#Mild Hurt/Comfort

[admrlthundrbolt]

Run Run Run (Eddie x Chubby Reader x Venom)

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You were someone he could always depend on. The kind neighbor that kept him in mind. So when Venom comes into the picture, it's hard for him to not obsess over you. This perfectly plump morsel waiting to be devoured. He need only to convince Eddie that you belonged with them.

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Hey guys, I'm back at it again. In all honesty Venom and Eddie have to be one of my favorite duos. So with the new movie coming out soon. We'll I just couldn't resist writing something for them. Hope you enjoy.

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You sighed as the mail locker stayed jammed shut. No matter how much you yanked or jiggled. It never seems to budge. Hotel Schueller had never been the nicest apartment building. But it was a short walk from your job and had some great people around it.

The front door squeaking open caused your head to shoot in it's direction. Speaking of, your favorite upstairs neighbor just walked in. “Hey Eddie, do you think you could give me a hand?” You were hopeful as you called out to him.

Without sparing you a glance he darted to the stairs. “Can't right now. I think I made a break through with this newest story.”

Your face dropped as he brushed you off. “Oh, OK then.” Trying not to let it get to you, your shoulders sagged. Turning back to the locker, you were surprised to see it open.

Picking up his pace at your downtrodden answer, he frowned. So focused on his annoyance with the situation. He didn't notice a black tendril merging back, coming from the lobby.

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

Venom was seething. Not only had he been plucked from his home planet. But his host was forcing him from one of the most perfect beings. And for what! He didn't trust the symbiote to keep you safe. That was the only thing he wanted. Your safety was at the top of his priority list. Next to finding out if your soft flesh felt as luscious as it look. Oh to feel his tendrils caress your thick thighs. Spend enough time wrapped around you to know your smell…your taste. His body trembled at the mere thought.

Until he remembered that Eddie would never allow such things. He knew how the man treasured you. How he didn't even realize that the two of their thoughts aligned. The night he had merged with the man, you had been on his mind. The alien had then brushed the thoughts away. A being if Earth was no concern of his. Then you showed up at his door, worried beyond belief. It was endearing to him. To have such a caring person seek him out. He and his host shared the same thoughts in that moment. You were a Saint and they were the Sinner unworthy of you.

Still it didn't stop him from pouting. “Why can we not meet them Eddie?” He could feel an annoyance fill his host. But he pressed, he could not ignore him forever. “We wish to bask in their company. To hear her sweet tones. Feel the warmth of their plush skin.” The heat that began to spread across the man's body was delightful. It wouldn't be long before he could convince him to bring you closer.

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

You had been on his mind constantly lately. Between trying to avoid your presence and Venom's pestering. There didn't seem to be a moment that you weren't running through his head.

Even now, as he tried to drift to sleep. His thoughts were plagued by you. Your caring nature and sweet laughter. The way your eyes crinkle when you smile. The suppleness of your hand when it happened to brush against his. The warmth of your presence was enough to blind him.

But you were to good for them. You had a normal life that didn't need them to ruin it. If you had only met sooner in life things may have turned out differently. Rolling over, he felt sleep began to wrap around him. The image of you wandering in his subconscious, lulling him.

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

Another day and another argument. “You can't eat every inconvenience we have.” He shook his head as he slammed the apartment door shut. Throwing his things towards the couch, he glared as they fell to the floor instead.

“What is the point of protecting the city if we do not also benefit.” His floating head frowned at the man. It wasn't enough that he was confined to this body. But the moral code of his host was stifling.

“They are a civil servant. Their job is to enforce the rules and keep people safe. A ticket sucks, but it happens.” As much as he likes to take the high road. There was a part of him that agreed with the parasite. He had gotten back to his motorcycle before the guy had finished the ticket. Didn't stop him from finishing and slapping in on the seat. Still being a douche wasn't a crime. A fact that really made Venom rage.

His eyes narrowed at Eddie, then a vicious grin curled on his lips. “If we cannot eat them, then let's go get some chocolate.” He knew changing the subject from violence usually got him his way. The thought of heading to Mrs. Chen's, while it also happened to be time for you to get off work. Well, let's just call it a happy coincidence. Until he let his thoughts get a bit to loud in his excitement. Allowing his host to hear his line of thought.

His head shook in resolution. “No way. You are not getting a chance to get them involved.” He moved towards the bathroom, but was stopped. His feet had become enclased in black tendrils. His body marched to the front door. Reaching for the fridge, he barely caught the handle. Though this didn't stop the alien. Instead the appliance toppled over with a crash. They argued a bit longer, each fighting for control. Until a frantic pounding came from the door.

Morphing back into his host, Venom growled. This wouldn't be the end of the conversation. Though his annoyance shifted into elation as you called out.

“Eddie! Are you ok?” You sounded out of breath. It was a safe guess that you rushed up stairs. It warmed both of them to think that the noise from their argument made you check on them. But that didn't stop the grimace from settling on the man's face. He debated whether or not to open the door.

“Please Eddie. I just need to know you're not hurt.” You were desperate. The image of his sickly face not to long ago flashing in your mind. Your upstairs neighbor that always had you back. He looked as if he was on death's door that night. He may have pulled away from you lately. But that was no reason to not worry about a friend.

He crack the door open, his heart thruming chaoticly. Though for all of his anxiety, the sight of your soft face calmed him. Pulling the door wider, he gave you a sad look. He wanted to tell you everything. Knowing you would embrace him, with your soft warmth. Reassure him that everything was fine. You would help him and be there. Instead he stared at you and forced a small smile onto his lips. “I'm OK. Just some problems with the fridge.” He steps back and you blink at the overturned appliance.

Your shoulders sagged, the tension finally releasing. Clutching the flashlight tighter in your hands you sighed. “What about the voices?” You hated to pry, but his safety was more important than etiquette.

He glanced at the flash light in your hands. It was odd that you had it. Shaking the thought away he pointed to the TV. “I must have had it up to loud. Sorry about that.” A second to late Venom pointed out his mistake. ‘It is off Eddie.’ His face pinched at the obvious lie.

You looked him over and didn't see any signs of distress. So with a nod and a relieved smile you went on your way. Not wanting to be a bother.

The pair looked after you longingly. Each wishing they could truly tell you.

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

Venom stared longingly out of the window. He kept glancing down, hoping you might step out on the fire escape. It was a rare occurrence, but he cherished any time he could spend with you. Even if you weren't aware of it.

He still hadn't convinced Eddie to pursue you. The idiot didn't understand! If there was danger then they could save you. The safest place you could be was in their arms. He would wrap himself around your plush warmth. Sink his tendrils into your lusciously pliable skin. The three of you could enjoy so many wonderfully lazy days together. A pur flowed up his throat at the thought.

This sound caught Eddie's attention. It was an odd noise to come from the symbiote. Glancing at his watch, he decided it was time for a break. Pushing away from the desk, he made his way over to the floating head. “Watcha see Ven?”

The alien sighed wistfully. “I am thinking about (Y/N).” He glanced at his host from the corner of his vision.

The man's expression dropped a bit. For as much as he protested, he actually agreed with the parasite. You were amazing and he would love to be with you. But the thought of them causing you pain. It was to much to bear. “I know buddy. We need to think about them though.”

Before he could reluctantly agree, they were pulled from their conversation by yelling. There was a man threatening a woman outside the window. “Look lady, you better hand everything over!” He was waving around a knife as he frantically demanded her stuff.

The alien perked up, nothing would brighten his mood more than criminal brains. “Eddie we must go help. That lady is in danger.”

He was reluctant to jump into action. But the weapon was making it hard to stay in place. Then it became impossible to not intervene. When your voice answered the mugger. “OK, just let me get out my flashlight. I can't find my wallet without it.”

They shifted as the violent man told you to hurry up. Not bothering to open the window they explode onto the fire escape. This distracts the robber, but not you. They see you pull out the same flashlight as the other day. Their confusion soon turns to surprise as you jab it into the man's stomach. He doubles over in pain and groans. You don't give him a moment to catch his breath as you bring your knee to his nose. A sickening cruch echoes through the alley. The man's body drops unceremoniously with a hard thud. With him taken care of, you turn towards the heavy breathing behind you.

They stared at you in awe. Their sweet, soft little neighbor had just downed a threatening man with a weapon. Venom's mouth parted in a wide taunting grin. “And you thought she was helpless.” He would have continued his gloating. If not for the fact that you had turned the taser towards them.

“If you take a step closer I won't hesitate to use this on you.” The man on the ground shifted a bit, but made no other move. You glance at him, though you never fully turned from the being in front of you. “What, are you guys some sort of team. One of you makes threats while the other gets behind the victim?” Your grip tightened on your weapon, sending another short shot of sparks out.

He stepped forward shaking his head. Then stopped as you held down the button. The taser may be small, but it sent a barrage of electricity out. “No, you have it all wrong.” With great reluctants, he shifts back down into his small counterpart.

A beat of silence goes by, then another, your eyes widening all the time. Then your hands come up and tangle in your hair. “This explains so much.” It was said so softly that he almost didn't catch it.

Taking a tentative step forward, his brows pinched in confusion. “It does?”

Your eyes shot in his direction. “Of course it does. I thought I may have been putting you under pressure. But the sudden change in attitude and schedule. It was a clear lifestyle change. Although.” You gave him and the being hovering near his shoulder a once over. “I wouldn't have guessed exactly this.”

The symbiote wasn't sure his smile could get any bigger. “We are happy to see that you are not angry with us Morsel. It was Eddie's stupid idea to avoid you.” He glared at the man accusingly.

He pointed his finger into the parasite's face. “It's not that simple and you know it.” He turned to you with tired eyes. “I didn't want you getting involved in this mess. You shouldn't have to worry about taking care of us.”

You shook your head with a hard look on your face. “Shouldn't I get a say in this. I've always considered you a close friend. And when you pulled away, I worried. Were you going through something or had I done something. Then the other day, there was obviously something going on. But you didn't trust me enough to tell me. It took someone attacking me to bring out the truth.” With a sigh you looked between the pair and moved a few steps forward. Your expression had softened by the time you stopped in front of them. “I understand that you wanted to protect me though. To be honest, I would have probably done the same if I were in your shoes.”

Wrapping your plush arm around his and gave it a squeeze. You were a bit shocked at the black tendrils that laced around your fingers. It was an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one. “Why don't we head to my place for some tea and talk about this?”

The duo nodded quickly. As they latched onto you, not willing to leave your side. They couldn't help to reflect on how they should have confided in you sooner. But they wouldn't make the same mistake in letting you not be a permanent facete in their lives. One they were willing to do anything for.

[samuelsdean]

I Don't Mind If It's You

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: maybe styling spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

genre: fluff

word count: 1081

author's notes: i missed spencer's long hair so i decided to write a self-indulging fic about playing with his hair.

SPENCER HAS ALWAYS FOREGONE STYLING HIS HAIR IN THE MORNINGS. He always thought as long as he could just flick the strands of hair behind his ear, he was good to go. And besides, he had a hair tie with him. He could just simply tie it back—no more pesky hair in his line of sight.

He has always foregone styling his hair in the mornings until he met you. While he was big on practicality & “Hairstyling is a waste of time”!” You were the exact opposite. 

It’s quite a funny thing to think about. Spencer, a certified germaphobe, was uncaring about how his hair looked, whether it was kept well today or it looked like a bird’s nest the next. And then, there’s you. You’re not a germaphobe though you pride yourself as a chic woman. Not a law enforcement job could stop you from looking like you came straight out of a magazine.

You always found the time to make sure your hair looked pretty and presentable before heading to work. In your free time—quite rare for FBI agents—you liked to read magazines for trendy new styles to try or watch videos online for tutorials.

And today was definitely your lucky day. No case. Everyone is off for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that’s where your luck ended.

You got injured during your last case. Your arm is in a cast, unable to move it around like you wanted it to. Fortunately, your hand was still good & thankfully, uninjured, unlike the rest of your arm. So, although you were free to lounge around your home, you couldn’t try that one hairstyle you found in one of those Cosmopolitan articles.

Until a genius idea came to you like a light bulb turning on.

“Hey, Spence?”

You asked your boyfriend, who was busy skimming through what seemed like his third or fourth book of the day.

He’s so cute when he’s all focused like this, you thought. 

He hummed in response, still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pages.

“I have a favor to ask you.”

This made Spencer look up from what he was reading, staring at you questioningly. You were the type of person who never asked for help or favors—unless needed. You often disagreed with him because he would prefer it if you told him whatever problem you had. Although he was a genius and could help with you, he knew lending an ear to someone was already a big help. 

"You know I can't move my arm around, right?" You asked him, to which he nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, is it itchy?” He asked, about to go off on one of his notable tangents. “It takes around six to eight weeks for broken bones in casts to heal. Also, around that time, the injured area starts to itch.”

You nodded fondly at the man, not minding a little bit that he went off-topic. You love listening to his mini-lectures—not only do you learn something new, but you’d also hear the soft tone of his voice. One thing about Spencer is he had a pretty voice. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“There are five main reasons why your casts itch—nerves, trapped moisture, immune response, dead skin cells, and body hair.” Spencer continued tattling. “Nerves cause itchiness because the nerve endings in the skin may fire as the cast begins to harden and dry, sending itch-inducing signals to the brain. As for the itchiness being an immune response, it ensues when the body perceives the plaster of Paris or fiberglass as an outside invader. Histamines may be released. Itching, redness, and swelling can be brought on by released histamine.” 

With his excitement to share facts about how broken bones heal, you couldn’t help but laugh at how dorky but adorable your boyfriend was, which made him scrunch his nose.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t mind. I like it.”

At this, Spencer’s ears started turning pink, making you chuckle some more. He scratched the back of his neck in shyness as you took it as a clue to tell him what you needed from him.

“My arm isn’t itchy, babe,” you began, “What I need from you is your hair.”

“My what?” 

“Your hair.” 

It was your turn to get shy. You knew Spencer wasn’t a big fan of having his hair messed with. It’s not that he hates it. He just doesn’t like messing with it that much—minus the occasional flicking behind his ear and simply tying it back when it gets irritating.

“I—um,” you explained further, trying to fight against the embarrassment you were feeling. This was your boyfriend you’re talking to!  “I saw this cute new hairstyle online and I wanted to try it but you know, with the broken arm and all…” You trailed off.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You chuckled humorlessly, beyond embarrassed at this point.

This was such a bad idea. Why did you even bring it up? You were about to start berating yourself, ready to hop onto the next train and create a new identity for yourself, when you noticed Spencer shuffling towards you, sitting on the floor between your legs.

“You want me to style your hair?” You asked incredulously, still can’t believe Spencer would let you play with his hair.

“Of course.” He replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world 

Like it was an everyday thing for anyone—you—to do his hair.

“I don’t mind my hair being played with if it’s you.”

At that, you blushed as you started combing through his soft curls with your fingers. Spencer merely smiled softly at the gesture and closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Spencer asked quietly.

“Yeah?” You asked back as you started braiding his hair. “What is it, Spence?”

“I love you.” He muttered. “I may not like it when people touch my hair out of nowhere. But if it’s you, I don’t mind having you do it for the rest of my life.”

You gasped at his sudden confession and were about to say those three words back when you felt it.

Spencer planted a kiss on your injured arm and pulled your other one down, so he could be face-to-face with you. And before you knew it, his lips brushed against yours, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

Maybe styling Spencer’s hair should be an everyday thing for both of you.

[leighsartworks216]

The Sound of Being Loved

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Possibly OOC. I'm posting this at like 12am and I am so tired sleepy but I needed to finish this Or Else

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

Word Count: 737

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion let out a stiff breath as your fingers brushed over the scar. The poem. The sigil. Whatever it was Cazador'd carved into his back.

You'd asked him about it before. He'd answer curtly and bitterly - as he’d always done when his master was the subject of conversation. But that was so long ago now. At least, it felt quite long ago. He couldn't really be sure. All he knew was things were finally dying down and becoming normal. As normal as things could be, anyway. And you couldn't stop yourself from asking again.

That's how you ended up straddling his thighs as he laid chest-down on the bed.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you reminded him softly. You kept repeating the phrase when he tensed beneath your fingers, or got that quiet, distant aura about him.

He hummed, turning his head to peek over his shoulder at you. He offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Go on," he encouraged. "He's dead - it doesn't matter anymore."

You tilted your head. Sharp eyes studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. He sighed quietly as your hand massaged the back of his neck. "But it still happened," you said, "you still hate it."

He smirked, but his quiet voice gave away the false confidence. "You know me too well, darling."

"Yes," you leaned down to kiss his cheek, "I do." He turned his head slightly more to catch your lips for a momentary kiss. Your lips hovered over his, eyes boring into his soul, searching. "I can stop."

"No. Please. I... I want you to know every part of me. I trust you."

You kissed him once more, languid and sweet, before sitting back up. He closed his eyes and tried to relax under your fingers. They danced across his back, tracing each line in their circular pattern. One hand slid to his waist to thumb circles into his side. He wondered why for a moment. Surely it would be easier to feel each infernal letter with both hands? Then he realized: it was a distraction. You were giving him something to focus on while you studied his back. His undead heart stuttered in his chest.

“I could translate it,” you whisper. It’s a gentle offer. “If you wanted to know what it says.”

Cazador is dead, he reminds himself. Whatever the bastard carved into his skin, it shouldn’t hold so much power over him anymore. But the thought of knowing exactly what was written there… His lips pursed.

You pressed a kiss to his spine, in between the circles of text. He lets out a breath. “No. Let it die with him.”

You’re quiet as you go back to tracing. He wonders if you’re translating it in your mind. He… doesn’t mind the thought - not as much as he thought he would. He trusts you, enough to know you would take the words to your grave. They would never be used against him, held over him as leverage. They’d just sit in a corner of your mind and collect dust, until their meaning is lost forever. He doesn’t mind that at all.

Once you’ve felt all of the letters, your hand traces the circles themselves. Starting right at the center, you go out ring by ring. Where scarred lines branch off, you ghost your touch up and down the ridges. There are several at the bottom of the scar. It almost looks like dripping wax, sealed into his skin forever. Imagining what it was like hurts too much.

He peeks over his shoulder again as he feels your hands, full, flat-palmed on his skin, sliding over his sides. You lay on top of him, sliding your arms around him, squished between his stomach and the bed. You’re so warm. Your head rests between his shoulder blades, breaths sliding across his back and shoulders like a warm summer breeze. His body fully relaxed into the affection. All tension faded away, and he allowed his eyes to close in the comfort.

“I love you,” you hum near his ear. “My beautiful star.”

Astarion smiles. “I love you, too. My dearest blood donor.” He relishes in the way you laugh against him, full and bright and free. And he hopes, when he’s lived for centuries more, and loses the spark of life in his eye, he remembers exactly how it sounds to be loved.

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts. 

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

A Penny for Your Thoughts (Ace x Reader)

A/N: While I love cocky, confident Ace, I felt like the softer, more damaged side of him deserved some love too <3

Summary: Ace has been feeling a bit low lately, and has been isolating from Reader, and the crew. Reader goes to talk to him, and a rather emotional interaction ensues. Please see warnings.

Warnings: Ace is having an emotional, and vulnerable moment. Ace struggling with his self-worth. Mentions of alcohol usage.

Writing prompt:

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Was I not supposed to?"

"I don't know... But can you do it again?"

Tags: Ace x Reader, angst & comfort, Ace dealing with self-worth issues

Word count: 2900

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You and Ace had been close friends for quite some time now. Very close, actually. Not quite as close as you’d have liked to be, but that did not matter much, as long as you had his friendship. Yes, if nothing else, his friendship was enough. 

Lately though, your friendship seemed to have been somewhat shaken. For some reason, Ace had been distancing from you, and all others lately. Sure, he’d still act fine when people talked to him. But that was not quite the way it used to be… The Ace you’d known so far was a bit of a chatter box - that is, when he was not fast asleep on the deck, or with his face in a plate of food. He loved to socialise with the crew, and was always offering to help wherever he felt he could be of any use. He’d often be engaged in some conversation or another, swapping tips and tops, cracking jokes, or regaling his men with tales. Now, however, he’d rather lean over the railing, gazing at the sea, lost in thought, or sit alone, isolated, than engage with others. He’d slip out during group conversations, or spend hours shut in the study, haunched over maps, and documents, working his way through endless stacks of paperwork - a task he’d always dreaded more than any other. It was not quite the same, no. 

It would be a lie to say it did not worry you. Ace was your best friend, and, if you were being honest with yourself, he was a bit more than that. It was only natural for you to notice, to miss him, and to worry. You couldn’t bring this up around others - it was clear it was not something he’d want broadcast in front of a crowd. So, you decided to speak to him as soon as you’d catch him alone. It shouldn’t be too hard. Afterall, he tended to seclude himself every chance he got those days. So, you waited. Ace had spent most of the day in the study. At lunch, there was not enough privacy to speak to him, so you let it slide. Afterwards, he disappeared, and you had no idea where. 

Eventually, night had fallen, and the Whitebeards were having a party on the main deck. It seemed like your plan would have to wait another day. The crowd grew and grew, as the music played, and the booze flowed. It was not unusual for pirates to party, and the parties on the Moby Dick never disappointed. Or at least, they never had, until this point. For, as expected, you could not find Ace anywhere in the crowd, and a party without him simply felt incomplete. 

You spent some of the night gliding through the crowds, slipping from clique to clique, from conversation to conversation, eventually setting camp up by yourself by the refreshments table. You sighed as you scanned the swaying masses, as they sang, and danced, and chatted… as if they hadn’t even noticed. 

“Hey,” came a voice from behind you, as a hand gently grasped your shoulder. You turned around to find Marco, and Thatch. Thatch had a compassionate smile on his face, and, while Marco didn’t show it on his lips, the same compassion, and understanding could be read in his eyes as he looked down at you, secluded as you were, camping alone by the booze. 

“We know,” Marco says softly. You tilt your head sideways, questioning him with a silent look. 

“You must be thinking we hadn’t noticed how Ace has been drawing himself back lately,” he starts, as he takes his hand off your shoulder, and turns to look at the merry-makers. “How can the crew party as if they don’t even notice? But we do notice. We all do.” Now that he mentioned it, it dawned on you that Ace’s presence was not the only absence here tonight - a certain carefreeness seemed to escape many that night, and certainly those close to Ace - you, the commanders, Pops, and the men of his division. Now that you were aware of it, you saw it nearly everywhere - in their eyes, as they, too, scanned the crowd; on their lips, curled in half-smiles; on the very countenance of their bodies. They could all tell something - or rather, someone - was missing that night. 

“We were hoping a party might draw him out,” joined Thatch. “The plan was to get some booze in him, and hope it’ll loosen him up enough to tell us what’s wrong - how we can help. But, as you can see…” 

“He didn’t show,” finished Marco. 

“He never showed up,” you said simultaneously. 

“Yup…But!” he added with excitement, and you saw a smile creep on Marco’s face as he turned to look at you once more. 

“We got one more thing we’d like to try.” 

“Ah, and that is where I come in, I presume?” You turned to look at them, swirling your drink, as you waited for them to continue. 

“Yep,” they confirmed in unison, before Marco proceeded to explain. “See, we found him sulking alone on the quarterdeck. Seems he came out for the booze, but didn’t stick around for the company.” 

“Ouch! Well, that’s flattering,” you remarked jokingly, knowing full well it was nothing personal. 

“Yeah, well, he won’t talk to us,” explained Thatch. 

“Yep, we’re clearly part of the ‘company’ he seems to be avoiding… Which brings us to your part.” 

“Ah, I get it. You want me to go up there, and see if I fare any better than you two.” 

Thatch was smiling, while Marco chuckled at your deduction, giving you a small smirk. 

“No,” he answered, “we know you’ll fare better than us.” The small, lopsided grin on Marco’s face made you cock an eyebrow for an instant, but you quickly brushed it off, as Thatch joined in once more.

“Yeah, we know you two are close. Hell, no one’s closer to him than you, except maybe his brothers,” added Thatch, matter-of-factly. 

“So, what we want from you is to go up there and bring him back to Earth.” 

You looked at them - they clearly cared about him, and were now resting their hopes on you, giving you a chance to help. They were giving you a chance to speak to him alone about whatever it is that’s been bothering him, just the way you’d told yourself you’d do. You glanced at your drink, swirling it around some more. Thatch’s words about how close you and Ace were made you feel warm inside. Maybe there was hope for you yet… But now was not the time for that. Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked up at your fellow conspirators. 

“Leave it to me!” you declared, shooting them a grin. 

“I knew we could count on you,” cheered Thatch, with a big smile, while Marco kept on his usual lazy smirk, giving you a small nod. They refilled your drink, and shoved a beer for Ace in your hands, before ushering you to the quarterdeck. 

You took a deep breath trying to calm your nerves, before you strutted off, shouting over your shoulder “Wish me luck!” 

“Good luck!” the guys responded, as you disappeared behind a corner. 

It was a warm night, and the skies were clear, revealing a veritable sea of stars above your head, complete with a bright full moon, and with nary a  cloud in sight. The music from the party was fading as you walked further and further away, towards the quarterdeck; its spritely rhythms now barely enough to muffle the clicking sound of your footsteps on the wooden planks. 

Indeed, way in the back, hidden out of sight, was Ace. Slumped on the deck, with his back resting against a wall, a couple of empty beers around him, and one bottle hanging by the neck in his hand. His head tilted upwards, his eyes fixed on the stars above him. He seemed so calm, so quiet, and yet, not serene in the slightest. It was as if the silent sorrow in his soul crept its way towards you, and took you by the hand, when his eyes suddenly turned to you. A smile made its way onto his lips, but failed to reach his tired eyes. ‘Had he been crying?’ 

“Hey, Y/N! What are you doing here?” Ace tried to act cheerful, and play pretend; he tried to hide his expression by finishing his drink, but you knew him far too well for that, and saw right through his act. 

“I heard you were out here,” you confessed as you went to sit down by his side, handing him the beer. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” you continued, as Ace took the bottle from your hand, “and I missed you. We’ve all been missing you.” You spoke softly, your voice barely above the sounds surrounding you - the music, the clamour from the main deck, with the clanging of beer-filled mugs, and the familiar sounds of waves splashing rhythmically against the sides of the ship. Ace averted his gaze from you, lest you saw the truth in his eyes. But you already knew. You’ve seen it the moment he looked your way. 

Shuffling around a bit, you shifted position, and made yourself more comfortable against the wall, by his side. You allowed a moment to pass in silence, not intending to come off too forcefully, as you both watched the stars twinkling above your heads. You took a sip of your drink. The sloshing of liquid punctuated the silence before you spoke. 

“Care you tell me what’s got you so down? Hm?” you questioned, as gently as you could. Slowly, you turned your head towards him, giving him a side-look, and a soft, half-hearted smile as you waited for his response. 

Ace pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them; the bottle you’d given him still hanging in his hand. He thought he hid it better than that, even from you. But he should have known you’d see right through, and if he were being honest with himself, deep down, he was glad you did. He needed you to pull him out of the spiralling nightmares that had become his thoughts. But that didn’t make it any easier to get the words out. 

Ace rested his chin on his arms, staring straight ahead, at nothing in particular, as his mind scampered to string words together. Though his mouth was hidden behind one of his arms, you could see he was working on an answer by the frown that weighed on his brow. A few moments passed in silence before you placed your hand on his shoulder blade, gently rubbing his back. His eyes darted up to yours, his mouth hanging ever so slightly open, before closing it again, and averting his gaze once more. The warmth of your hand on his skin was comforting, safe, inviting; inviting him to tell you of his woes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, barely audible over the commotion of the party on the main deck. 

“What for?” 

“For making you worry… You, and Marco, and Thatch, and Izou, and Pops, and all the others…I’m sorry for shutting you all out these past few days… weeks. I’m just…” Ace paused for a moment, as he turned his head away from you again, and fixed his eyes on the swaying waves before him. “I… haven’t been myself lately, is all.” 

“Ace, it’s alright. We’ve all got our darker days. It’s - “ 

Ace draws a shaky breath, before cutting you off. “I know it’s not fit for a commander - t’ give in like that, and shut you all out. I should have done better… You all deserve better…” 

The hand that was rubbing his back froze in place, as you stared at him in shock - eyes wide, and slack jawed - struggling to believe the words you were hearing. Seeing Ace crumbling down like this certainly struck a chord. You and Ace were close, but this was a side of him you’d never seen before. Was this the same daredevil you’d grown so used to over time? Sure, you were aware that he wasn’t always that same cocky bastard. You knew he had a softer side too, and you knew he was damaged too. You knew that he struggled with his past - his ancestry, especially - wondering if he really deserved to be where he was, and be loved as he was. Sometimes he’d wondered if maybe he could have done more for Luffy - if he was a good older brother. Other times he wondered if he was doing right by Pops, and the other Whitebeards. You knew all of this, and then some. But you’d never seen him so broken before. How long had he been carrying this stone around his neck? At a loss of words, all you could do was stare at him - lips trembling as you tried to form words; throat tightening, as you tried to hold back tears. 

“I’m sorry you’re missing out on the party to sit here with me,” he continued, “but I also wanna say thank you. Thank you for your time, and thank you for your company.” He adjusted his sitting position, stretching out the leg nearest to you and allowing it to bend to the side, as his arm hung over his bent knee. “I hope you know how much I value your friendship… despite the past couple of weeks… And thanks for the drink too,” he chuckles, a bittersweet smile on his face as he takes a swig, before quickly resuming his monologue. “And thank Marco and Thatch too for trying to cheer me up. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you guys. Y'all deserve better than someone like me,” he trailed off. His head briefly dipped down against his arm, before he quickly lifted it up, and tilted it back against the wall. It was as if he were afraid that if he allowed his head to hang like that he might break down, and cry. His lips curled, and trembled with a bittersweet smile. You watched as his brows furrowed, and the corners of his mouth twitched, before he covered his eyes with his hand. From his shaking lips came a sound hard to pinpoint. Was it a sob? A scoff? A chortle? Whatever it was, it clearly captured his inner turmoil. 

Seeing him like this disarmed you completely. You gawked at him for a moment longer, unaware that large, warm tears had started spilling from your eyes, down your cheeks, and down your neck. You watched him shake his head, as if in disbelief of the situation too - in disbelief of the things he’s said, in disbelief of having allowed someone to see him like that. 

The shock still prevented you from forming proper sentences, but you could no longer sit by silently. “Ace…” 

Hearing his name carried on a breathy whisper snaps him out of his spiral, and pulls his attention towards you. Ace hardly had time to register the pained look on your tear-stained face, before you cupped his cheeks in your hands, and pressed your lips against him. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing out the tears past your lashes. The kiss felt hot, with a thick blend of love, and pain; with all the laden words that have spilt, and all those that would not come; with all emotions that you both had been trying to hide. It wasn’t long before you slowly pulled away from him, keeping his face between your palms. The kiss may not have lasted long, but it was enough to get him to shut up, and cease his self-deprecatory verbiage, if only for a moment. You took a moment to scan the shocked, flustered expression on his freckled face before speaking. 

“I’ll decide what I deserve,” you stated, finally letting go of his face. 

You watched as Ace, who seemed perfectly stupefied by your little stunt, attempted - and failed - to pull his wits about him. 

“Did… Did you just kiss me?” He looked cute as a button as he pointed at himself, confused, as if trying to comprehend his own question. You chuckled at his reaction. 

“Was I not supposed to?” You may have chuckled at his reaction, but the truth is that you did it on an impulse, and now the reality of it all was setting in for you too. You’d had a crush on him for ages now, and never in a million years would you have imagined things going this way. But what’s done is done, and this was the moment of truth. Every moment it took for him to answer felt like an eternity, as you kept wondering - What was he going to do? What was he going to say? You couldn’t help but avert your eyes from his, as you felt a blush creep onto your face. You cursed the full moon for its glow so bright, for you were nearly sure Ace could see the deep pink darkening your cheeks. 

“I don’t know, but… Can you do it again?” 

Looking up, you found Ace watching you, expectantly, with a soft, albeit nervous, smile, and a blush to rival your own.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d say you deserve some more.”

[deepcreekvultures-writing]

"Tequila and Palmistry"

Spencer Reid x Drunk!Reader

Words: 4,754

Tags: Drunken Flirting, Spencer Reid Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid takes care of drunk reader, Spencer Reid Ranting, Mentions of Violence, Spencer Reid's hands, I Love Spencer Reid, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Drunk Reader, Early Seasons Spencer (S1/Early S2)

After a tough case where you were almost killed by the unsub, the team decides to go to the bar and unwind. While there, Spencer ends up having to keep you from going off the deep end.

==========

Watching you drink was like watching an Olympic sprinter in their prime. You were slamming shots back like they were nothing as soon as the team got to the bar. 

The last case was particularly intense for you, considering you fit the unsubs target perfectly. No one batted an eye at you nursing yourself with alcohol.

Except Spencer.

He had attempted to say something after your fourth shot, but Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered a soft “Let her have this, kid.” 

After your sixth shot of tequila, you moved on to tequila sunrises, which you went through like water. Gideon finally put his foot down after your third sunrise, instructing you to make the fourth last because you were being cut off.

Luckily for Gideon, you weren’t a mean drunk.

Spencer was surprised at how peppy you were under the influence. During cases, you kept your guard up, letting loose just a little when you were alone with Spencer, but you always kept it at arm's length.

At some point, you slid your glass into Spencer’s hand, grabbing Elle and Penelope by the wrists and pulling them to the center of the bar to dance. He glances down at the glass in confusion before looking up at Hotch and Morgan. Hotch smiles to himself, sipping on his beer, while Morgan whistles playfully.

“She trusts you with her drink, Pretty Boy. That’s an accomplishment.” 

“Actually, this bar invests in straws that are able to detect whether or not Rohypnol or any other drugs are in the drink.” Spencer responds, still keeping the glass in his grasp.

“I’m sure she’s too slammed to notice, Reid.” Derek chuckles in response.

“This is a one-time deal; next time we go out together, we have to make sure she doesn’t go off the rails like this again.” Hotch sighs, glancing over at you, dancing with Elle and Penelope, who are more focused on making sure you don’t fall. Gideon grabs his jacket, sliding it on.

“It was a hard case for her; she needs to let off some steam. Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” Morgan asks, leaning over to Spencer.

“I don’t really drink.” Spencer shrugs, flicking his finger against the smooth of the glass. His eyes trained on the straw in your cup. As much as he wanted to convince himself that you gave him your drink on purpose, it was just too unlikely for him to really dwell on it. 

Except he did dwell on it. 

His eyes slid over to you. Your hair fell over your face as you danced around, your features illuminated by the dim lighting, and your soft eyes shone as you smiled. Spencer isn’t sure how to feel about you being so drunk. 

On one hand, you were pretty much catatonic after your interaction with the unsub. You sat next to him in the jet, staring down at your dirt-covered hands, completely still for the almost 3-hour flight.

On the other hand, he knew you were only drinking to try and get the awful taste out of your mouth. The terrible twisting of your stomach that caused you to dry-heave in the jet’s lavatory for half an hour before takeoff. 

Gideon stands from his place at the end of the booth; he rounds the table and leans down to speak with Spencer. “You’re in charge of her.” 

All Spencer can do is nod, as Gideon leaves quickly after with not much more than a wave. But as you made your way back to the table, somehow finding your way between Reid and Morgan in the booth, he couldn’t help but feel relief.

He handed you the drink, and you took a small sip before turning your whole body towards him and looking him directly in the eyes. 

“Did you try it?” You asked seriously.

“No- No, I didn’t.” Spencer shakes his head, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“Whaat??” You pulled back, your face contorting into stern confusion. “You have to try it, now—here, here.” 

You held it out to him, your fingers delicately holding the straw for him.

Ignoring the snickers from the others, Spencer leans in and takes a small sip. The tequila burns, but it’s rounded out nicely by the sweetness of the grenadine and the soft tart flavor of the orange juice.

Clearing his throat, Spencer speaks, “Originally, tequila sunrises contained tequila, lime juice, soda water, and créme de cassis when it was initially invented at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel in the 30s or 40s.”

You stared at him as he spoke, wide-eyed with your lips slightly parted. You blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to follow what he was saying.

“The modern tequila sunrise was popularized in the 70s by the Rolling Stones when they were kicking off their tour at a bar in Sausalito, California.” You nodded slowly at his explanation, your lips pulling into a bright smile as you set your cup down on the table. 

He didn’t really think you understood that. But your face shone like the first burst of light at dawn, waking the morning flowers from the chill of night.

His face warms, looking away from you to glance around the bar. Morgan taps your shoulder, grabbing your attention. Using his hands to shield your ear, he whispers something to you, causing you to break out into a fit of loud giggles. Derek shushes you, laughing along.

Your hands find your face as you slump back into the booth, muffling your laughter into your palms. After laughing for a good five minutes, you drop your hands into your lap. Your face was flushed, your eyes moist with laughter-filled tears. Your lips are pulled into a bright, sloppy smile, your teeth shining against the dull light of the bar. A few strands of hair fell into your face.

Derek looked proud of himself, shooting Spencer with a knowing look. Gesturing to you, mouthing ‘go for it’.

Spencer ignores him, looking around the bar in an attempt to ignore the flushed beauty beside him. But you turn, grabbing his arm. 

“Spencer,” You shake him a bit, trying to get his attention. He was already looking at you, but you shook him anyway. “Spencer, Spencer, where’s Gideon?”

“Uhm, he left a few minutes ago.” 

“Oh, boo, how lame." You pout, your hand still firmly holding Spencer’s bicep. You turn your head, eyeing your drink. A grin creeps slowly onto your face.

“Don’t get any ideas. You’re still cut off.” Hotch interjects, noticing the way you were eyeing your glass. 

You deflate immediately, slumping into the seat, your hands falling into your lap as you pout. Spencer watches you, a little amused but ultimately concerned with your shift in mood.

After letting you stew for a minute, Spencer turns to you, clearing his throat before opening his mouth to speak. He falters, however, when he sees your face. 

Your bottom lip juts out, glistening under the light and drawing his eyes. Downcast eyes steal his attention from your lips, leading him to your upturned palms. Your pout melts into a deep frown, your inebriated brain feeding the memories of what happened just 5 hours ago.

“Uhm,” Spencer starts, leaning over to point at your hands, “have you heard of palm reading?” His voice is unsure, wavering a little as you look up at him.

You both nod and shake your head, your eyes widening a little as he pulls you out of your thoughts. Putting your hands down on the seat, you push yourself up, giving Spencer your full attention. You stare at him for a second before scrambling to show him your hands again.

“It’s also called palmistry or chiromancy, and it’s unknown where it originated exactly.” Spencer bites his lip, glancing down at your palms. “But it has ties to a lot of eastern cultures.” 

“Like where?” You ask, your voice insistent.

“Indian, Tibetan, Chinese, Nepali, Persian, Babylonian, Canaan, Sumer, and Arabian cultures have history with palm reading.” He lists, watching as you slowly tilt your head down, trying to follow his words. Your eyes never leave his face, squinting slightly as his words slip in one ear and out the other.

Deciding to just keep talking rather than waiting for you to speak, Spencer continues, “Palm reading uses the natural creases in the flesh of your palms to predict things about your life and personality.” 

Spencer hesitates before placing his left hand underneath yours, settling his palm against the back of your hands. Chewing on his bottom lip, he uses his right hand to map out your palms. His index finger hovers, making sure not to touch the lightly calloused skin.

“Are my palms-” You lean a little closer, your eyes wide as your gaze flicks between his face and your hands. “Are my palms whispering to you?”

You were whispering to him—well, more like mumbling. Spencer furrows his eyebrows, leaning back a bit.

“Are your- are they what?” He stammers, a smile threatening to pull at the corners of his lips. You giggle, letting your head fall forward and rest in your open hands. You stay like that for a second to let it out before lifting your head again.

“You’re so cute, Dr. Reid.” A heavy sigh follows that statement, along with a sloppy grin. Before Spencer has the opportunity to flounder in response, you continue, “What were we talking about?”

“Um... Palm Reading?” His slender fingers tap against the back of your hands mindlessly.

You purse your lips, squinting your eyes just a smidge before smiling again. 

“Okay, okay, keep telling me about it." You scoot a little closer, folding one of your legs under you, your knee knocking against his thigh. “Please?”

Your face was still flushed, though Spencer wasn’t sure if it was from the tequila that still lingered on your breath or from the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

“Oh, yeah- yeah, sure…” He bites at his bottom lip, looking back down at your palms. “So... the main lines used for palmistry are the life line, the heart line, the fate line, and the head line…” 

Spencer continues talking, making sure to keep his gaze cast down to your hands as he explains what people look for when reading palms. You stayed quiet, and he was almost positive that you weren’t listening; honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had fallen asleep. 

He maps out each line for you after thoroughly explaining what each of them meant. Spencer didn’t really believe in palmistry or astrology, but he had to admit that so far it was pretty accurate.

Especially when your life line described you as enthusiastic and courageous. 

That was one of the many things Spencer admired about you. You had no qualms about being who you wanted to be, and it gave him the confidence to do the same.

Though sometimes you had a hard time remembering that about yourself.

“…and your heart line tells us about your cardiac health, possible depression, emotional stability, and, um… and romantic perspectives.” Spencer swallows, his shoulders slightly hunched as he looks intently at your palms. You straighten up, drawing his eyes to your face. 

Your lips parted, your eyes holding excitement as you looked down at your own palms. Glancing up at him and meeting his eyes, you smile, the tip of your tongue fitting between your teeth. 

“Keep going.” You whisper, nodding at him incessantly. Spencer pauses, unable to tear away from the light shine in your eyes, illuminated by the warm lighting hanging from the rafters of the bar.

“…your- your heart line, um,” he stumbles over his words, snapping his head back down to look at the crease in the fleshy part of your palm. “Your heart line begins in between your middle and index fingers, and it’s straight and parallel to your head line.”

Spencer finally presses the pad of his finger into your palm, dragging it along the crease as he talks. He still cradles your hand lightly with his other, his thumb absentmindedly sliding against your knuckles.

“Mm, what does it mean?” You ask sloppily, your articulation faltering.

“It means that you are... caring and understanding.” He slides his finger back to where the line begins, noticing how your fingers twitch. “And that you have a good handle on your emotions.” At that, you laugh, gently bumping your head against his as you do.

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You mumble, your head partially sliding against his as you slump into him. Spencer stiffens at the contact.

“Sorry, ‘m tired,” You wiggle your fingers, attempting to draw his attention back to your hands. 

“So, like- does it say anything about who I’m gonna… marry?” 

“No- uhm, no, not who.” Spencer swallows; the weight of your head dropping onto his shoulder scrambles his thoughts. “But the marriage line is here.” He slides his finger to the small line underneath your pinky.

“It’s pretty straight, which means that you’ll have a long, happy marriage.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down briefly at your palms before turning your hands over and wrapping your hands around his. Spencer looks up, making eye contact with Elle, who mouths a ‘wow’ before sipping her drink. 

His attention is drawn back to you as you drag yourself off of him haphazardly. You turn his hands, exposing his own palms as you lean down, hunching over them to get a closer look. 

There is almost no way you could even see the lines in his palms very well, considering that your head was blocking the lights. 

Lifting your head suddenly, Spencer has to pull back to avoid getting smacked in the face. 

“This line probably means that you’re suuper smart and stuff,” you say, tapping his head line with your pinky. “And this line probably says that you’re really cute, and this line probably says that you’re like… I dunno, a little silly." You alternate tapping at his different lines. You were trying—kind of. 

Spencer’s face grows hot, swallowing hard and trying to remind himself that this was just you, completely inebriated and not thinking straight.

“Silly?” He raises his eyebrows, watching your face with concern.

“Uhuh, silly. Like… like… I don’t know; you’re just silly. And gorgeous.” You look down at his hands and say, “And you have really pretty hands.”

Spencer stares at you, his mouth gaping like a fish as his eyes slide around your features. 

You blinked slowly, your hands sliding against his as you fidget with his slender fingers. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed way too loudly for the small bar. You pull yourself away from him, the force with which you do so causes you to tilt back and fall into Morgan. 

Spencer scrambles to grab your forearms, pulling you off of Morgan. “Are- are you okay?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“You don’t like it when people touch you!” You attempt to wiggle yourself out of his grip, failing despite how loose his hold was.

A deep pout rests on your lips, and you look up at him guiltily.

“No, it’s fine.” He tries to still you, embarrassed by your antics. “It’s okay; you’re fine, I don’t mind. Let's get you home, okay?”

“Huh?? No, no, I’m having so much funn” You flounder, slumping yourself into the seat in protest. You start to slide off the booth seat, your lower body disappearing under the table. 

Spencer stammers, hooking his arms around yours and attempting to keep you from slipping to the floor.

“Woah, no, come on, I’ll take you home and I can teach you how to read my palms?” He pulls on your arms, looking over at Morgan, who lends a hand by wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you back onto the seat. Morgan snickers, but leaves Spencer to handle your state of unrest.

“I already know enough about you, gorgeous-genius-doctor-boy, but can’t you dance with me?” You whine, Spencer’s arms are still hooked around you to keep you from slipping away again.

“I- well… No- no, not here, we can dance at your apartment?” he suggests, gently pulling you out of the booth.

You let him pull you, offering little help until he forces you to stand. Staring up at him with a pouty glare, you huff, the gears turning in your head.

“Promise?” You hold out your pinky, wiggling it at him. 

He relents, hooking his pinky around yours. You smile, latching your finger around his in a tight grip.

“Okay! Bye losers!” You shout at the rest of the table, unceremoniously dragging Spencer away. He attempts to grab his bag from the booth, but your grip is too tight. 

Elle manages to toss it to him, his hands fumbling to get a good grip on it as he’s wrenched through the exit of the bar.

“Wait, slow down!” He yelps, shoulder-checking the door as you tug him down the stairs.

“Come on, pretty boy, relax!” You laugh

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Northbound.” You say, deepening your voice and pointing to your right.

“That’s east.” Using his free hand, Spencer spins you to face him. “We’re calling a cab.”

You scoff, letting go of his pinky finally as you flail your arms at your sides.

“No, what, no- no, no, no, I’m not getting buried again, Spencer." You whine, the weight of your words slipping off your shoulders, numbed by the tequila in your system.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows raising slightly as he looks at you. Your loosened, drunken state could only mask your worries to some extent.

“You won’t be buried; I’m with you,” he says, placing his hands on your biceps.

“But you could get hurt... and I don’t wanna see your gorgeous face and body all... like... dead." Your articulation slips, words blending together. Tapping the tip of his nose with the side of your finger, you pout, shuffling your weight from foot to foot.

“I won’t die; I’m gonna get you home, and then you’re going to bed-“ A hand slaps over his mouth, a little harder than necessary.

“We’re dancing.” You say sternly, rubbing his mouth with your palm, when you realize that you hit him harder than intended. 

“Okay- okay, stop-stop doing that,” He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to the side. “I’m gonna get you home, and then we’ll dance.” 

Pleased, you hum lightly, closing your eyes. “Let’s do it, honey bee.” 

Spencer ignores the churning in his stomach as he leads you along the sidewalk. Your hand slides around his body as you circle around him. Up and down his chest, around his waist, and up his spine. It was dizzying how well you were circling him despite the alcohol coursing through your system. You only stumbled once or twice, grabbing onto him each time to steady yourself.

Spencer was having a hard time keeping it together; it was already hard enough keeping his feelings to himself day to day when you acted like a normal person. Drunk you was making everything way harder. He wondered if he told you exactly how he felt if you would remember.

You weren’t acting completely blacked out drunk, and Spencer had never seen you like this before. He was just glad you were a nice drunk. And mildly manageable.

He was very glad that your apartment was on the ground floor; he didn’t have to worry about getting you up stairs. You stood next to Spencer, your right hand against the white door, as you fumbled with your keys in your left. Pouting down at the object, you let out an annoyed huff, tilting your head to the side and squinting at the ring of keys.

“Who needs this many keys?” You grumbled, letting your fingers go slack as Spencer takes the keys from you. 

“You, apparently.” Spencer smiles, finding your door key and unlocking the door. He ushers you inside, his hand finding its way to rest on your back, pretty much pushing you through the doorway.

Kicking your shoes off, you turn to Spencer “Shoes off, Cowboy, we can’t have my carpeting get all grody.” 

Spencer nods, smiling at the nickname but ultimately ignoring it. He takes off his shoes, setting his bag next to them, before straightening up and beelining to your kitchen. Opening each cabinet, he finally finds your cups. You stumble your way to lean on the counter next to him, pursing your lips at him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, glaring at the cup in his hand as he fills it with water.

“Drink this,” Spencer holds it out to you. You just stare at it, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Please?” He sighs, pouting just a little. Your face lights up at his plea, your mouth falling open and your face flushing red.

"Spencer, you can’t do that, not fair.” You snatch the cup from him, chugging the water out of spite. Spencer watches you, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together in confusion. 

Slamming the cup onto the counter, you hold up your arms, “Okay! Dance time, come here!”

Spencer is dragged back into the living room, your hands firmly grasping his wrists as you walk backwards. He watches your path for you, maneuvering you gently to avoid your coffee table. 

Dropping his arms, you bow sloppily with a giggle, “May I have this dance?”

He chuckles, offering an awkward bow in response as he fumbles over his words, “Yeah- sure… okay.” 

You laugh, sliding your hands down his forearms, your fingers brushing against the center of his palms. Curling your fingers around his, you lift his hands, tugging him closer.

He swallows the lump in his throat as his chest presses into yours. Spencer chews on his bottom lip as you settle his hands on your waist. You smelled like tequila, but the scent of your shampoo still lingered in close proximity. You smelled good—drunk, but good.

“No music?” He asks, clearing his throat as your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“Nah, my head hurts." You shake your head, guiding him in a small sway. Spencer was a little worried that you were going to have him actually dance, but he was happy to sway along with you. 

Your apartment was dark, only lit by the weirdly bright fluorescent light from your kitchen. You giggled quietly to yourself as you swayed, finding it a little difficult to get him to move with you. His heart rate calms slowly as you both sway in silence. You had closed your eyes, threading your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing small circles into his skin. It was nice.

The heat of your body against his fills him with warmth, and he can’t help but look away. His eyes training on the light switch a few feet away as he wills his face to not get any redder. Your touch simmered against him, the low burning embers of his feelings threatening to ignite in the dark space of your living room. 

But you were drunk, and there was very little he could do to rationalize your actions beyond that. If you weren’t completely inebriated, Spencer might consider the fact that you might like him too. 

“Spencer,” you call out to him softly, goading him into meeting your eyes again. He couldn’t help but notice the gravity added to your previously weightless tone.

“Yeah?” He whispers his reply, his eyes returning to your face. The swaying continues, offering a loosely followed rhythm to the conversation.

“How did you feel?” You mumble back, letting your head fall back slightly. You keep your eyes on his face, scanning his expression.

“How did... what feel?” 

“Watching me crawl out.” You let out a small huff, as if he were supposed to read your mind, “Like, how did it feel for you?” Spencer freezes, his hands tightening their grip on your waist.

It felt awful.

Watching you, his headstrong, kind, confident, and loving friend, crawl your way out of a freshly packed grave. Hands bound, tears soaking mud to your cheeks, clothing torn, a hateful fire in your eyes.

It felt awful.

Watching you grapple with the unsub, using your bindings as leverage to choke the man out before crumbling to the ground in tears.

It felt awful.

Watching you bottle it up, riding to the hospital in silence, only letting the team touch you despite the insistence of the doctors. 

It felt awful.

Washing off your dirt-covered hands in the jet with a small rag he had found, soaked in the cold water from the lavatory sink. 

It felt awful.

But Spencer couldn’t claim that awful feeling, knowing that you must feel so much worse. You fought and fought for those two days you were held captive, feeding into the unsubs delusion to keep yourself alive.

You were the one who was thrown into a six-foot-deep hole and buried alive.

He’s not sure how to answer your question, but you watch him patiently, your fingers gently sliding down his neck. 

“I… I don’t know, I was- I was scared, worried..." He whispers, his stomach churning with the thought that he shouldn’t burden you with the way he was feeling. 

“You were scared…” Mumbling, you tilt your head to the side, your lips pursing and twisting to the side. “Is it bad… that you being scared for me, makes it hurt less?” Your articulation is off, and your words are almost lost to him. Inhaling sharply, Spencer leans forward a bit, his arms circling around your back and flattening against your shirt. 

“No, no, it’s not bad... How did it feel for you?” He asks carefully, watching your face as it contorts in ten different ways. You sigh heavily, your arms loosely resting on his shoulders.

“It’s the worst thing... you fight and you fight, you do what you can to survive... and then you get thrown in a hole and smothered in the earth.” You pout, tilting your head to the side, fiddling with your fingers behind his head.

Spencer bites his lower lip, his eyebrows raising in concern. He watches your face, your eyes glossing over, staring into the pattern on his tie. 

“Spencer… I dunno what to do with myself…” You murmur, pulling yourself closer and resting your forehead on his shoulder.

Tilting his head, his cheek presses into your hair. His hands press into your shoulder blades, giving you an awkward squeeze. 

“…you don’t have to know; we can just take it one step at a time.” He speaks gently, letting his hand circle over your shoulder blade.

“Ugh… your mouth words are so gorgeous…” You mumble.

Spencer isn’t really sure what you mean, but he decides to take it at face value. “Thanks?” 

You lift your head, a frown etched on your lips. As you look up at Spencer, the frown dissolves into a small smile. The bright lighting coming from your kitchen illuminates the side of your face in stark contrast to the rest of the dark room. 

“You’re so gorgeous in your face too.” You slide your hands around to bracket his face, squishing it a little between your palms. Spencer’s face grows hot under the feeling of your hands, his eyes widening a bit.

“If you ever, like- I dunno, do you ever think- like, think about kissing me? Cause… if you do, you should kiss me.” Spencer goes to respond, but you slap your hand over his mouth again, rubbing his mouth soothingly afterwards.

“When I’m sober! When I’m sober so I can remember and stuff…” You take your hand off his mouth, sliding the tip of your finger down the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh- uhm… yeah okay." He nods, biting his lip anxiously. His eyes flutter close at your touch, the heat of his emotions burning at the apex of his cheekbones.

You smiled sloppily up at him, content with the plan you set in place, guiding him into swaying with you again. Your finger traces his features loosely, your muscles relaxing into his touch as you start to come down from your drunken high. Tiredness crawls its way up your spine, settling into your eyelids, and you find yourself having a hard time holding them open. 

“When I wake up...” You start, letting your eyes fall closed, “…when I wake up, don’t- don’t let me push you away.” 

Spencer smiles at that, laughing affectionately at your words.

“Okay.”

[my-moony-and-padfoot]

To be with you

Word count: 2 500

Just a good old sick fic <3, hopefully you like it

“Moons?” Remus jumped slightly as he heard the voice. He wasn't expecting Sirius to be back yet, but hummed anyway, smiling at him though it faded as he took in the glassy eyes, slightly reddened nose and even paler skin than usually.

“What's up, love?” He asked, closing his book and setting it down onto the side table, Sirius sniffled, reaching for Remus' hand who gladly gave it to him, all the more worried at the lack of response from Sirius. “C'mere.” Remus whispered, pulling him to sit on his lap, the boy complied, curling up to Remus the best he could in the small space of the armchair. “What's wrong, baby?” He whispered into his hair, wrapping a protective arm around him, holding him close.

“Don' feel well.” He whispered quietly as he shivered.

“Aww, that's no good.” He held his hand up to his forehead for a moment, feeling how warm he already was. “You feel quite warm. What's bothering you?”

“My head hurts, throats all scratchy. I'm cold.” He mumbled, pressing himself closer to Remus, head tucked underneath his chin, as if seeking warmth off of his boyfriend. “Dizzy.”

Remus nodded, kissing his head. “Did James tell you not to go to practice?”

“Said I'd fall off my broom.” He yawned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Won't. I never do.”

“First time for everything, hmm? But, I'm siding with him on this one, you look like you'll pass out any minute.” Sirius shook his head.

“You're my boyfriend, you're supposed to be on my side.” He mumbled, and Remus laughed quietly, running his hand through Sirius' hair.

“Whatever you say.”

“M’right.”

“Of course you are. You're always.” He grinned, getting an annoyed, weak smack on his chest from Sirius. “I have some tea, wanna sip? Might help the sore throat.”

Sirius nodded, coughing slightly, as he sat up, Remus handed him the cup, and he held on with both hands, trying to be careful. “Thank you.” He whispered, taking a sip, the warmth soothing the growing pain nicely. Remus just smiled, kissing his temple and holding him by his waist.

“Should we go upstairs, have a little nap?”

“No.”

“No? Why not, baby? You're tired, and sleep always helps when you're poorly.” Sirius nodded, handing the mug back to Remus. “You can have it.” He said, knowing the boy had taken his offer of a sip a little too literally. Sirius smiled, taking another sip of the tea. “Why don't you wanna sleep?”

“Wanna be with you.”

“Who said I wouldn't be with you?” Sirius shrugged, not looking at Remus. “We can cuddle up better in bed, love. Get you a blanket to get you all warm, sound good?”

“You're warm rem.”

“Mm, maybe, but a blanket would be warmer.”

“We have to go to dinner soon.” He argued tiredly, glancing at Remus, who nodded, rubbing at his side.

“Are you incapable of walking back down from our dorm in a few hours?” Sirius nodded, reaching to set down the much emptier mug on the table, looking at Remus. “Why're you arguing with me on this, love?”

Sirius shrugged. “Wanna stay here.” He mumbled, leaning back against him, sniffling and wiping his nose into his sleeve.

“Okay.” He said, rubbing Sirius' side and kissing his head. “Lets move to the sofa at least, so you can-”

“No.”

He didn't even bother to ask why not because Sirius didn't often make sense when he was feeling sick. He often got emotional, and he'd argue against things that weren't exactly reasonable like moving to a much comfortable place.

“Okay baby.” He whispered. “Whatever you want. Can I at least grab you a blanket? You're shivering.” Sirius nodded, and Remus reached for the Gryffindor coloured blanket that was laying on the sofa next to them, draping it over Sirius and tucking it around him the best he could.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, curling up to Remus even more, head tucked into his neck. He wiped his nose into his sleeve before he pulled the blanket even better on him covering most of his face.

“Try to sleep, love. I'll wake you up in a bit, okay?” Sirius nodded, listening to Remus' calm breathing and the soft rustling of pages as he continued to read, it was comforting in a way.

It was difficult to fall asleep with the growing headache, the annoying pressure in his sinuses, and when he was so cold. But eventually, he managed to fall asleep, only to be woken up into a coughing fit an hour later. He sat up, coughing into his arm as Remus rubbed his back gently. When he stopped coughing Remus handed him the tea that was still warm, probably because of a spell, but Sirius wasn't sure.

“Better?” He nodded, sniffling as he handed the cup back to Remus before he leaned back against him. “I think you'd be better off in bed, love. Prop yourself up and get all comfortable, yeah?”

“Okay.” He whispered, rubbing his nose into his sleeve, to try to get rid of an itch. “But um- with you?”

“I'm going to go down to the kitchens first, then I'll be with you.” Sirius nodded. “Is there something you'd like to eat?” he shook his head this time. “You gotta eat something, baby.”

“No.”

“You do. Your idiot ass skips breakfast every morning, and you didn't eat well at lunch either, can I please get you something?”

Sirius nodded. “But cuddles?”

“Sirius, it'll take me less than half an hour, you'll survive.” He shook his head, sniffling. “What's the matter? Why don't you want to be alone even for a moment?”

“Don' feel well.”

“I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry about that, but it's not like you're gonna die if I'm away for a moment.” Sirius nodded, though reached up to wipe his eyes. “What's upsetting you, baby?”

“M’not sure.” He said, shaking his head. “My head's all- I can't think.”

“Okay. Hey Sirius, look at me?” Sirius lifted his head, looking at Remus, who brought his hand up to his forehead, then cupped his cheek. “You feel really warm, love.”

“My brain is melting.”

“Like you have one.” Remus smiled, leaning to kiss his forehead. “Let’s get you into bed, okay? I'm gonna go down to see Poppy, get something for that fever and-”

“Alone?”

“For a moment, pads.” He said. “It won't take me long, nothing bad will happen in half an hour, plus James and Pete are going to come up soon, practice is over. I can ask them to spend time with you if you really don't want to be alone.”

“I don't wanna get them sick.”

“We share a dorm, they're probably gonna get it anyway.” Sirius looked horrified at that, eyes widening as he looked at Remus.

“I'm gonna get you sick.” He whispered, his voice wavering with unshed tears. “Rem- why didn't-” He tried to get up in his panic, but Remus just pulled him back to sit back down.

“It's okay.” He soothed, slowly running his hand up and down his back to calm him down. “I don't mind. It's not like I'd leave you to tend to yourself when you're so sick just to avoid getting sick myself. And we share the same dorm, we sleep in the same bed, Sirius—I'd get it anyway.”

“Don't want to get you sick.”

“Always hits you and your poor immune system the worst, doesn't it? It's gonna be fine, even if I do get sick.” He said. “Not the end of the world, baby.”

“O-okay.”

“Besides, if we both get sick, we can force Jamie to take care of us.” Sirius gave him a small smile, feeling slightly better though he'd still rather keep his germs to himself. “Let's go to bed, yeah?” Sirius hummed, slowly getting up, almost doubling over as he sneezed into his arm. “Bless you, love. Here.” He smiled, handing him a tissue.

“Thank you.” He whispered, tucking the used tissue into his pocket, glancing at Remus as he got up, grabbing his things before taking his hand and leading him up to their dorm.

“You get comfy in bed, and I'm going to go see Poppy okay baby?” Sirius nodded slightly, looking up at him as he sat down onto the bed. “Gonna get you something to eat too.”

Sirius nodded again. “Promise to be back soon?”

“I'll be as quick as I can.” He smiled, kissing his forehead, knowing he was still nervous. “Don't worry so much, nothing's going to happen when you're alone.”

“You can't know that.”

“Just trust me baby, it's only the fever talking, yeah?” Remus said, brushing his hair back, as he nodded. “I can wait until James and Pete come back if you'd like.”

“ ‘s fine.” He sniffled, wiping his nose into his sleeve before looking back at Remus who looked really worried. “Be back soon.”

“I will.” He smiled, kissing his head before he left their dorm. Sirius quickly changed out of his clothes into something more comfortable and warm, then he crawled under the covers, trying to get himself warmed up. He couldn't find himself to fall asleep though, he was tired and really wanted to, but he couldn't, not without Remus being there. Besides, if he'd go to sleep now, he would be woken up soon anyway when Remus would come back so it was quite pointless.

He smiled slightly when the door opened, though it quickly faltered when it was only James, not that he was unhappy to see his best friend; just wasn't who he was waiting for right now. “Hi pads.” He said, smiling sadly before he walked over to his bed, stuffing his quidditch gear underneath. “Saw moony downstairs, he said you're not feeling well. See, I was right for once.”

“Shut up.” he whispered, turning to look at James, who grinned, looking at him from where his head peeked behind his bed. “Where was he?”

“About to go see Poppy I think, or maybe he was coming from there — didn't really catch it” He said, ducking back underneath his bed searching for something. “Me and Pete were going to play chess, have you seen my board? I thought I left it here.”

“On your nightstand.”

“Oh- ouch. Thanks, mate.” He said, rubbing the top of his head as he sat up. “I can stay with you if you don't wanna be alone. Or me and Peter could come up here, keep you company.”

“It's fine Jamie.” He whispered, stifling a cough into the blanket, before looking back up at James.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, gonna sleep anyway. It's fine.” He whispered, giving James a small smile, who nodded, grabbing his chessboard and turning to go back to the common room. He closed his eyes as the brightness from the lights James had turned on made his headache grow even more painful.

After a while, he heard the door opening, and he turned around in bed, looking up at Remus as he walked over to the bed. “Hi, baby.” He smiled, setting a plate and a cup onto the nightstand before sitting down on the bed. “I take it you're not feeling better?” Sirius shook his head, coughing into his arm. “Poppy gave me some medicine to give to you, got you some plain toast and more tea.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, slowly sitting up and grabbing the plate Remus had set down. “Moony? Could you um- braid my hair? It gets in the way an-”

“If you'd like.” He smiled. “I'll be right back, eat up.” Sirius nodded, watching as Remus got up and went to the bathroom, coming back a moment later with a glass of water, and a few hair ties. Sirius moved to sit near the edge of the bed, so Remus could braid his hair. He ate the rest of his toast while Remus' braided his hair, leaning against him when he felt him tie one of them off. “What baby?”

“Nothing.” Remus smiled, brushing his hair behind his ear from the side he had yet to braid. “Jus’ wanna be with you.”

“That's very sweet, love. But I do have to braid the other half of the hair before cuddling with you. Unless you want half of it to be tangled and all up in your face.” Sirius nodded, but didn't move, just kept staring up at him, sniffling after a moment and wiping his nose into his sleeve. Remus leaned to kiss his head, nudging him gently to get him to sit back up. “C’mon sit up, darling.”

Sirius did so, grabbing the teacup from the bedside table before Remus could start to braid his hair. He smiled when he felt Remus kiss the top of his head when the braids were done. He got back under the covers as Remus changed into more comfortable clothes before coming to sit down next to him, and Sirius could cuddle up to him.

“Medicine.” Sirius shook his head, hiding his face into Remus' stomach. “Yes. Poppy said you gotta take it. It'll make you feel better.”

“Won't.”

“Yes it will,” He said, running his hand over the braids he had just made. “Please love?” Sirius shook his head, mumbling something Remus couldn't really make out. “I won't give you cuddles if you don't take your medicine.”

“That's not fair.” He mumbled, but sat up, glaring at Remus as he handed him the small vial, but took a sip of it anyway. It tasted awful, so he was glad when Remus handed him a glass of water to wash off the taste. “You can't bully me when I'm ill.”

“I can always bully you.” He smiled, pulling Sirius into a hug and kissing his head. “How else would I get you to do things, hmm?”

“Ask nicely, dumbass.”

“Asking nicely doesn't work with you, darling now does it?” Sirius huffed, but leaned closer to him, curling up to Remus. “Aww, c'mon y'know I'm right.”

“You're not.”

“Sure,” He said, rubbing his back. “But look at you, I told you no cuddles, and you immediately take your medicine.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, coughing into his arm and closing his eyes. “ ‘m all fevered it's not fair.”

“Okay. I'll try to be nice to you.” He smiled, kissing his head as Sirius gave him a weak smack on the chest, he just laughed, holding him a bit closer. Remus slowly moved them so they could lay down, Sirius just curled up more to him, letting out a content hum when the blanket was pulled better over him. “You all comfy, baby?”

“Mm,” He mumbled sleepily, sniffling and rubbing his nose into Remus' shirt to get rid of an itch. “I love you, moons.”

“I love you more, angel.” He whispered, rubbing his side gently from under his jumper. “Try to sleep, yeah? You'll feel better after a bit of sleep.” Sirius nodded, hiding his face more, letting the quiet humming and a hand running over the braids lull him to sleep. “Sleep well.” Remus said, kissing his head before continuing to hum, knowing how noise helped Sirius sleep.

A/N:

Hellooo,

Hopefully you liked this, I did.

For once I have managed to write something without angst, quite weird isn't it? Maybe I'm finally evolving as a writer, or as a personal idk

Have a nice day/night/something, remember to take care of yourself<3

See you around, maybe.

<3

[luwritesstuff]

Hi! An eddie diaz x reader request for you. Reader has painful periods and eddie is there to comfort and take care of her, being really attentive. Thanks!

hope this has all of the comfort you were hoping for 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

to love you on my worst days

Eddie Diaz x reader

wc: 943

notes: mentions of periods/period pain, afab!reader, mild hurt/lots of comfort, no use of y/n

Being in a relationship as a first responder was not an easy task, but a relationship with two first responders was a beast of its own. Add a kid into the mix and your time together was rare. But your relationship with Eddie was worth it. Eddie was worth the 15-minute lunch dates and middle of the night catch ups. And once every two weeks, you both had exactly one day off together that lined up.

It was becoming a ritual at that point, spending that day together. It was hard to adjust to, only having one day to really savor your time together. But you and Eddie made it work, you learned to savor the small moments too. When Eddie left you notes between your shifts and you left Eddie leftovers for when he got home.

Your aligning off day took forever to get there; an atrocious week seemed to make the time drag on. So by the time that Wednesday came around, you needed Eddie like you needed air. You needed to wrap yourself around him and never let go. And naturally, as your luck would have it, your period started that Tuesday.

You knew it wouldn't ruin your time together. Eddie wasn't a child and rationally, you knew that you'd still enjoy your time together. But you weren't thinking rationally. Your hormones were fucked and your body was aching. Between an intense work week and your uterus contracting, you couldn't think reasonably and you couldn't hide your discomfort. So when Eddie came home, kissed your cheek and asked you what you wanted for dinner, you broke down.

Eddie’s instincts kicked in and he immediately thought the worst, which you really couldn't blame him for with how hard your sobs were wracking your body. “Baby, hey. Shh, what happened? Who got hurt?” He asked and dropped his bag in favor of pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

You silently thanked Eddie’s patience because you weren't in any rush to answer him, too busy shoving your face into his shirt and gripping it tightly in your hands. He rubbed your back dutifully, quietly shh’ing you every few moments. After probably too long, you were able to loosen your death grip on him and explain that no one was dead or dying, you were just being a baby about your period.

“Hey, you're not being a baby. You're in pain, honey,” he frowned and used his thumb to wipe up your remaining tears, “Why don't I run you a bath, hm? That usually helps a little bit, right?” He asked and you nodded pathetically. You didn't realize how much you needed him speaking reasonably until he was in front of you.

You were suddenly overwhelmed with relief and love that he was home and it brought another small wave of tears. “I just wanted to have a good day with you today and I'm so tired and I just,” you let out a defeated sigh and sagged against Eddie’s chest.

In the end, you didn't need to finish your sentence because there Eddie was, holding you together and bringing you to sit on the edge of the bath. “I'm sorry you're hurting, cariño. I know it's not what you planned, but we still have the whole day together,” he reminded you, carefully undressing you as he spoke. After pouring some of your bubble bath in and making sure it was hot enough, Eddie helped you into the bath and peppered you with kisses in the process.

You held on to his hand when he stood up to leave and he gave it a squeeze, “I'll be back, it's okay. I'm just gonna go change really quick and get you a drink, okay? Ten minutes, I promise.” Reluctantly, you agreed and settled until just your head was poking out of the bubbles.

Eight minutes later, Eddie was back with your pajamas ready on the counter and a warm drink that he slid into your hands along with painkillers. “Thank you,” you breathed out and reached out to hold his hand, “God, this week has just been insane and I thought I had another couple days before I started. How was your shift? Tell me about your day,” you requested, just wanting to hear Eddie’s voice and distract yourself from the pain. Eddie told you about his best and worst calls of the day and brushed his fingers through your hair as he spoke.

Once the water ran cold, Eddie was there to dress you in your pajamas and refill your hot chocolate. After taking you back to bed, he rubbed your back while you laid on a heating pad on your stomach. “A little better?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. You nodded and rolled over to bring him into a real kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered and tugged at him until he gave in and let his weight rest over you. With the heating pad now on your back and Eddie’s weight a comfortable pressure on you, you felt calmer than you had since two weeks ago since your last day off together.

“I love you too, amor. Take a nap, we can order takeout later and that movie you've been wanting to watch came out on Netflix,” Eddie spoke softly and waited until you dozed off to remove his weight and turn the heating pad off. You woke up pressed to his chest, feeling his light snores rumble through him. The two of you spent another half of the day in bed and the other half on the couch, with all of the love and affection you could ask for in between

[angieblogging]

when you lost control

read on ao3

summary -> Carol Danvers can keep her cool… just not when a guy obviously is hitting on her uninterested girlfriend.

pairing -> Carol Danvers/Reader (Established Relationship)

a/n -> If you guys could check out my pinned post, it would mean a lot <3 Also enjoy some protective & gay Carol. This is a very short one shot, like definitely shorter then my usual ones. ALSO TITLE IS A TAYLOR LYRIC (“when you lost control, red blood, white snow” aka “is it over now?”)

You and Carol have been a thing for quite a while, it was tough, she was busy a lot and not-on-earth a lot… But you made it work.

Finally there was a moment where both of you had free time, time to talk, to do anything and everything, so you figured a date is a good idea.

There was one bar in particular that you two haven’t visited yet in the area of your apartment, so that’s where you agreed to meet up, the only issue being that Carol was late. You didn’t expect her to be early, but at least on time. There wad a chance she had to cancel and you two were stuck not seeing each other again, but you still had hope.

Checking your phone made you even more anxious, especially when the time hasn’t changed. As the seat next to you was taken, your annoyance was growing, your disappointment, anger, everything that you weren’t meant to he feeling today is what you were feeling.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing alone?” A voice next to you caught you off-guard, you turned your head just to meet eyes with a man, you in fact didn’t know.

He was about your age or older, smirking at you, his eyes were busy in the mean time looking at your tight dress, which in fact was not for his to look at.

“Waiting.” You kept your tone cold, making sure to not seem interested, him continuing this conversation was the last thing you wanted.

“Well, why don’t I keep you company, hm?” He chuckled like he just said something funny, nothing about this was funny.

There was a pit growing in your stomach and you were just praying for the phone to ring, for your girlfriend to show up, however all you got left was sitting at a bar, stood up as of now and talking to a guy who wanted to score.

“No, thanks.” A polite smile appeared on your face for a moment, just enough for him to see it as an invitation to place his hand on your shoulder.

You could feel his cold fingers brushing over your shoulder, you wanted to run, just leave, instead you…froze. He was in fact talking, but you were in fact not paying attention, you just had to figure out a way to get out…Fast and safe.

The man got quiet, looking behind your back, at something you couldn’t see.

“Hey there, sweeth—“ He didn’t got to finish, as the woman behind you twisted his hand, the one placed on your shoulder before hand.

The blonde pushed him, with a lot of strength, as the guy yelled out for help, she moved closer whispering something into his ear before letting him go.

She turned to you, worry on her face, well after all maybe your date wasn’t ruined, just late.

“Carol.” You sighed in relief, as you shoulders relaxed and soon enough wrapped around the woman.

“Hi honey…” She whispered, her voice was calming you even more, you finally felt at home.

“God… He just came out of nowhere and I—“

“It’s fine… I say we get out of here, hm?” She smiles at you, leading you out of the bar.

The cold air hits your warm skin, making you shiver, the good side is that you get to wear your girlfriend’s jacket.

“So… What did you say to him?”

“Oh, you know… Only nice stuff…” She chuckled before opening the door to her passager seat for you.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Flare Up (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Asthmatic Reader

Summary: You have a flare up of asthma along with a cold. Matt takes care of you.

Warning(s): Descriptions of asthma and cold symptoms, fluff

Author's Note: The description of asthma is based on my own experience, including a flare up over the last couple of days.

Tagging: @itwasthereaminuteago

Flare Up

You woke up feeling terrible. Your entire torso ached like someone had been kicking you. That dull ache turned to pain when you started coughing. Deep, hacking coughs that felt like they lasted forever. When the fit was over, you were short of breath and feeling light-headed. But now you knew why your chest hurt so much. You had been coughing in your sleep. No matter you didn’t feel like you had slept at all and why your throat felt scrapped raw.

You tried to take a deep breath but that only made you cough again. It wasn’t as long as the previous bout of coughing but it still left you aching. You could hear the wheeze in each breath. You needed to use your inhalers. You sat up and turned toward your bedside table, opening the top drawer.

The first one you grabbed was the rescue inhaler. Holding it in your hand, you started giving it a good shake but had to pause to ride out another coughing fit. When it stopped, you finished giving the inhaler its shake. Raising it to your mouth, you took a breath at the same time as you pressed down on the canister. You took a few more breaths, then another puff from the inhaler.

You sat it down, grimacing. You hated the taste of the medicine. You were more neutral about the way it made your heart race and gave you the sensation that you were trembling even when you weren’t. But you accepted all of that for the easing of the tightness in your chest. It didn’t magically fix everything. You were still coughing. Your entire chest and back still hurt. The medicine in your rescue inhaler couldn’t really effect the inflammation deeper in your lungs.

If you kept having this much trouble breathing, you would do a breathing treatment. It was the same kind of medicine but the nebulizer machine helped it get further into your lungs. If you remembering what the doctor had told you correctly. You thought it might be a larger dose than your inhaler delivered but you couldn’t remember.

You grabbed your second inhaler, the maintenance one which held a different, longer-acting medicine. But when you pressed down on the canister, you got nothing. Feeling confused, you took a closer look and realized that it was out of doses. A quick check of drawer didn’t reveal a box with a new one in it. How, you had that prescription on auto-fill at the pharmacy . . . then you remembered. You had gotten the text telling you that your prescription was ready but had forgotten to go pick it up. It had been hectic week.

The opposing party had backed out of the pending settlement agreement at the last minute. One of their new case had Burke & Winthrop Associates on the other side – something that made all of you groan. Not because you couldn’t take them but because they were always a massive pain in the ass. Spider-Man’s girlfriend had been accused of punching a cop. Not that the cops knew about the girlfriend part but you did. This meant a certain amount of hovering from the aforementioned vigilante, both in and out of costume. Not because he didn’t trust Nelson & Murdock to help his girlfriend but because Peter, like Matt, was a worrier. It didn’t help that the ADA was dragging their feet about providing certain discovery materials – like the officer’s body cam footage . . .

His hovering had come in handy the other night when, due to some complicated series of events that you still weren’t clear on, something had started making a loud, ear-piercing shriek. The criminals, who hadn’t been expecting it either, had their hands clapped tightly over their ears. But Matt was completely down, writhing on the ground and almost biting off his tongue trying not to scream. Now Spider-Man wasn’t a huge fan of loud noises either but he darted over anyway. Got the noise stopped, webbed up the criminals, and hauled Matt back home. It took the rest of night for the resulting vicious migraine to subside.

You had felt a little off yesterday but you had chalked it up to being tired. It had been busy week. You had stayed up helping take care of Matt during his migraine. You had decided to stay the night in your apartment last night beside knowing that you slept better at Matt’s because you were still paying rent on the place and it seemed silly to never stay there . . .

You wrapped yourself up in your robe, put on a pair of fuzzy socks, and shuffled toward the kitchen. Hot drinks always eased your symptoms during an asthma flare up. The normally quick task of putting on coffee went slowly because the slightest hint of exertion left you feeling short of breath and brought on another coughing fit.

While the coffee brewed, you went into the bathroom. You hadn’t noticed it immediately – feeling like you could barely breath had understandably distracted you – but you might also gotten sick. You were a little congested. Your face felt tender across the top of your cheeks and forehead. There was feeling of pressure in your ears. All things you had experienced when you had a cold or similar infection. But sometimes seasonal allergies gave you the same symptoms.

Illness, allergies, or both could have easily triggered this flare up.

You took a pill for an allergy relief along with a multi-symptom cold. Unfortunately it was the last dose of cold medicine. You would have to get more before this one wore off. You were not looking forward to it. But maybe you could get some fresh lemons while you were getting your medicine. Hot tea with honey and lemon always felt so good on your throat when it was this sore. You had tea and honey but no lemons . . .

Your phone started ringing. It was, of course, nowhere close to you being still hooked onto the charger on the other side of the living room. You sighed and started heading toward it. You barely managed to reach it before it switched over to voicemail, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?” you said, wincing at how bad your voice sounded. Croaky as a frog.

“Sweetheart, you sound terrible.”

Matt. And he sounded like he had already slipped into worrywart mode.

“Matches how I feel,” you said, then winced for another reason. It hurt to talk.

“What’s wrong?”

“Asthma flare up,” you said. “Cold.”

You felt a tickle in your throat. You tried to swallow, to prevent the oncoming coughing fit and making Matt more worried than he already was. But you couldn’t stop it. Worse luck, it was a bad one. The coughs were deep, barking, seemed to have no end in sight. You couldn’t breath. Darkness crept into your vision and the room swayed . . . then it stopped. You could take a breath. A ragged, thin breath but a breath.

You leaned against the wall, rubbing your chest. That one really hurt. Your chest felt like it was on fire and your throat felt like you had tried to gurgle with glass. Tears pricked at your eyes . . .

Then you realized that you had dropped your phone. Bending down to pick it up didn’t help with your dizziness but you had to get it before Matt had an actual heart attack. As it was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was already darting out of the door to parkour to your apartment.

You heard his fanatic voice before your phone got up to your ear.

“-heart, answer me!”

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t,” he retorted.

Which was fair. Hearing your own voice – wheezy, faint, and croaky as a frog – you wouldn’t believe you either.

“I’m coming over.”

“Matt,” you started to protest, not wanting him to get sick, but was cut off by another bout of coughing. Not as bad or as long this time but so close on the heels on the previous one, it hurt just as bad. Some of the tears escaped your eyes.

“I’m coming over,” he repeated, his voice firm and unyielding. You gave up trying to argue. It would be a total waste of energy. You recognized that tone. Matt had found his hill. He was ready and willing to die on it.

“Okay,” you said.

“Have you used your inhalers?”

“Yes.”

He made annoyed noise. “Partial lie.”

“Used rescue inhaler,” you retorted.

“What about the other one?”

“Out of doses.”

“Don’t you have that on auto-fill?”

“Yes,” you said. “Forgot to pick it up.”

You swallowed, trying to sooth your throat. Your voice was getting rougher.

“I’ll get it,” he said. “Do you need anything else?”

“Medicine,” you said. “Lemon.”

“Get some rest sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Rest sounded really good right now. Your bed had more pillows and blankets but the couch was much closer. You shuffled over to it, wrapped yourself in the cuddling blanket and sat down. You rested your head against the back and closed your eyes. You were just going to rest them for a moment . . .

You must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, the door to your apartment was opening to admit Matt, a shopping bag in his hand. Unless it was windy outside, you suspected that he had taken shortcuts getting here. His hair had that windblown quality you associated with him using his ninja skills while in his civilian grab.

“Hey Matty,” you said.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said back, giving you a little smile. It wasn’t his big smile, the one that lit up his entire face. He couldn’t smile like that when he was worried. “Your lungs sound even worse up close. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

“No.”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“No,” you repeated but was prevented from elaborating by coughing. Which probably didn’t help your case. “Just gonna tell me to do what I’m gonna do here. Rest, breathing treatment, etc.”

He didn’t look convinced. You glared at him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see it. It was the principle of thing.

“I’ve had asthma since I was a baby,” you said. “I know the drill.”

“Alright,” he said, either surrendering or making a strategic retreat. Probably the later. You had little doubt that he felt like your home treatment wasn’t doing enough, going to the hospital would come back and this time it would not be negotiable. “Where is your nebulizer?”

You told him where to find it and the liquid medicine. Both of which he brought to you. While you set up the machine, you started feeling like you were forgetting something. Something important . . . you suddenly bolted upright as you remembered. “Court!”

“What?” Matt asked, confused by your sudden panic.

“I have court this morning,” you said. You looked at the clock and groaned. You’d never make to the courtroom in time. “I’m going to be late.”

“No, you aren’t,” Matt said, moving back into the living room. “I called Foggy on the way here. He’s going to cover you at the hearing and the appointments that Karen can’t reschedule.”

“Really?” you said.

“Really really,” he answered.

“What about your appointments, Mr. Murdock?”

“Karen’s working on it. She’ll let me know if I need to come in.”

That was that. You finished setting up the machine, opened the capsule of medicine and poured it into the cup. You screwed on the mouthpiece and flicked on the machine. A familiar, droning and hissing sound filled the air and soon steam began to appear around the mouthpiece. You put it in your mouth and dutifully inhaled the medicine. Despite the fact that it didn’t taste any better like this than it did in puffed form. And it dried out your mouth something awful.

But you were well aware that it was either do the breathing treatment here or at the hospital. You’d rather do it here, where you were comfortable. Matt surprised you by sitting down beside you. The nebulizer wasn’t exactly loud to your ears but it wasn’t whisper-quiet either. But if the noise or the smell of the medicine bothered him, he gave no sign of it. Just rubbed your sore back and sides with his big, warm hands until the treatment was done.

Soon afterward, you had a mug of hot tea with lemon and honey in your hands. Part of you wanted coffee but knew the tea would feel better on your throat. While you sipped the tea, Matt quietly suggested putting something on and cuddling on the couch. Which you thought was best idea he had ever had.

You decided to put on a series of nature documentary, ones about the oceans. There was something about watching pretty fish and other marine critters accompanied by soft-spoken narration that you found relaxing. And that pretty much set the pattern for the day. You watched a program about ocean animals, drank hot tea or ice water, and cuddled with Matt on the couch. Sometimes you dozed off. Sometimes you coughed again and Matt’s hands would rub your back until it was over.

You didn’t have to get a single drink. It seemed like you tried to get up for anything over than a trip to the bathroom, Matt was giving you the worried face. You hated the worried face. And you had almost no defense against his big hazel eyes looking sadly at you. It helped that you didn’t really want to argue with him about pampering you all day anyway.

That pampering had extended to the hot shower you decided to take partway through the day in hopes of feeling less like crud. With how much your chest still ached, it was nice not to have to bend down to soap up your legs. Through seeing Matt on his knees in front of you, nearly naked, while the water poured down around you, gave you certain thoughts. Thoughts that you made a mental note to revisit when you felt better.

Matt washing your hair and massage your scalp eased discomfort that you hadn’t entirely realized was there until it was gone. The oversized tee shirt and sweatpants he grabbed didn’t match but you couldn’t care less. They were some of your softest, most comfortable clothing and that was more important than matching.

After Matt had dried himself off and redressed, you took the opportunity to hug him. While surprised, it didn’t take him long to return the hug.

“I love you,” you said softly, burrowing your face into his chest. His arms tightened around you, holding you closer.

“I love you too,” he said. Low and quiet, almost like he was afraid that if he said it too loud, that if anyone beside you heard how much he cared, that something awful would happen. Your arms did their own tightening.

You didn’t know how long you both stood there, in your little bubble of lingering steam and whispered confessions, before your stomach decided to ruin the mode by growling loudly. You felt your face flush but Matt just chuckled.

“Lunch?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you said.

Lunch ended up being potato soup, fresh from your favorite cafe and delivered by Karen. She let Matt know that she had managed to rearrange his schedule so he didn’t need to come in. Foggy sent the message that he hoped you were feeling better and not to order dinner since that mother would be sending over her famous chicken noodle soup. You hadn’t had it yet but Matt swore it was delicious.

He was right. It was delicious. Not complicated but it was amazing how good something could taste if made from fresh ingredients. The pumpkin cookies that she also sent along tasted just as good.

‘Being sick will always suck,’ you mused as you dozed on the couch, snuggled in Matt’s arms. ‘But sometime it doesn’t completely suck.’

Still, you felt like you should apologize a week later when Matt came down with your cold.

[trashyswitch]

Day 7: Fidget

Virgil had been fidgeting all day, and Patton is worried about him. When he asks Virgil what's bothering him, he's left completely shocked by the answer, but still eager to help.

A day late...Could be worse. I hope you enjoy! And Sanders Sides is back for Tickletober!!!

Patton had been aware of Virgil’s quirks for a while now. He knew that any sort of loving action would make Virgil embarrassed and surprised. He knew Virgil didn’t really like hugs, unless it was a special occasion. And Patton especially knew that Virgil fidgets when he’s really anxious or nervous. 

And Virgil had been fidgeting a lot lately…

One day, Patton decided to sit down beside Virgil while he was playing a video game. 

“Hey kiddo.” Patton greeted. 

“Hey.” Virgil muttered, flicked his wii remote to the right, watching the screen as the dog ran down the field. 

“Playing frisbee?” Patton asked. 

“Yup.” Virgil muttered, grunting as the frisbee hit the ground before the dog could catch it. “I keep messing up.” 

Patton looked towards Virgil with slight worry. “Would it be easier if you stood up and played?” 

Virgil sighed and threw the frisbee again. “Nope. I don’t want to.” Virgil replied, watching the dog run for the frisbee. “Come on, come on, come on-” Virgil let out a breath. “Oh thank god…She got it.” Virgil mumbled. 

Patton smiled and clapped his hands. “Yay!” He cheered. 

Virgil smiled slightly and picked up the frisbee before throwing it. “Go on.” Virgil told him. 

Patton looked at Virgil. “Huh?” 

Virgil looked to Patton. “I assume you wanted to talk about something?” Virgil asked him. 

Patton was a little thrown off guard. Maybe his intentions were more obvious than he thought. “Y-Yeah…I did.” He replied. 

“Okay. Then shoot.” Virgil told him. 

Patton sighed and looked down at his own lap. “What’s been bothering you lately?” Patton asked. 

Virgil took the frisbee and threw it again. “Nothing’s been bothering me.” Virgil told him. “Why?” He asked, looking over at Patton while the frisbee soared in the air. 

“Well…you’ve been very fidgety lately.”  Patton admitted. “I thought you might’ve been anxious about something.” He explained further. 

Virgil looked at the high score. “When was I fidgeting?” Virgil asked, clicking the home button to go to the home menu. 

Patton bit his lip. “Earlier today, when we were lying on the couch.” Patton told him. 

Virgil froze for a moment, staring in front. He slowly put down his wii remote and looked at Patton. “Uhhh…” Virgil bit his lip and lowered his head slightly. “Well…” 

“Why were you anxious?” Patton asked. 

Virgil let out a shaky breath as he recalled what was going on in that moment. His head had been all over the place during that hour. He could remember the exact words that were filling his mind while he laid with Patton on the floor of his room. 3 simple little words wouldn’t stop repeating themselves…

“Virgil?” He heard beside him. “You’re doing it again…” Patton told him. 

Virgil looked down at his own hands, and noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers again. He supposed just the thought of those 3 words were enough to make him act like this. Dammit…why do his hands always reveal his inner anxiety? Sensing no other option, Virgil finally spoke up. “It’s…not what you think it is…” Virgil tried to explain. 

Patton tilted his head. “Oh?” 

Virgil let out a breath. “It’s not…It’s not anxiety…It’s a nervous tick.” Virgil admitted. 

Patton softened his expression a little bit. “A nervous tick?” 

Virgil nodded his head. “I was nervous because…I wanted to ask you for a favor.” He slowly explained. He huddled his hands closer to his chest as he finally sputtered out the words. “P-Pleasetickleme…” 

Patton widened his eyes. “What? Can you repeat that?” He asked. Patton thought he had caught the words, but he really needed to triple check. 

Virgil whined. “Can-Can you please tickle me?” Virgil asked, looking at Patton with a look of desperation and fear in his eyes. His fidgeting had intensified from this question alone. He looked like he was going to explode if he didn’t fidget. 

Patton raised his eyebrows and slowly smiled. “Really?” Patton tilted his head slightly with a look of curiosity. “You want me to tickle you?” He asked. 

Virgil whimpered and hid his face with his fidgeting fingers. “Mm…Mhm…” He mumbled. 

Patton’s smile grew teeth as his whole face brightened. He walked up to Virgil and very gently grabbed his outer elbows. “Virgil…” 

Virgil tensed up slightly, fearing the worst. He knew Patton wouldn’t ridicule him…but he knew very well that Patton could tease him…Or worse, Patton may reassure him with a saddened tone of voice. Though he knew Patton meant well, the saddened tone would tell Virgil that Patton felt betrayed. Patton likely thought Virgil already trusted him…and if that were the case, then why didn’t Virgil ask him earlier? All of these were thoughts that went through Virgil’s head. 

Patton let out a slow breath. “Do you trust me?” Patton asked him calmly. 

Virgil opened his eyes with slight surprise. “Y-Yes…I do.” he replied. 

“Okay.” Patton almost whispered. Patton very gently moved Virgil’s hands down, and placed both his hands onto his shoulders. “Where would you like me to tickle you?” Patton asked him with a gentle smile. Everything about Patton’s attitude was non-threatening…more non-threatening than usual. It was…a little odd, but not unwelcome. 

Virgil looked at Patton as he lowered his hands with a small blush. “Uhhh…” He giggled a little bit. “My…My neck…” He admitted. 

Patton smiled brightly. “Feather? Or fingers?” He asked next, summoning a feather in his left hand while wiggling his right fingers. 

Virgil smiled a little bit more as his blush deepened. “Hehehe…Hehehe…F-Feheather please…” He muttered awkwardly. 

Patton moved the feather to his right hand. “Now:” Patton pointed the end of the feather at his face. “I’m only gonna tickle you, if you let me. Meaning you’re not allowed to hide your entire neck.” He warned. “You can hide one side of the neck, but not your whole neck. Okay?” Patton explained. 

Virgil nodded his head. No hiding his whole neck. That’s doable. “Okay.” he replied. 

Patton started right away. He started off fluttering the feather right under his chin. “Tickle tickle tickle~” Patton teased. 

Virgil squeaked and hid the front of his neck. “eEEK! Nohoho!” He giggled. 

Patton smirked. “How about…” Patton fluttered the feather on the right side of his neck. “A flutter-flutter-flutter here?” Patton teased. 

Virgil giggled and curled to the right. “Hehehe! Hehehehe-!” 

“Awww, such a cute little giggle!” Patton teased. “Maybe a little flutter here?” Patton moved the feather to the left side. 

“Hehehe- hahahaha!” Virgil’s giggles grew into laughter as the feather fluttered against his lower neck, and up towards the jawline. “Pahahahat- Hahahaha! Hehehehee!” Virgil looked away from Patton, too embarrassed to even look at Patton at this moment. 

But Patton didn’t really need to look very hard. He knew Virgil was embarrassed about this whole thing…And despite all his reassurance, Patton knew he’d never believe him. But the fact that Virgil wasn’t covering up his entire face with his hands, told him everything. Virgil didn’t feel a need to completely cover his face because…there was a little bit of trust there. Virgil trusted him enough to off-handedly show Patton his flustered face. 

Patton’s feather fluttered down the jawline, back towards the chin. 

“Hehehehe! Pahahahat-!” Virgil laughed. 

“Yeeeeesss?” Patton responded. 

“Ihihihit ticklehesss!” Virgil told him. 

“Really?!” Patton gasped. “You mean to tell me…” Patton fluttered the feather against his lower neck. “THIS tickles you?!” Patton reacted. 

Virgil covered his mouth and squealed. “Pahahahat!” He shook his head. “Nohohoho teheheheasihihihing!” Virgil reacted. 

Patton giggled. “No teasing? But that’s not fair!” Patton gently placed his fingers under Virgil’s chin to keep it up, before fluttering his feather under the chin. Virgil bursted out giggling and laughing right away. “Pahahahat! *snort* Cohohome ohohohohon!” Virgil giggled. 

“You poor, unfortunately ticklish soul!” Patton teased, somewhat referencing Ursula from The Little Mermaid. “♫So shy, so thrilled~!♫” Patton sang in the same melody as the song. “♫This one wanted to be tickled-♫” Patton pointed to Virgil. “♫-This one chose to trust his dad-♫” Patton pointed to himself. “♫And do I help him?♫” Patton fluttered the feather in Virgil’s face. “♫Yes indeed~♫” Patton declared as he tickled the front of his neck. 

Virgil snorted again and squeezed his eyes shut. “Mehehehehean.” Virgil mumbled. 

Patton tilted his head while raising an eyebrow. “Mean, huh?” Patton asked. 

“Yehehehes!” Virgil replied. 

“That isn’t mean.” Patton got rid of the feather and tickled both sides of his neck with his fingers. “Now THIS is mean.” Patton declared. 

Virgil squealed and cackled, trying to stop his fingers with his hands. “HAHAHAhahaha! Hahahaha- Nahahaha!” Virgil snorted and gave up his defenses to cover his mouth instead. His stupid snort was making itself known, and he didn’t really like it. Patton stuck out his lower lip. “Aww…I like your snort.” Patton admitted. 

Virgil opened his eyes and took one glance at his Padre’s sad face…and sure enough, that was all that was needed to drop his defenses. Virgil slowly removed his hands from his face, showing Patton the visibly red face in its entirety. 

“There it is!” Patton tickled under his chin a little, before booping his nose. 

Virgil giggled a bit at the chin tickles, before going cross-eyed with surprise at the nose boop. “Huh?” Virgil looked back towards Patton. “O-Oh…Heheh…” 

Patton placed his hands onto his cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?” Patton asked him. 

Virgil bit his lip and looked away slightly. “Uhh…N…No…” He mumbled. 

And that was all that was required to continue the neck tickles. 

[wangxianficrecs]

coop d'état by wolfsan11

coop d'état

by wolfsan11 (@wolfsan11)

G, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: “Lan Zhan?!” Wei Wuxian asked in some strange smear of horror and delight. Never let it be said that he wouldn’t approve of his husband’s rule-breaking, but it wasn’t often that Lan Zhan did it so blatantly. Last he’d checked, No pets allowed in the Cloud Recesses was still a valid rule amongst the 4000 or so carved on the wall by the entrance. Lan Wangji remained silent until they were right up against the low wooden fencing that seemed to have sprung up there overnight. “I have not stolen these ones,” said Lan Wangji, which was at least a little reassuring considering the last chicken gifts, fair enough, but still did not really explain the situation! Or, Wei Wuxian finds himself the proud of owner of five chickens, while Lan Wangji defies the government (his uncle). Kay's comments: Came for a cute post-canon story where Lan Wangji got Wei Wuxian some chickens stayed when I realised that the chickens were actually therapy. This story really gets you about half-way through and I absolutely love it. Very cute and thoughtful! Also, I think Wei Wuxian should get some pets too and the chickens really fit him well and I love how they become part of making the Cloud Recesses more of a home for him Excerpt: “I was told they are an agreeable breed. Very accustomed to loud noises,” Lan Zhan said finally. Taken off guard by the teasing, Wei Wuxian burst into laughter. None of the chickens made a single sound of alarm at his cackles though, too busy in their search for bugs. Perhaps they were too used to the hustle and bustle of human life to be bothered by the Cloud Recesses’ dead silence. If anything, the silence must unsettle them more. Wei Wuxian leaned forward to appraise them, resting his chin atop his arms on the wooden fencing. “What will your shufu say, bringing pets into the Cloud Recesses?” he asked. “Are farm animals and pets the same?” Lan Zhan said, dodging his question with one of his own. Then, quieter, “Regardless, shufu will not say anything. Refusing a gift would be rude and rudeness is not allowed in the Cloud Recesses.” Wei Wuxian had to grab his husband to keep from falling over. “Lan Zhan, your uncle really has no idea what kind of rebel he’s raised,” he managed through a wheeze. Lan Wangji’s smooth jade face indicated nothing of the smugness radiating within him, but Wei Wuxian could read it all the same. Neither of them spoke on why such a gift was made at all.

pov wei wuxian, post-canon, fluff and humor, established relationship, married lan wangji/wei wuxian, mild hurt/comfort, chickens, wei wuxian gets therapy, in the form of chickens, pets, caring lan wangji, good significant other lan wangji

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[steviewashere]

27,28,32 Eddie finds out he’s pregnant and tells Steve

Oooo, okay, I had so much fun with this one! And, get this, it's not almost three thousand words!

27: "I'm pregnant.", 28: "Marry me?", 32: "I think I'm in love with you and I'm terrified."

Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Trans Eddie Munson, FTM Eddie Munson, Pregnant Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy Announcement

————— This is definitely not how Eddie thought he’d start his day.

He’s in the bathroom of his and Steve’s apartment, just sat with his head in his hands to accommodate the wave of nausea that overcame him. And that’s when he got the smart idea that…well, maybe he should figure out why he’s been so sick the last week or so. Steve’s still asleep in their bed. Came home late from work, wanted to sleep in on his day off, and already knew that Eddie was sick.

But didn’t know that it was because Eddie’s period was late. He had a sneaking suspicion that there was something wrong, when he didn’t have to put a pad in his underwear, but he thought it could be from PCOS or something unrelated. It’s not. Which is evident in the stupid plastic stick in his shaking hands, lightly glistening from his own urine, and definitely showing two prominent dark pink lines. He’s crying at eight in the morning, holding a stick in his hand, sick to his stomach, and shaking.

Whimpering, he knows that there’s no way he can avoid this. Steve is too observant for his own good. He’ll figure out something’s wrong or changed. And he’ll be too good, too sweet, and Eddie knows he’ll run. So he’s going to face this. Just like he did with the demobats. Facing this is half the battle. Finding out Steve’s reaction is the other half.

He exits the bathroom, stick in hand, but stops short in the open space of their room. At Steve on his belly, snoring smooth into his pillow, blanket pooled at his waist, nude skin golden with sunlight that peers through the window. God, he’s so beautiful; Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself if Steve rejects all of this. Carefully, he gets back in bed quietly, not even jostling Steve’s body. He sets the test on his bedside table, hovers a hand over Steve’s back, and swallows down the soft sob that wants to override him.

Gently, he runs a languid stripe down Steve’s spine. “Baby,” he whispers, “Stevie, sweetheart? I need you to get up.” He takes a stuttering breath as Steve stirs, rolling over on his right side, blinking his eyes sleepily. Steve yawns, stretches, rubs fists over his eyes. A pout present on his features. Eddie feels awful for having to wake him up so early, but he thinks he’ll throw up if he has to keep this a secret any longer. “Okay,” he exhales. His breath shutters. “Okay, Steve, I need you to listen to me.”

At that, Steve blinks completely awake. Sits himself up against his pillow. Hands already grasping for Eddie’s. Face blank of anything teasing. Eyes going soft and concerned and imploring.

“Um—I—I think I’m in love with you—“

Steve chuckles. “Baby, I already knew that,” he lightly teases. But the small quirk he had to his lips dissipates almost as soon as it appeared, falling into the space between them.

Eddie nods anyway. “—And I’m terrified,” he admits. “I’m really fucking scared right now, but I know that I love you. I know that you love me, but I…” He tears one of his hands out of Steve’s grip, runs it harshly over his face, and curses softly, “Fuck.”

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, “You’re okay. Take your time, babe.”

“I’m pregnant,” he rushes out. “Steve, I’m…I’m pregnant. I don’t know how it happened. Must’ve missed my birth control a few times? Maybe I—I’m probably just fucking stupid and miscalculated when my period was supposed to happen. I’m sorry if this is—“

“Really?” Steve asks, breathless.

That’s when Eddie notices he wasn’t looking at Steve. Drags his eyes from their hands, the blanket that swamps him, and up to Steve’s…excited eyes? Shining and happy. He’s smiling, the small crinkles by his eyes are all too noticeable. Smile lines deep. All his teeth are showing. He releases a sigh of relief, nodding.

“Oh my God!” Steve exclaims, bouncing the bed with it. “Holy shit! That’s awesome, Eds. That’s so…Wait.” He pauses. Movement stilling. He’s half off the bed, angling for his bedside drawer, and reaching to Eddie, too. “Unless…Do you want this? I’m really excited for this, but I only want this if you want to.”

“I…” Eddie looks off to the side momentarily. He’s a bit afraid, honestly. Of what may happen with his body. What he may have to go through. The absolute uncomfortableness that he’ll have to endure, but…He’s thought about this before and been excited about it, too. Kids weren’t always ideal to him, not really. But having a kid with somebody he considers the love of his life, who’s looking at him like a puppy awaiting a bone toss, he’s content with whatever happens next. “Yeah, Stevie, I think I do,” he murmurs, “But only with you. With anybody else, I think I’d shrivel up and die.”

At that, Steve bounds off the mattress and disappears down their hallway, clambering about their living room. He rushes back in, careless of the neighbors below them, and skitters to a stop in front of Eddie. Slams his butt back down on the bed, hand gripping something, taking both of Eddie’s hands.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Steve pants. “Like, seriously, insane.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, “You’re scaring me a little, baby.”

He can see Steve swallow harshly. “Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “I just—This is crazy. I’m crazy. So, like we were close friends for a really long time before we got together,” he begins first. Gesturing with their conjoined hands between them. “And I knew that you were somebody I wanted in my life, no matter what we were. I knew that, like, day one? So, when we started dating, I had a feeling deep down that you were it for me.”

His eyes dart very briefly as if searching for words. He bites down on his bottom lip and works his breathing to be set normal. Eddie didn’t even realize he was still panting until he fully relaxes in how he sits.

“In our second week of dating, I got this insane idea. Went out to the mall with Robin, dragged her to the nearest jewelry store, and made them figure out the size of one of your rings. The ones you put on your ring fingers,” Steve explains softly. He grabs for whatever is in his left hand, fidgeting with it so that only he can see it, and then turns it around for Eddie to finally peer at. It’s a small, blue, velvet box. “We don’t have to do anything about this immediately. Whatever you want, I want. You’re one of my best friends. My romantic soulmate. And I love you beyond belief. So…Marry me?” He asks, enamored and giddy.

The box opens. Revealing the shiniest silver ring Eddie’s ever seen. It’s not that thick, a simple thing, doesn’t have anything added to it. But to know that it was made to his exact size, that’s something he carries warmly inside his chest.

He looks back up to Steve. “Yes!” He exclaims. “Are you…You’ve had this since week two? I can’t believe you right now, baby. Holy—“ And he takes the ring from the box, lets Steve slide it on his left ring finger, and just admires at it.

“I can’t believe that I get to be a dad, too, Eds. You’re the love of my life. This is…Fuck sleeping, lets celebrate!”

“Oh, how do you plan to do that? Because I could just sit here and fucking ogle this forever, Stevie.”

“I’ll show you how excited I am, how about that?” Steve teases. His eyes hood, cheeks flush pink, and Eddie knows he’s the happiest man alive right now. Well, other than the darling man in front of him. The pure giddy excitement on his face is something special.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Where Our Shadows Cross

Chapter 1 - The Wavering Shadow Cast By Your Light

Words: 2449 Genre: Romance Relationships: Kris/Susie/Ralsei

Read on AO3 and leave some kudos :3 ______________________________

Something gnawed at Ralsei as he watched his friends approach from across the castle courtyard. They were still his friends, weren’t they? It was still so strange to think of them as more than that, even though they’d all promised…

It would have been difficult to see, if you weren’t intimately aware of their mannerisms – both Kris and Susie were walking side-by-side, a small distance apart, as good friends might. But he could see it – the way that Kris’s body leaned slightly towards her, with no trace of their usual caginess, and their soft smile as they listened to her talk; the way that Susie’s eyes shone like gemstones when she looked at them, the comfort and contentment in her jubilant expression; the way that happiness and adoration radiated off of them both like the soft glow of a warm candle.

They just seemed so… alive. Alive to the universe and all of its myriad joys, in ways that he…

It had been this way since they'd first got together. That had only been a few days prior, but the memory of it felt almost timeless, eternal; there hadn't been any real discussion about it, and none of them had individually asked for it to happen. It was just something that the three of them had merely... fallen into, together. Some strange gravity had affected them, pulling them deeper into each other's orbit even as it had dragged them down.

And oh, the bliss of that very first night! The wonder, the discovery! He had not known that love could flow so abundantly, could grip his body so delicately and yet with such force that could not be resisted or denied. They had, each of them, surrendered to it completely, as surely as if it were part of destiny's grand plan for them.

So then, why did the knot in his stomach tighten when he saw them like this? The lightners were happy, and that was supposed to make him happy too, wasn't it?

His partners – yes, yes, that was correct – came closer to him, and Ralsei wrung his hands together, attempting to force down the heavy lump that had formed in his throat. It was not a darkner’s place to complain, nor to seek redress. This was a privilege that not all of his kind could be afforded, to consort with such wondrous beings, to be allowed to share in their divine and beautiful love for each other…

As if by the grace of that love, he too might know what it was to be alive.

'Hey, Toothpaste Boy!' said Susie as they approached. Kris waved to Ralsei with a small smile, and he waved back, a blush blooming upon his cheeks.

'It's so wonderful to see you both again,' he said, aching to reach out for them but feeling too wretched to deserve such grace. 'I've r-really missed you, Kris... Susie...'

The dragoness didn't miss a beat, her grin widening as she knocked on his shoulder with a playful fist. 'Yeah, we missed you too ya sap! Ain't that right Kris?'

The human nodded, offering a tentative hand for the prince to take with his own. It was slight, almost unnoticeable, but it seemed that there was some hesitance in that gesture.

He took Kris's hand, smiling at them and rubbing their knuckles with his thumb in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. Their skin was so soft, heavenly upon his pawpads, and with their touch the snarling beast in his chest shrunk back a little. What was he worrying about, really? They were here, right in front of him.

They came back for him. They came back.

Heart swelling to burst with love, he reached out with his free hand to Susie, and was a little saddened to see her draw back from the gesture, as if he had threatened to stab her.

Of course… how could he have forgotten so quickly?

‘H-how have you two been?’ he asked, willing himself not to cry. ‘Did you, um, get up to anything… fun, together? Haha.’

‘Pssh, nah,’ Susie responded at once. ‘It’s just been school-project-this and school-project-that - nerd shit, y’know? …uh, no offence.’

‘None taken! I’m happy to hear your time together has been productive, at least!’ the prince managed a chuckle. ‘We’ll make a model student of you yet, Susie!’

Her expression soured. ‘Eugh, pass. Oh, Kris and I took it in turns to push each other down a hill yesterday! That was kinda cool.’

Ralsei looked over at Kris, who confirmed with a small nod and thumbs-up.

‘Um. How… sweet?’ he offered.

‘Hell yeah it was! You shoulda seen how far this freak flew when I launched ‘em!’

She gave them a gentle bump with her shoulder… gentle for Susie, anyhow, which nonetheless almost knocked Kris to their feet. Huffing slightly, they threw their much-smaller frame back at her, succeeding only in making her grunt in amusement.

‘…oh, you wanna try it, huh runt?’ she spoke through a fearsome grin, throwing a burly arm around their neck without any trouble. Her free hand formed a fist, knuckles hovering just above the human’s head. ‘They’ll only find a smoking crater after I’m done with you!’

Kris cried out in protest as she ground her fist into their moplike hair, struggling futilely to get free from their tormentor. And yet, Ralsei noted the joyous grin on their face as well. It was still so strange to see the two of them act out this way, and yet still clearly enjoying each other’s company…

Love sure is a strange thing, he thought to himself, feeling the pangs of jealousy dig once more into his soul, even as he laughed aloud at their antics.

‘Ahahaha, they’re almost as wimpy as YOU are, Dr. Fluff!’ Susie chortled, letting Kris go – was he imagining the disappointed frown on their face?

‘W-well, I don’t see how that’s a bad thing, exactly…’ said Ralsei, beckoning Kris to him so that he could restraighten their hair.

Oh, those silken locks intertwining with his fingers as he gently scritched their scalp… what divine sensations! They leaned into the contact slightly, almost headbutting him in the snout – the prince suppressed a surprised giggle and planted a small kiss upon their forehead. When he heard the contented hum rise from their lips, his fur near-well stood up on end.

‘It’s okay Kris,’ he whispered gently into their hair, drinking in the scent of their apple shampoo. ‘I love you just the way you are, ok…?’

Susie turned away, making a show of gagging. ‘Oh GREAT, the sap brigade’s in town. Any estimate on when you freaks’ll be done?’

‘Oh?’ said Ralsei, looking at her with half-lidded eyes and a wry smile. ‘Did you want me to work on your hair as well, Susie?’

Kris giggled slightly at the thought.

‘A-as if…!’ she snapped back at the two of them, running a claw through her hair as if to protect it from any sudden braiding attacks. ‘I just… got better things to be doing with my time, that’s all…’

His expression fell flat. ‘Better than spending time with us, you mean…?’

The dragoness turned her blushing face away from them, growling into her mane. ‘Y-you’re both such idiots… Ugh! I’ll be at the dojo ‘till you’re done being all kissy-kissy with each other…’

‘W-w-wait, Susie…!’

Ralsei’s eyes went wide, and he disengaged from Kris in a panic. Everything in his being screamed to reach out to her, to take hold of her hand and stop her from leaving with just the barest of loving restraint. But he already knew, even before he attempted it, that would just make her flee faster.

‘Please d-don’t…!’

A heavy sigh shuddered from between her teeth. ‘…you know that shit ain’t what I’m about, Ralsei.’

He choked back a sob. ‘B-but I… I thought we were going to…’

‘…heh. Well, too bad. Guess that’s just one more thing I ruined for ya, ain’t it?’

‘S-Susie, that’s not…!’

Ralsei sensed Kris step forward, felt their arm across his shoulder, propping him up. Susie cast an eye over towards them, then looked away again, as if what she saw threatened to strike her blind.

He saw it then, that furtive glimmer in her expression that he recognised so quickly in himself – the fear that he was just a stepping-stone, a colourful accessory to something wonderful and terrifying in equal measure. The fear that he could only ever be loved as a lesser component of a grander unity, and not as his own indivisible self.

Heart pounding faster than ever, heat rising to his cheeks, Ralsei stepped out from Kris’s embrace.

‘Then… then take me with you!’ he blurted out.

This was enough to make Susie turn her head. ‘Wha…?’

No going back now. ‘I get that you don’t want to do all the, um… “kissy-kissy” stuff. A-and that’s fine, really! No-one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to, ok?’

He smiled at her in a way that he hoped didn’t come off as condescending.

‘…y-yeah, but that’s… that’s what you’re… into, right? All that mushy-gushy crap. An’ I know Kris likes it too, so like… ahh, man…’

She trailed off, and the amber jewels of her eyes glanced at the floor. Ralsei was surprised to see her look so… hurt. Not for the first time, he found himself at something of a loss in this new dynamic, and at the delicate business of trying to placate two egos at once.

‘…just… don’t wanna get in the way of either of you. Th-that’s all.’

‘What? No, no! You’re never… don’t talk like that, Susie…! You’re not in the way of anything! Right, Kris?’

By way of an answer, they strode towards the dragoness, and without once meeting her incredulous gaze, raised a clenched fist and knocked it into her shoulder.

‘Wha…? Kris, what’re you...?!’

Kris drew their arm back for another blow. This time Susie was ready for it, and caught their fist in her expansive claw. However, instead of moving to retaliate, she gave a strange, rueful little chuckle.

‘…no, yeah… I get it, man. We talked about this arready, didn’t we? On the way over here.’

‘…talked about what?’ said Ralsei, tilting his head at both of them.

‘…don’t worry about it, Ralsei,’ she said with a bashful smile. ‘Fact is, we’re here to see you, right? Cause you’re part of… well, all this. Same as us, yeah?’

She waved her hands in the air in front of her, indicating the three of them. The prince giggled at her coyness… though could he really say he was any different here?

She scratched the back of her head. ‘So like… it’s your call or whatever. Just say what you wanna do… and that’s what we’ll do.’

Ralsei looked from Kris to Susie, heart bursting with adoration for both of them. Such benevolence brought him again to the precipice of tears.

‘…well then!’ he chirped. ‘I, um…, I’d like to come with you, Susie… to the dojo, I mean. Would, um, that be okay, Kris…?’

Susie reeled, barely able to mask her panic beneath a veneer of annoyance. ‘D-dude, I’m serious! Don’t make jokes like that…!’

He blinked. ‘I’m… sorry?’

‘Sheesh… arright, LOOK. I asked. What YOU wanted to do. Not what you think ME or KRIS wants –what YOU want. Y-O-U, you! D’ya need me to spell it out, nerd?’

‘B-but you already did spell it out, haha…’

‘…oh, you think you’re cute, do ya?’

Susie smirked, leaning in close. Her breath was hot on his face, dusty and smoky like burnt chalk. She was close enough to kiss… oh, he felt weak… and was that jealousy on he could see on Kris’s face?

‘Heh… Careful, pipsqueak,’ she purred loudly, ‘You keep teasin’ a dragon… and you might just get what you wish for.’

Ralsei gulped. ‘I-is that r-right? W-well, if it means I get to, um, spend some time with you, then…’

This wasn’t the answer she was expecting, and it stopped her short. ‘W-wait… you mean that?’

‘…yes, of course I do,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with one of my wonderful partners?’

Susie flinched a little at that word, and he worried that he might have overdone it. But then a weak smile spread across her face.

‘…I, uh. Thought you didn’t like fightin’, though.’

‘You like it,’ he responded firmly, smiling from the bottom of his heart, ‘and that’s good enough for me.’

‘Pfft, yeah right.’ But as she said it, her smile grew a little brighter. ‘Hey Kris, you mind if Rals and I roughhouse for a little bit?’

Kris’s broad smile was all the answer they needed.

‘You can have him back afterward… if there’s anything left after I’ve thrashed him, anyway.’

A mischievous look entered the prince’s eyes. ‘Well Susie, who’s to say that I won’t be the one thrashing you, hmm?’

Susie blinked, her face reddening again, and from somewhere off to the side Kris cackled like a banshee.

‘D-dude, you can’t just… jeez, Ralsei!’

The prince seemed bemused at this. ‘I… umm, did I… say something wrong? A-and Kris, what’s so f-funny…?’

‘Nothing now can we— KRIS STOP LAUGHING IT’S NOT FUNNY!’

The human put a hand over their mouth, all the while giving her a pointed look that seemed to say that actually it was very funny and they’d definitely be bringing it up later.

‘…okay then!’ said Ralsei, feeling a little more secure in his world. ‘Then, Susie and I will spend some time at the dojo, and then Kris and I can have a date afterwards! How does that sound, everyone?’

Kris nodded in agreement.

‘So why’s THEIR thing a date, huh?’ said Susie, flashing her teeth at Ralsei in a way that sent a small shiver through his nerves. ‘What, I’m not good enough for ya?’

‘Ah, well… dates don’t typically involve quite so much… err… violence?’

‘Well MINE do, pipsqueak, so there! Try not to crumple in the first five minutes, would ya?’

‘Oh rest assured Susie – I’m quite capable of giving as good as I get!’

Susie’s menacing grin flipped into a mortified scowl as Kris began howling with laughter yet again. ‘That one was on purpose wasn’t it.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean, Susie,’ he responded cryptically. ‘I’m just say-yyyyyyyiiinnng…!!!’

‘OKAY WE’RE LEAVING NOW LATER KRIS!’

A violet claw caught Ralsei’s upper arm in a death-grip and yanked him towards the dojo at speed, leaving a breathless Kris wiping their eyes in the town square.

‘See you later Krisss…!’ he called out to them as they receded from view.

[hermitsdump]

Suguru Geto x reader

mild hurt/comfort, established relationship, nightmare, implied ptsd

the end got this song stuck in my head

your body tries to throw itself up from the mattress, clawing desperately at what weighs it down until breaking free. Your eyes haven't adjusted, but you know where you are, you know the layout of your apartment.

The pain shooting through your knees and brow says that you didn't know what direction you were facing. Trying to orient yourself, squinting through the sharp throb and splayed fingers.

A familiar voice and gentle glow of his bedside lamp bring you back.

“...okay? That sounded like it hurt.”

“Yeah,” you breathe deep and shaky, rubbing between your eyes. “I'm just going to check the do-”

“Close this eye,” he gently touches your face, stepping past you through the open doorway.

“What?” You do it, waiting for your heart to stop pounding, realize you aren't in the nightmare.

“You're bleeding,” he murmurs, pressing a damp cloth to it. “So what happened?”

“thought I was somewhere else,” you mutter, holding the cloth in place while he offers a hand to help you up.

Geto follows, turning lights on while you check the front door, the balcony, pacing through each room and looking in closets and behind the furniture. “Satisfied?”

You nod slightly, sighing and returning to his side.

“Come here, then.”

You slide up onto the bathroom counter, head hanging while Geto reaches for the first aid stuff. In the clear light, his forearms are mutilated with bright red scratches. And you feel his skin packed under your nails.

“Let me see it.”

You grip the counter with white knuckles, stomach gnawing itself over the damage. At least your eyes are shut while he cleans and covers the injury. Chewing the inside of your lip as if that will find it something to say.

“I guess you were lucky enough to hit the latch on the edge of your brow bone,” Geto comments. You keep quiet as he presses the sticky material to your skin. “do you want some ice for it?”

You shake your head, feeling the bandage and blinking in the light. “I'm sorry for hurting you,” the words slur out before your eyes can focus.

He laughs lightly, and it almost sounds like he's proud. “I'm glad you're having fight and flight responses.”

You take his forearms one by one, turning them over to see what you've done. There is no blood among the hundreds of red dots, but still, you realize he woke up from the scratching and moved away, not from the loud collisions of your body with the doorframe and the floor.

“you hurt yourself worse,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“you're allowed to be mad at me,” you pout, but he won't give you the satisfaction.

For having nightmares? Grow up, Geto thinks, noting that he's spent too much time with Satoru if his internal voice sounds like that.

“Look here.” Geto forces you into eye contact, but something is off, not quite like he's looking through you. The slight shift in his gaze clues you in that he's checking your pupils.

“Do I pass the test?” You huff, giving into his little health check. You wouldn't be allowed to sleep if it looks like a concussion.

“Hmm, I suppose,” he muses with hands on your knees that already feel soft and swollen, weak beneath the skin, asking if you're sure you don't want any ice for them.

“I don't care about that,” you breathe, spreading your not-yet-blue knees apart to drag him closer. I just want to be equals.

“we are equals. What is this about?” did you mutter that last part out loud?

“nothing,” you sigh into his chest. “You're being demoted to little spoon.”

This should eventually fit into frozen snow (ao3), a future au of my fic drifting snow (ao3), which is a future au of falling snow (tumblr and ao3) (Geto's ending) by @indiewritesxoxo (formerly indieotterxoxo)

[ventitititi]

Good morning, ilayda. This is my third and final Gaming request for the day. Please kindly consider this Gaming hurt/comfort request: Gaming and Reader have been betrothed ever since they were kids and Gaming makes it a point to visit Reader during the weekends. During his most recent visit, Gaming finds Reader being rather distant. Rather confused, he inquires around the village and finds out about the rumors about him and Yun Jin getting closer and Reader was expecting him to break off the betrothal to be with her. Gaming hurries back to Reader to assure her that he has no intention of annulling the betrothal. Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests

I've seen all your requests and man, i sure hope I'm doing your boy gaming justice as i chip away at these

Cw/tw; none!! Expect lots of fluff, headcanon-ish format, the hurt/comfort is very mild tbh, it's 2:30am here so yeah take this with that warning

🌱. Gaming had come back from another trip in the harbour, gifts in hand and excited to tell you all about the people he's seen and the places he's been

🌱. But... You seemed off. Normally, he'd expect open arms and warm hugs, maybe even a kiss on the cheek (definitely a kiss on the cheek,) instead though, you were... Quiet, distant

🌱. So, he did what anyone in his situation would do. He started to ask the aunties and uncles why you seemed so different, asking everyone he could about the matter

🌱. One aunty held the awnser to his plight, she'd overheard you talking about how gaming was getting closer to this girl by the name "yunjin"

🌱. Worse still, the aunty informed him everyone thought he'd break off the engagement

🌱. Interrupting her mid sentence, gaming holds up a hand, "sorry aunty but i gotta go! I'll hear the rest of your story later!"

🌱. And he was off, running like his life depended on it back towards your house. Never in a million years would he dream of breaking this engagement, you were the best thing to happen to him

🌱. Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a very frazzled gaming. His chestnut hair in a disarray and his clothes all unkempt. Before you could fully close the door on him with some uttered excuse, gaming had his foot in the door, keeping it open

🌱. "Y/n! Wait! Just hear me out, okay?"

🌱. You eye him warily but you do wait, you owed him at least that much

🌱. "Listen, i know you'd heard how I've gotten close with another girl recently, but i promise it's not what you think! She's a performer, too! She sings opera and i just thought she could teach me some useful tricks... Regardless, my point is that you're wayyyyy more important to me! You're like my heart! So please, let me in?"

🌱. He was giving you his best puppy eyes, and while you were still doubtful you opened the door.

🌱. Immediately you were swallowed in the soft scent of his clothes, strong arms holding you in a hug. Melting into him, you sniffle softly, "I thought you were gonna leave me, i didn't know what I'd do with myself"

🌱. "Nonsense, I'm never leaving, not even in a gajillion years! So cheer up, y/n"

🌱. Spends the rest of the evening/night holding you and doing his best to soothe any worries you have bottled up, his hands gently rubbing your back and occasionally pressing little kisses to your face

🌱. Genuinely, you're stuck with him for as long as you'll have him