destroying you, he slowly lowered his face to your wrist and left the softest yet somehow most destructive kiss on the inside of it, inhaling deeply as he did.

yeah. he was definitely trying to destroy you, you thought as he tugged your panties down and your fingers fumbled to undo his belt. “need you, matty. please.” you’d like to say that it didn’t come out as a pathetic little plea, but you were never a fan of lying. “i know, baby. but my girl can’t take it yet, ‘s been too long.” and with that, his mouth met your core, and any hope of coherent thoughts was gone.

it was filthy, the way his tongue split your folds, lips slick with spit and your arousal as he sucked and nipped and traced anywhere it landed. you didn’t register the way your thighs tightened around him, trying to trap him between your legs as if he’d rather be anyplace else. didn’t register the way your hips bucked up into him as he let out a low rumble, or the loud cry that left your lips. no, the only thing you were aware of was his mouth on your cunt and his hands digging into your plush thighs.

you felt the press of his fingers coming to find your entrance sloppily, whining when he pushed two in torturously slow, the stretch stinging in the most satisfying of ways. “that’s it, honey. doing so good.” the words were muffled against you, and the vibrations of his voice, deep with thirst, had your nails biting into his shoulders. that deadly mix, the mix of his fingers pumping lewdly against your gummy walls and his tongue swirling circles around your clit, had you teetering on the edge within moments.

“matty-"

“i know, puff. give it to me, yeah?”

and then you were coming, waves of ecstasy rushing over you like a tidal wave as you instinctively tried to buck away from mattheo, legs trembling. he tutted and tightened his grip around your thighs, tugging you back onto his face with no effort. and if you let out a small yelp at the way his lips brushed over your sensitive core, then nobody would blame you.

he rubbed soothing little circles on your hips through the quivers, murmuring deliciously crude words against your skin that had it heating up once more. he pulled away after a moment, laughing lowly at the huff you released upon his departure. your mouth snapped shut real quick, though, as he pulled his unclasped belt through the loops in a swift motion, watching you with dark eyes.

his slacks fell carelessly to the floor in the growing pile on discarded clothes, and then his boxers, and suddenly he was just as bare as you, sculpted and defined and so hard it looked like it hurt. he dragged you closer to him as if you weighed nothing, biceps bulging with the movement. your eyes tracked it, and you realized with abrupt fascination that your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing.

the way he was looking at you, so heated and focused, had you shuffling beneath his gaze, eyes darting to find easy places to look. his palm tangled in your hair, pulling carefully so your stare met his.

“okay?”

you softened, nodding.

“words, puff.”

“i’m okay.”

he leaned forward, breathing in deep as he laid a kiss in your hair. “good girl.” and then he was pressing into you, warm and rigid and so unbelievably deep that you couldn’t quite understand how he wasn’t in your stomach. you could feel him everywhere, in every ridge and crevice of your being, stretching you so thoroughly so that you end would up molded, unable to match anyone but him.

“fuck, i know, baby. let me in, yeah? you can do it.” the words were choked, as if every cent of his willpower was going into not bullying your cunt open with a single thrust. just when you thought you might not be able to do it— that there simply wasn’t enough room for him in your body— something gave way and he was buried to the hilt, filling you until you could feel the head of his cock nudging your cervix.

“shit. there you go, honey- thank you.” it was nothing more than an animalistic groan, delivered panting into your ear and making goosebumps race all over your skin. you might’ve laughed, might’ve supplied a teasing you’re welcome, if you were able to relay anything more than breathy little moans and whines and the occasional, “oh, god.”

he moved slowly, testing the waters and watching closely for your reaction, pleased with the way your eyebrows scrunched together and your mouth parted in a silent cry.

“knew you could do it. you’re just made for me, aren’t you?”

“mffg.”

the chuckle he released was mocking, delivered with a sharp thrust that left you shoving your head into his chest with a mewl, gripping at his back for support. “my poor girl. just needed me to come back and make a dumb little mess of you, huh?” as he spoke, his palm smoothed your hair lightly, his cock moving to push against that one spot that had you biting down on his bicep with a moan. he hissed, trying not to come then and there as he witnessed you pull back, eyes all foggy and and blown wide as you looked down at where your teeth marks lay in his skin.

you opened your mouth, maybe to apologize, but he’d never know because he pushed you back until you were laying flat and pliant beneath him and started shoving in and out of your soaked cunt like a man turned feral, mesmerized by the way you clenched down on him and clawed helplessly at the sheets.

“soaking me, sweetheart. such a pretty little mess. fuck, missed this so much. she missed me too, didn’t she?”

“yes, matty, shit—please.”

you didn’t know what you were asking for, all you knew was that you would say yes to anything he asked so long as he kept pounding into you the way he was now, unrelenting and as desperate for you as you were for him. you could feel your gut tightening, the way the heat spread throughout your entire body like a singular nerve about to set on fire. mattheo could feel it, too, clearly, by the low groan that came from his chest.

he grabbed your hand, then, practically encompassing it in his own much larger one, and brought it down onto your lower stomach. “feel that, puff? feel how deep i am?” the whimper that left you was pure sin as he pressed down your hand, suffocating himself in between you with a curse. you felt salty tears well up in your eyes despite yourself, wrecked and overwhelmed with pleasure in the most wonderful of ways. mattheo saw instantly, softening.

“crying, sweet girl?” he wiped away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, thrusts not slowing. he knew what you needed, and stopping most definitely wasn’t that.

“mhm. ‘ts good.” you mumbled, sniffling as you felt your release approaching. mattheo pulled you closer, leaving a kiss on your temple and rubbing you soothingly.

“i know. come for me, baby.”

and you did, because you were nothing if not a great listener. surges of pleasure hit you as you sank into his arms, whining and shaking and scratching at his skin. mattheo followed after a moment with a broken groan and a low swear, spurts of warmth coating your walls as he held himself above you with trembling arms so as not to crush you.

you laid there within one another, sweating and panting, limbs entangled, chests pressed together as you came down. you could feel his heartbeat fluttering rapidly against your own, matching it in a beat so familiar. your eyes met his, tender and careful, and his lip quirked up.

“hi.”

you let out giggle. “hi.”

his lips met your neck, not arousing, just a steady press against the marks he’d left there, loving and meticulous. and then he was raising himself, pulling out of you cautiously and frowning at your slight wince, muttering a small, “sorry, pretty. did so good.” and then a soft, “be right back.”

mattheo. right. you were looking for mattheo.

he had promised he would come tonight, but his last quidditch practice didn’t end until… you looked down at your muggle watch, squinting harshly. twenty minutes ago. you frowned, scanning the room once more until giving up and plopping down on a random set of stairs leading up to some dormitories with a disappointed huff. you leaned your head against the stone wall next to you, the coolness of it feeling like a breath of fresh air against your oncoming migraine. definitely shouldn’t have had those last two drinks.

“puff?”

your whole body went alert at the word, pulling back from the wall and trying not to get queasy from the wave of dizziness that hit you. you waited for your eyes to focus, and then… “theo!” you realized, relieved, and stood up much too quickly for your drunk body to handle. “woah, easy now.” his hands came to your shoulders to steady you, but you weren’t paying attention, too busy connecting the dots in the haziness of your mind. mattheo was at quidditch practice. theo also had quidditch practice. if theo was here, shouldn’t mattheo be here?

“he’s coming, just wanted to shower first.” theo explained in a comforting drawl, and you understood that you must’ve said that aloud. you looked him over, his slightly flushed complexion and sweaty hair, and wrinkled your nose.

“you need a shower, too.”

“oi! i’m only here to look after you until mattheo’s done. then i’m out.” you laughed as he leaned over and ruffled your hair, teasing, and mumbled a small sorry under your breath, reaching up to smooth what he’d just tousled. theo sat down on the stairs, sprawling back lazily and removing a cigarette from his pocket, and then a lighter. you watched him for a moment in drunken fascination as he lit it and took a slow drag, and then decided to sit down next to him.

it was silent for a moment, as silent as it can be in a party full of people, and then you reached towards him with an open hand, asking for a try. theo let out a low laugh, the kind that vibrates through your body, and shook his head fervently.

“absolutely not. mattheo would kill me.” his accent slipped through heavily on the words as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. you could feel a pout come to your lips as you side-eyed him. he tried not to look at you. he failed. let out a deep, inconvenienced sigh and passed you the cigarette. you let out a tiny cheer as you took it from him, smiling wildly.

“don’t tell mattheo or i’m dead, puff.” you nodded rapidly and brought it to your lips, only to realize you didn’t really know what to do. you looked over at him, eyes conveying helplessness, and he shook his head with a fond smirk. “inhale slowly. a small amount, or you’ll cough your lungs out. then hold and exhale.” you did as instructed, letting a small amount into your lungs and letting it sit for a moment before releasing out a small cloud of smoke.

you passed it back to him, brows furrowed at the taste, considering before making up your mind. “i don’t get the hype.” you stated plainly after a moment. a loud laugh burst out of him, and you just stared at him in foggy confusion. what was funny?

his laughter died down, and the next few minutes you spent together in a calm peace. you, trying not to fall asleep, and him, smoking his cigarette and pretending not to be playing eye-tag with a ravenclaw you recognized from your herbology class. “you should go talk to her.” you mumbled, eyes drooping. “no way. not until mattheo comes-”

“i’m here.” came from your left, and your gaze quickly snapped up to find the voice that was oh so familiar. your eyes met his, soft in the way they were just for you, and you felt your whole being awaken.

“matty!” you exclaimed happily, stumbling up quickly with a large smile. “and that’s my que.” theo announced, his ‘i’m about to get laid’ smirk already snapping into place as he left a loud, obnoxious kiss on the top of your head and bounded off to find that ravenclaw.

you couldn’t care less as mattheo reached you, his hands coming to your waist to stop the world from spinning. “hey, puff. miss me?” the words were almost as gentle as the circles he was rubbing into your skin where his hands lay. you nodded swiftly, eyes wide.

“totally. this party sucks.” you said, earnest, and he let out a low laugh, the sound sending goosebumps up your arms as you leaned further into him. “that so, baby?” you let out a small hum of agreement, your eyes practically fighting to stay open now that you were with him. he noticed. he always did.

“you wanna leave?” the question was quiet, whispered into your hair and meant just for you. you thought, then nodded. “okay.” he pulled away, and you resisted the urge to whine at the sudden lack of warmth. he leaned down and grabbed your clutch— which you didn’t even remember bringing with you or leaving on the stairs so you were really glad he spotted it— and then held out his hand for you to take.

your palm met his, fingers overlapping and giving a small squeeze as he led you through the crowd of drunken bodies swaying to a song that you didn’t even like. just when you thought if one more sweaty person touches you you might vomit all over the floor, you were free, and the emptiness and chilliness of the hall felt like pure bliss.

you took a deep breath and tried not to sway where you stood. mattheo watched with a fond smile. “nauseous?” you thought on it. “no. ‘m okay now.” his hand clenched yours comfortingly. “good. how much did you have to drink, honey?” you frowned at him as you followed him to the slytherin dorms, recounting tonight’s events. “a couple. i’m not drunk, though.” you added on quickly, squinting at him suspiciously as though he would be wrong to think you are.

his laugh was quiet in the eerie halls. a painting hissed from somewhere behind you, and you turned to stick your tongue out at it. “course not, puff. i’d never think you were.” you nodded, proud and one hundred percent not picking up on the lie.

you blinked, and suddenly you were in his familiar dorm and mattheo was leaning down in front of you, unbuckling the straps of your heels ever so carefully and helping you step out of them, holding in his laughter at the way you stumbled slightly and gripped carefully on his shoulder for support. he placed a featherlight kiss on your calf and you giggled at the ticklish sensation as he rose to meet you, placing a kiss on your lips instead.

it was slow and soft and perfect— until he pulled away with a deep frown. “were you smoking?” your eyes went wide and deer-like, remembering theo didn’t want you to tell. “no…?” it wasn’t meant to come out as a question, yet it had. mattheo’s eyes narrowed and he let out a curse, and you pretended not to hear the way he muttered theo’s name in knowing, opting to clumsily maneuver yourself out of your confining dress.

you could feel his stare boring into the side of your face as you tossed out a cotton swab that had been stained pink. you told yourself not to look, not to meet his gaze, but you did anyways. you always did. you thought he’d look away upon being caught. he didn’t. a flush rose to your cheeks which only made you frown harder.

“stop looking at me like that.” the words sounded like they were supposed to have some sort of bite behind them, but they didn’t. they never quite could with him. “okay.” his agreement was soft, even as his lip twitched. he kept looking. you looked up from his hand, now disinfected, with exasperation.

“mattheo.” an edge of annoyance coated the word, and the vibrations of his gentle chuckle made your heart rattle wildly against your ribcage.

“what, baby?”

“don’t call me baby, i’m mad at you.”

“okay.” there was no argument behind it, just gentle understanding. he looked away then, not because you’d told him to— he knew you hadn’t meant it— but because the effort it took not to reach out and tuck that piece of hair behind your ear, the same one that you always blew out of your face in frustration when you were walking quickly, was mounting unbearably high.

you should’ve dropped his hand, gotten up, and left. you didn’t. you reached over, grabbed the roll of gauze, and began to make a wrapping of it around the knuckles that had been split open.

“why’d you do it?” the question slipped out, hesitant, like you might not want to know the answer, and he froze. you never asked. just looked at him, shook your head, and dragged him to your dorm.

“you know why.” came after a moment, his adam’s apple bobbing as if his throat was constricting. “do i?” sure, you had an idea. the whispers of mclaggen’s name had quickly traveled through the halls, muttered with distaste by all the girls. you could only assume he’d let a comment or two slip after your rejection— boys like him always had a fragile ego— but you wanted to hear what mattheo would say.

“yeah, you do.” it was whispered like a promise, quiet and heavy, and you swallowed. bit down on the inside of your cheek. cut off the remaining gauze and tied it into a tight knot, then tucked it securely into the wrap.

you stood up, cleaning the supplies off the counter, not facing him. “you can’t just fight someone every time you don’t like what they say.” there was agitation woven into the syllables, worry laden in the undetectable pauses between words. worry that one day he’d pick a fight he couldn’t win, and you’d be watching madam pomfrey heal him instead. he heard it.

strong arms wrapped themselves around your torso, pulling you against him until your back was flush against his chest, his chin laying on the top of your head. you let out a sigh, and despite yourself, your muscles loosened back into him, going pliant at the warmth radiating off of him.

“hey, i’m okay, yeah? i’m right here.” he laid a kiss at the junction between your shoulder and neck. a shiver ran through you. you turned in his hold, facing him. “you don’t get it. what about next time? or the time after that? this isn’t- it isn’t sustainable.”

he let out a scoff, hands tightening where they sat on your waist. “what, so i’m just supposed to let him go around saying that shit about you?”

“yes.”

he shook his head and let out a disbelieving laugh.

“mattheo. you have to learn how to solve problems without using your fists.”

“he was asking for it.”

“i don’t care!”

that stopped him short. you never raised your voice. “can’t you see that i don’t want this? this wasn’t ‘defending my honor’ or whatever you thought it was doing. this was taking one insignificant issue and turning it into five more.” he looked down at you, at the way your fists were curled desperately into his t-shirt, at the way your eyes were pleading up at him, and the fight immediately drained out of him.

“i worry about you, mattheo. please.” you didnt realize your eyes were welling up until mattheo was softening all over, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away the salty tears as they dropped.

it had no face, just smooth glass, and inside of its torso you could faintly see a pulsing purple light every couple of seconds, like it was was trapped and looking for a way out. you and the doctor met eyes, and with a smile you were off. his job: find out whatever the hell that thing was and how to stop it. your job? help bystanders wherever you can and try to make sense of the doctor’s rambles enough so that you can make his typically overly complicated solution a lot simpler.

it would happen quite frequently. the doctor would go on a rant about how there was an extremely complex solution that was somehow unattainable, pulling at his hair in stress, and then you come in, tilt your head at him and say, “well… couldn’t we just do so and so?” and he would stare at you dead in the eyes for a second before he would light up, grab your face, smack a kiss onto your forehead and yell, “you’re a genius!”

that was your job. the doctor was so smart that sometimes he failed to see the simple things, that and he could easily get revved up, which is where he needed you to calm down. you and him assessed the situation until he had a vague idea what was going on and was leading you frantically by the wrist toward an answer.

in that time however, your eyes locked with those of a little boy with a bloody gash across his cheek, cowering underneath an abandoned stall. your feet halted before your brain could process the request, and your hand slipped from the doctors. he looked back to you, eyes inquisitive and running all around you 10 miles a minute. his eyes caught on the boy and darted back to you. the being was slightly closer to him now, and his tiny face was scrunched up, hands together in what seemed to be a prayer.

“angel…”

“i have to. you have this— use that brain of yours and save us, yeah? i’ll help as many of them as i can.”

the doctor’s brows knitted together, downturned with his forehead scrunched as it always did when worried. that paired with his dark, wide and scanning eyes made him resemble a sad puppy. “be careful.” it was said in his firm voice, the one he pulled out when people were in danger and he was directing them, or when he was addressing a being with an aggressive streak. a sharp nod and then you were running to the boy, and he was running to do whatever it is he does.

after jumping over fallen bodies and rubble, you were across the square with the child, crouching behind a fallen booth to remain unnoticed, hands twitching with adrenaline. screams sounded faintly behind you, but it sounded almost underwater as you addressed the adolescent. you weren’t even sure if the sounds were still from the alien. usually in terrified mobs like this, people began stomping and shoving each other in a self-defensive haze where all they could think was escape. quick.

“hey, bud. fancy getting out of here?” the boy’s head jerked up and down in a frenzied movement, and after that it all gets a bit blurry. you can somewhat recall giving him instructions, leading him and a couple of others to an unharmed building out of the direct battle, and then…

ah, yes. you got blasted across the pavement by the glass thing with a device it seemed oh-so-fond of. a dull thwack echoed within your skull, ears ringing, vision blurred. you had laid there for a moment, blinking futilely to clear your vision, and had then vomited all over the grass upon sitting up. not your best look, i’ll admit. the giant glass-man stomped over to you, laying breathlessly on the floor heaving, and then it stopped. you remember thinking the doctor as black crept in and out from the sides of your sight.

you decided to lay back down, on the red-stained grass now instead of the harsh pavement, trusting him to take care of it. the sky was spinning, you remember thunking funnily. in what could of been seconds or hours, the doctor defeated whatever it was and was now standing over you, saying your name over and over.

“hi.” you giggled, trying to stay awake for him. when you focused, you noticed he looked so worried you couldn’t help but frown. “you look sad. ‘m okay, really. just want ‘a lie down.” your words were slurred, you recognized briefly. that wasn’t great.

“darling, where does it hurt?” his hands were running up and down your sides, eyes darting all over you, you realized. “i ‘dunno, i feel fine. think i hit my head though, and threw up over there-” your head tilted to the side with a sloppy movement, “which wasn’t too fun.” you trailed off in a genuine laugh. the doctor swore under his breath, and then it seemed like you blinked and you were in his arms, being carried through the tardis doors.

“eyes on me, love. you’re doing so good, just stay awake, mhm?” you giggled, nodding with half-open eyes and mumbling something involving the word hot. you were clearly delirious, the doctor noted, and it seemed like both of his hearts were malfunctioning in his chest, his lungs tight like they couldn’t get a full breath of air in. usually, you were the one to calm him down when things got bad with a gentle, reassuring smile and your hand laid on his arm, manicured nails all done up and pretty, something he would tease you for.

now your hand laid limp on his chest as he carried you through the ships hull to his room. he laid you as gently as possible on his bed, smoothing your hair back from your face in a soft movement, and got to work. he wasn’t named the doctor for no reason, mind you. you watched for as long as you possibly could, but then the pain started to bite at the back of your head and various places over your body where you were sure scrapes littered.

“doctor?” you whispered.

his gaze bounced to you instantly, away from whatever medical contraption he was working on, face pulled tight and troubled. “what is it, angel?”

“hurts.”

he looked somewhat… devastated at that.

“i know, darling. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i should’ve been there, but i’m going to fix it, okay? i’m going to fix you. trust me.”

“always.” you muttered, eyes shutting despite yourself. you heard him panic slightly, pleading with you to stay awake, but you were bone-tired, and for once, you couldn’t listen to the doctor.

the next time you awoke, there was a dull aching all over your body. you looked over to find the doctor slumped asleep in his desk chair beside the bed, glasses askew on his face that was laid against his palm. his hair was tousled as though he’d run his hands through it a million times, and his desk a mess of chemistry equations, it looked like.

you tried to sit up, in vain, wincing as your muscles and bones protested. the slight shuffling of sheets alerted the doctor, who jolted upright in his chair. his bloodshot eyes met yours, and you gave him a sheepish smile that pretty much said “sorry i almost died”!

he quickly adjusted his crooked lenses so he could see you, leaning forward and grasping your hand in his. “hi.” you croaked, voice hoarse from lack of usage. he wordlessly passed you a glass of water from the nightstand, which you gulped greedily before setting it down and wiping your mouth. the doctor was still examining you, catching every minuscule reaction, every twitch, every wince.

“how long was i, um, out?”

it was silent for a moment, and then, “a day.” you nodded, and then it was silent again. you made a movement, your hand raising to touch the back of your head, and the doctor’s hand tightened around your other. “you’ve got a nasty bump. nothing catostrophic, i checked. many times, a bit obsessively if i’m being honest. purely medical reasons, obviously.” you smiled at him, relieved to hear him speak in his rambles that were just so him.

“obviously.” you replied, lips quirking. his mouth opened. closed. opened again. and then, “do you- well… how are you feeling?” you considered and brought your shoulders up and down. “better. a little achy, but okay.” the doctor’s eyes buried into yours, his head jerked in a firm nod. “right.”

silence. again. how does one converse normally after almost dying? the doctor’s throat cleared, pulling your attention away from the stray strands of fabric you were pulling at from your blanket and to his face. “i thought-” his voice shook, and he coughed, something he would pretend to do to compose himself whenever his feelings were too large for his two hearts.

“nevermind. you’re awake, that’s what matters.”

“doctor…”

your voice was soft and understanding, an invitation. he looked at you, eyes desperate.

“don’t.”

it was his faux stern voice, the one he would use when you were encroaching on a delicate subject, one that was raw and jagged in his mind. you would push anyways, prying his feelings out of him like a dentist to a rotten tooth— scared at first but you always end up feeling better. he had told you things that no ears had heard before, spoke words he could formally never make himself utter.

he must’ve seen something on your face, something that had his eyes welling beyond his control. he was a time lord for crying out loud, how did you always manage to reduce him to a mortal man? you opened your arms, inviting, and spoke in a tender voice, “come here.” and he came, like he always did.

he lifted you gently as he shuffled in beside you, setting you down so that you were sitting straddled intimately on his lap, arms around his neck with his face concealed in your shoulder. his shoulders shook as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear, things like, “i’m okay” and “we’re still together. we made it. we always do.”

minutes later, when his silent cries had stopped leaking onto your cotton shirt, he spoke quietly. “stay with me, yeah? just for a bit.”

settling with the fact that you would just have to be miserable without your caffeine, you headed out to catch the subway, where you got seated next to an agitated old man who wished to argue about politics to anyone who would listen. your attempts to curl in on yourself so he wouldn’t notice you weren’t very successful.

after surviving that, you really hoped your luck would have turned. nope. as soon as you walked into the lobby, your phone rang with an alert that your debit card had been flagged with fraud charges and would have to be cancelled. wonderful.

finally getting situated at your desk, your computer booting up and sipping on a cold, stale coffee you snagged from the break room, you figured it could only go up from there. how wrong you were. only an hour into your shift, perry called your name loudly from the bullpen and every head around swiveled to look at you.

it made hives want to jump up from underneath your flesh, but you stood and quietly walked over to him, giving the impression of a kicked bunny as he announced the news that you would have to be taken off the important events column for the week and be put onto the gossip column.

not that there was anything wrong with it, you always enjoyed sitting quietly as cat rambled on and on about her latest article, but seriously? you? you didn’t have a single gossip-y, cool-girl bone in your body. (so you think, everyone else would disagree.)

your already barely surviving energy deflated like a sad, pathetic balloon, and clark wasn’t even around to cheer you up with his world-shattering smile. he was out chasing an article, per perry’s request, who was really getting on your nerves today. and you didn’t say that lightly! everybody knew it took a hell of a lot to get on your bad side.

it was only fitting that after that, in the theme of bad days, your computer would randomly restart and lose everything you had been working on for 2 days. not that you would be needing it anyway, considering your newfound column, but you could’ve used it for next time!

in your frantic attempt to write down all that had been lost so you wouldn’t forget, your ringtone began to blare from your pocket. quickly taking the call into a quiet corner, you listened as your mother rambled on about how your childhood cat, nemo, had passed away last night.

unfortunately for clark, that was the exact moment he walked in through the elevator, his eyes subconsciously scanning for yours. you hung up the call silently, beginning to walk back to your desk with a dissociated demeanor, and your eyes met clark.

he bounded over like an eager puppy, smiling brightly and holding out a cup of hot coffee for you. he expected your usual reaction, a light rosy tone coloring your cheeks, looking up at him with grateful eyes and whispering that he shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. he would definitely not have guessed this.

he watched in absolute horror as your wide, sad eyes began to fill with gut-wrenching tears, bottom lip wobbling despite all attempts to control it. he felt his chest tighten in sheer panic, his mind quickly running through every scenario of what could have possibly happened while he was gone to make you, his happy girl, cry.

and then you were gone, running out of the bullpen and towards the ladies room, bumping into people and desks due to the distorted vision your tears were supplying. it was so unusual to your normal, graceful demeanor that many people stopped to watch in friendly worry. it made everything feel ten times worse.

you slammed the stall door closed behind you, your breath coming out in small, short puffs, palms sweaty and face blotchy. nausea rose in your gut as you pressed your hands to your face, coming back covered in salty drops.

it was all too much, and you finally lost it. you heard the loud, nervous footsteps before you heard his voice. “honey? please let me in.” you hiccuped, gaining your strength before saying, “you can’t be in here.”

clark knew. if anyone was too walk in right now, they would be alarmed, for sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because it was you, and you were hurting. “i know. please let me in?”

you didn’t reply, only undid the metal lock with great hesitance. in a second, clark’s big frame was in there with you, his warm hands gently swiping away the tears that just kept coming. “oh, baby. what happened?”

you shook your head, burying your face into his fancy button-up, each sob cracking a piece off of clark’s composure. his heart felt fragmented in his chest, and it appeared like there was nothing he could do. screw that.

he drew back, large palms cupping your cheeks firmly and making your eyes meet his. “bunny, you gotta talk to me. let me fix it, yeah?” the desperation laced in his voice is what got you, and you spilled.

“my alarm didn’t go off, and then i spilt my coffee and burnt my hand-” (you ignored how clark immediately began to examine it in worry) “and then i got seated next to this really weird old dude on the subway who kept trying to argue-” (you ignored the tightening of his jaw) “and then my card was cancelled, perry put me on the freaking gossip column, i lost 2 days worth of work, and my cat died!”

your words turned to incoherent cries towards the end, but clark’s super hearing and knowledge of everything you helped him get the point. you shoved your face into his chest again, and his heart ached with the knowledge that all he could do was be here.

“i know honey, i know. it’s okay, i’m right here.” he whispered into your ear, allowing you the time you needed to compose yourself, hand running up and down your small back comfortingly. after a few moments, your sad sniffles began to quiet and you stepped back a pace, wiping your face.

heavy guilt weighed on your chest as you examined clark’s tear-soaked shirt and the worry creasing his brows. “i’m sorry.” you said quietly, hands fidgeting together. “hey, none of that. absolutely not.” he grabbed your hands, encircling them easily in his own.

“i’m happy you let me be here, okay? golly, it would’ve broken my heart if i wasn’t here and you were going through this alone.” his tone left no room for discussion. you nodded, not fully convinced but not having the energy to argue.

“now, what do you need me to do, baby?” you paused, looking up at his huge frame that was shoved uncomfortably into the small stall, probably causing a crook in his neck as he had to slightly bend.

“can we go home…?” you said it with such uncertainty that his face softened further than thought possible. “jeez, bun, yeah. of course. what, did you think we were going to stay here?” he says, and a little laugh escapes you despite all odds.

his face breaks out into a marvelous, accomplished smile, and he moves to unslide the metal stall lock. you both huddle out together like penguins, his clark’s hand rested firmly on your lower back, guiding you with a soft dominance without even realizing it.

“grab your coat, okay honey? i’ll talk to perry.” you nod along, quickly looking in the mirror across the room to check that you weren’t a complete mess before walking out cautiously, like a timid creature, back to your desk.

in minutes, the two of you were gone, walking hand in hand down the sidewalk towards the staff parking lot. (clark had nudged you to the side facing away from the road without even realizing it.)

“thank you, clark.” your voice was quiet, nearly undetectable to anyone passing by with the noise of the city all around. but to clark? it was the only thing he could hear.

nerves of excitement raced through your veins, heating your blood and making your heart pound. you were speed-walking through the halls, gaining a couple of odd looks, but you were too happy to care.

you had a sheet of paper clutched in your hand, a bright red stamp on the right corner. A+. you struggled greatly in chemistry, a fact all your friends and family knew. the class was practically created by a sociopathic masochist, math and science rolled into one? no way.

but you’d studied until your eyes crossed for this exam, and clearly your efforts had paid off. you couldn’t wait to tell steve. knowing his last class of the day, you opened the door to the gym and pranced in, a proud beam on your face.

your eyes found his figure immediately, stood a couple of feet away chatting with tommy. you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but their conversation easily met your ears, making you guiltily hide behind a rack filled with basketballs to understand their topic.

“great game, dude. me and the boys are gonna be at marcus’s house tonight for a get together, beer and basketball. you in?”

“i can’t, sorry. i’m having dinner with y/n tonight.”

you felt tommy’s scoff more than you heard it. “again? when was the last time you hung out with us, man? seems a little clingy if you ask me.”

ouch. clingy. you’d been called it more times than you could describe in past relationships, being told you’re “too much.” you’d confided in steve about it, as well. your deep-rooted insecurities that you were overwhelming and annoying, your affections drowning.

he’d assured you with that smile that was just so steve that you were the perfect amount. that he loved your attention and endearments, and for the first time, you’d believed him. surely he would defend you, right? wrong.

his laugh met your ears, and you swore you could hear a little crack in your chest as your eyes began to water. if only you could see his face, you’d see how forced and uncomfortable he truly looked. “i mean, i guess.”

“i’m telling you, it’s toxic. i had a girl like that before, had to ditch her. wasn’t healthy, y’know? you gotta look after you man.” your breath hitched, anxiously awaiting his response. there was silence for a couple of moments, and then… “yeah, you’re right. i’ll think on it. thanks, tommy.”

“no problem, dude.” you could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks onto your lips. you briefly heard the crinkle of paper as your hand made a fist. you had to get out of here. you turned, mood drastically different than when you entered, and left the foul-smelling building.

the whole way home as you drove, the words repeated in your head. clingy. toxic. clingy. toxic. you’d just have to show him that you could be different, then.

ᝰ.ᐟ

it had been two weeks. two weeks of no phone calls, no hand-holding in the halls, no dates, nothing. just forced laughs and a distant look in your eyes whenever he spoke. steve was going mad, racking his brain for whatever could’ve caused this.

he’s lost count of the times he’s asked you if you were alright. before this, you would’ve looked at him with a fond smile and a roll of your eyes, leaning on his shoulder and replying, “i’m fine, stevie! you worry too much.” now, all he gets is an unconvincing mhm and a too-bright smile.

he’s unbelievably confused. and more than that, scared. what had happened to make you act like this? so… not you? which is how he finds himself outside of your house sunday morning, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand and an anxious deposition.

he’s going to apologize. what for, he has no clue, but it doesn’t matter. he needs you back. not this robotic version of you. palms sweaty, he brings his hand to knock, hearing a couple of shouts and jingling before the door opens to reveal your mother.

“oh, steve! hey, sweetie. i didn’t know you were coming. y/n is just upstairs, you can head on up.” he murmurs a tiny thank you, slipping off his shoes before walking up the stairs, passing the photos of you throughout the years on the way. his chest clenches.

he reaches your door. closes his eyes. inhales. exhales. opens his eyes. and then knocks. he hears a tiny, “come in,” and slowly twists the knob. there you are, in all of your glory, hair in a tussled bun as you sit on your windowsill, book in hand. you look up, and steve swears his can see the briefest flash of panic in your eyes before you shutter it and put your book down.

“what are you doing here?” it slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. is he here to finally break up with you? he hesitates, and then takes a seat at your desk across from you.

“did i… do something? to make you like this?” he waves his hand towards you, and your brows furrow. he continues you before you can say anything. “i mean, you haven’t called me ‘stevie’ in weeks. you barely talk to me, we only see each other at school, and when we do, you’re not actually there. you’re like- like detached. i miss you. please let me fix whatever this is.” his chest huffs from the speed of which he spoke the frantic words, and you blink, confused.

“i… i thought this was what you wanted?” you say, voice small and perplexed. steve lets out a disbelieving, sad laugh. “why the hell would i want that?” you pause, and then to his utmost horror your eyes begin to fill with gut wrenching tears. you sniffle, and his his heart breaks.

“i heard you. with tommy, in the gym. you-” hiccup. “he said that i was clingy and toxic. said that you should break up with me. you… you agreed. i thought that… that if i give you some space-” steve’s expression is a horrified, panicky visage of despair. “oh god, honey, no. fuck. i’m so, so sorry. i would never.” he stands, and within a moment, he’s with you, holding your shaking form in his arms.

“i just said that to get him off my back. tommy is an asshole, and he’ll never change or understand my viewpoint. there’s no point in arguing with him. i’m so, so sorry that i made you think that. jesus, if anyone’s the clingy one, it’s me. i was going insane. i love you. i love your ‘clinginess’ more than you could ever understand. it makes me feel loved and wanted, and i’m so sorry that i made you feel the opposite. i want my girl back.”

your tears are leaking into his shirt, each one feeling like a punch to his gut. he holds you tighter, as if the stronger his embrace, the more he could chase away your insecurities. you sniffle, hope slowly creeping back up. “really?”

“fuck yes, really. i brought you white roses and everything. i will get on me knees and beg, if you want me to.” a giggle slips out of your mouth, and steve feels his heart slowly being glued back together.

“what a sight that would be. king steve, begging for my forgiveness.” he pulls away, hand gripping your jaw gently. “i don’t want to be king steve. i want to be stevie, yeah?” a soft, teasing smile appears on your face.

“i thought you hated that nickname.”

“i’d kill a demogorgan to get it back right now.” he answers with no hesitation, complete seriousness in his unwavering gaze. you laugh, and the sight makes steve want to cry out of relief.

“i forgive you, stevie.” his lips are on yours in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperate and everything you both need. every swipe of his tongue a reassurance, every whimper a promise. “thank you.” he speaks against your lips, over and over again. he pulls away, both of you panting and flushed, foreheads rested together. “i love you.” he whispers, the syllables drifting out of his mouth and straight into your chest. “i love you, too.” it’s silent for a peaceful moment, and then…