#god i really do have a migraine today

[starmocha]

Zayne: wash your face

Xavier: *head rubs* 🥰

Rafayel: *busy*

[irhabiya]

today sucked the life out of me ya Allah

[imwritesometimes]

nothing like waking up and immediately having horrible migraine aura followed by a horrible fckn migraine to just completely derail all the plans you had 😖

[lovelaceisntdead]

Dad mad because I didn't make dinner yay now I will dissociate forever

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[aliteralsemicolon]

3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes

When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend. 

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNING: Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk. 

Word count: 8.6K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers. 

11:57 PM

Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it. 

11:58 PM

The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you. 

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored. 

11:59 PM

It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue. 

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”

12:00 AM

Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today. 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful. 

12:31 AM

‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra. 

“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe. 

“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.

“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”

“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”

“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”

“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”

“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”

Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state. 

12:56 AM

You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”

The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror. 

2:07 PM

You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.

“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought. 

“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.

“Um, sure”,  you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little. 

“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.

“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around. 

“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.

“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had. 

“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen. 

“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?” 

“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?” 

Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.” 

“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?” 

“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive. 

“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone. 

He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”

3:42 PM. 

You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything. 

Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could. 

The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him. 

What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.

Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours. 

“Emily!” 

“Hey, how are you holding up?” 

“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.

“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”

Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”

You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.

“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.

Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.

“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.

You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.

Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.

“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.

You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.

4:03 PM

Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”

No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?” 

“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”

“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”

“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue. 

“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”

As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.

“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise. 

“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself. 

The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”

Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”

“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”

“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.

“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?” 

“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”

“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”

“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”

“What was off?”

“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”

You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that. 

“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”

“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”

“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”

“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”

“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”

“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”

“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”

“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking”

“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”

“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”

“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Leave. Please.”

“Spencer..”

“Stop. Please. Leave.”

“Wait Spence-”

“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”

“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”

Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?” 

You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place. 

“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”

“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”

“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.” 

She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off. 

Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now. 

Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.

“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?” 

“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.” 

“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out. 

“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”

You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?” 

“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay. 

Spencer’s POV

It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.

“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon. 

Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say. 

“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”

Your POV

Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.

“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:

2:17 AM

“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided. 

As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too. 

Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?” 

“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself. 

“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern. 

“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it. 

He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”

Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?” 

You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.” 

“Are you sure?” Emily asks. 

“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.

“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.

“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason. 

“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.

You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again. 

4:31 AM

Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.

“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?” 

“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time. 

“I’m not.” You persist. 

“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.

“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”

“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they’d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.

“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.

4:55 AM

“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you. 

Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.

“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.” 

You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.

“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”

“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.” 

“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.” 

“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.

Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her. 

Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark. 

“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush. 

“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay. 

“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back. 

“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.” 

“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back. 

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice. 

“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy. 

“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes. 

“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.

“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”

“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”

“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.” 

“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.

“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around. 

“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.” 

“Yeah?”

“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”

You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”

“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”

“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.

“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start. 

“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events. 

“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”

“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer. 

“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling. 

“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.

“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”

“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly. 

“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.

“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears. 

“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand. 

“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.

“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. If there’s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”

You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing. 

The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to. 

“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”

“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times. 

“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.

“Spencer?” You say after a second. 

“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.

“Thank you too.” 

“Always.”

Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other. 

Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.

AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).

Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)

Thank you for reading!

[hairmetal666]

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

[starseungs]

kim seungmin x gn!reader. fluff, humor, apartment neighbors au. 0.7k wc.

note: whipped this up for no reason other than i was feeling like writing something short before i write another entry in my college crush series !! tune in for whose entry is next 👀💌 (this drabble is for you @starlostseungmin have fun)

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

[ 9:01 PM ] A pained groan spills out of your mouth, adding to the uncomfortable thumping you were unfortunately feeling. “You cannot be fucking serious.”

While nine in the evening wasn’t exactly that late into the night, it wasn’t objectively early either. For those who liked to sleep early, they would’ve already gone to bed at least half an hour ago—and even for those who slept late, one would expect that they would be trying to relax by now.

It wasn’t that you particularly kept a strict sleeping schedule where you had to be in dreamland by this hour, but the you right now really wanted for that to happen. Desperately wished for it, even. If sleeping early was the only way to get rid of the horrid migraine you were nursing, then so be it. And on a normal night, that wouldn’t have been a problem for you to achieve.

Except, apparently, this wasn’t any normal night.

Your next-door neighbor’s karaoke session echoed loudly throughout your own apartment, to the point that you’d think you were part of whatever celebration they had going on over there. The booming bass of the speakers rhythmically followed the pounding in your head, accompanied by the carefree voices that seemed to pierce through your eardrums. To put it simply: it was hell on Earth for you right now.

To give your neighbor (and his friends, you assume) some credit, they were actually really good at singing. You could’ve enjoyed their small-scale performance if only you didn’t have a raging headache that made you want to freeze all of them into ice and throw them into the pits of the Antarctic. To make matters even worse, you didn’t even know them.

That was a realization that suddenly came to mind right after you banged irritated knocks on the entrance door next to yours. Too bad for you; you couldn’t even get to contemplate whether this was the right choice to make or not as the door swung open not even five counts later. 

“Uh, hello?” The guy before you starts sheepishly, making you suddenly aware of how the voices inside the room immediately ceased upon your knocks. “Are you my neighbor? Were we too loud? I’m so sorry; we’ll stop the singing now!”

See, you would have loved to sass him for it. To throw your frustration over your less-than-ideal state all out at him. Make him feel bad as much as you can. It was petty, but the little mutters inside your head were tempting you to do it—only for you to catch your tongue before all of it got spat out because, fuck.

You didn’t know you had such a hot neighbor.

His hair was dyed a burnt caramel color, falling down softly until right before it reached his eyes that you couldn’t help but stare at. The baggy white shirt he was wearing perfectly hung around his frame, enhancing the comfortable vibe he was exuding. To add salt to the wound, he looked exactly like your type.

“Are you alright?” His concerned question shook you out of your dazed state. “You just seem a little pale for your complexion.”

Now you were sure that all the gods had abandoned you because all you somehow managed to get out was a simple, “I’m sick.”

If you could only pinch yourself as a punishment for ruining your chance of having a decent interaction with this neighbor of yours that seemingly fell down from heaven, you already would’ve. You only felt way worse when you saw his eyes widen before sputtering out a frantic “Shit, I feel so bad now, uh—” He looks back into his apartment. “Do you want some soup? We have some soup. Leftovers—if you’re fine with that. It’s my birthday today, so we have some other stuff if you want some.”

He was rambling. Oh, that’s so cute. He’s so cute, you’re heating up—are you having a fever?

“Soup would be nice,” you mumbled quietly. At this point, you didn’t know if it was because you were completely lost in whatever sickness you were nursing or if it was just a side effect of being in the presence of the angel in front of you.

The guy nods immediately. “Sure,” he replies, stepping aside in an inviting manner. “You could come in while I heat it up for you. We won’t do anything, don’t worry. Call me Seungmin.”

Seungmin. Even his name sounds lovely. 

It looks like stranger danger doesn’t apply now—you technically know him already. You could almost see your mother’s disapproving eyes, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Especially since you’ll be bringing home her son-in-law soon.

“I’m Y/N.”

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @lixxpix @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise ��

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you��d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[inkdrinkerworld]

hiiii I really love your autistic!reader fics :] I was wondering if you could please do one where r just has an absolutely horrible sensory day, nothing bad happens but just they didn’t sleep and woke up super overstimulated and still had to go through a busy day to the point where they go nonverbal, have a meltdown and need to lock themself away in their room in the dark/quiet for like a day. and then once they feel better and come over, remus (or dealer!remus my beloved) talks about it and comforts them <3 this is super specific lol it just happened to me and my roommates did not notice or care so I’d love to hear what you think remus would do <333

I love all your fics so so dearly thank you for being you and for all your hard work !!!!

I’m sorry they didn’t care! Sending you this Remus fic to make up for it

You’re not sure when this ‘off’ feeling had settled into your body, but now that it has it seems impossible to shake.

You’d woken up and just knew that something was wrong. Something intrinsic to you was off and possibly twisted up and tangled in ways that made it difficult for you to articulate what it was.

Your phone’s alarm was too loud, you could feel the sheets scratching your thighs and you couldn’t take a breath deeper than four seconds long if you tried.

Then you’d gotten into work and gotten even more overstimulated so by the end of your day you’d felt this building nausea swirling all up your throat from your stomach.

You can also feel a migraine coming on and it worsens the nausea.

You might be sick on the train ride home. You were in fact sick on the train ride home- thank god you keep a spare shirt in your bag.

When you got in, Remus wasn’t there- probably still at the dispensary. Which as bad as it sounds was the best option.

You smell like sick, you’re cold sweating, and you can’t stop your tears from falling down your face.

It’s horrible. You feel like you’ve been run over and like your body is fighting you with every step you take.

You’re grateful Remus doesn’t see you like this.

Your shower is hot, to the point of steam curling around you but you didn’t feel a thing.

You’re hardly awake for more than ten minutes, slipping into a pair of underwear and getting under your heavy covers and falling asleep.

“Dovey, hi.” You wake up to Remus stroking your back, his nails blunt and fingers warm as they trail up and down your back.

You shake his hand off, your head throbbing as you turn to look at him.

The nap didn’t help the migraine.

Remus takes a moment to look at your face, eyes assessing as he stares. “Was it a quiet kind of day?” You squeeze his hand and Remus coos.

He lowers his tone, voice smooth and soft like velvet. “I put your clothes in the wash, and I can get you your notepad.”

You shake your head, sitting up a bit and opening your arms to Remus. Your arms drop when you spot his sweater - maybe he’s just come in from work.

He understands immediately, “I’ve showered already, so I’m not in outside clothes.” He assures you before his arms close around you.

Remus is warm in a way you don’t understand. His body constantly furnace-like, and it helps to ground you.

“I had a bad day.” You croak, throat tight as you speak.

“You don’t have to force yourself, dove.”

You shake your head, “I want to tell you,” Remus nods, kissing your neck as you steady yourself. “I woke up feeling really bad, like I couldn’t get anything my body had to do right but I went into work anyway thinking it’d just go away. It didn’t. Then I threw up on the train home and cried and then threw up again, and then came home, showered and slept.”

Remus coos, “I’m sorry today was so awful, sweet girl. Will you be able to take tomorrow off? I’m home all day and we could make a ‘recovery from overstimulation,’ day of it.”

You could cry. You’ve the sweetest boyfriend and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t realize.

“Are you sure?” You gnaw on your lip as Remus pulls back, a tender smile on his face.

“Perks of being your own boss, baby. I set the days. Want me to call your boss?”

You nod, “Please? And we can watch a movie when you’re done?” You’re already shuffling down under the covers as Remus reaches for your phone.

“Course dovey, put on Atlantis and I’ll go get some water and salted crackers.”

As bad as your day had started, it feels lighter now that Remus is here.

[sky-scribbles]

There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.  

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria.  And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ��You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

 The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

[solarmorrigan]

Open Doors, Part 1

Ao3

Everyone was so kind about the first fic I wrote about Steve and Eddie's neighbor adopting them that I had a few more thoughts about it! I owe you all thanks for the inspiration and I hope this is also an enjoyable read <3 Part two will be up later this week

Tags: POV Outsider, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Protective Eddie Munson, past minor character death, car accident mention, the looming specter of period-typical homophobia

-

Gladys isn’t a churchgoing woman. She’s never even been particularly religious, beyond a performative sort of faith for the sake of her God-fearing mother (God rest her soul, Gladys supposes), but Sundays are sacred, all the same.

Sundays are for Murder She Wrote. And, more recently, they’re for dinner with her boys.

Neither Eddie nor Steve are the religious sort, either (she’d brought it up once, just to see, and they’d laughed a little in an uncomfortable sort of way that had told Gladys all she’d really needed to know), but Steve is a fellow fan of Jessica Fletcher, and Eddie is happy enough to join them on the couch after a good meal and watch them compete to see who can guess the solution first.

It’s something they all look forward to, so Gladys isn’t sure why she’s been left standing in front of the boys’ front door a full minute after she’s knocked. They ought to be expecting her, after all; they take turns hosting, and Gladys is sure it had been her turn last week. She knocks again, a little louder this time.

After another few moments, she hears the thud of hurried footsteps coming towards the door, and then Eddie’s voice is hissing out at her before he’s even finished opening it.

“I’m here already, now will you keep it–” he falters when he sees her standing before him on the doormat, “–down?”

“Well, if I’d known that was the kind of welcome I’d receive, I would have stayed home,” Gladys says dryly.

Eddie’s face morphs quickly from irritation to confusion and, finally, to a kind of horrified understanding.

“Oh, shit, it’s Sunday,” he realizes, voice still pitched low.

Taking in the state of him, it seems as though Gladys has interrupted some kind of lazy day; his hair is a mess (more so than usual), and he’s in pajamas and bare feet.

It smarts a little to think their evening has been so easily forgotten.

“It is Sunday,” Gladys confirms, maybe a little sharply. “But I can see you’ve had other things to do, so maybe we’ll just try again for next week.”

“I’m sorry, Gladys,” Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Today’s been… stressful. I swear I meant to call, I just got distracted.”

Gladys softens. She doubts if she could stay mad terribly long even if they had forgotten, but it’s nice to know they hadn’t, exactly. “It’s fine, Eddie,” she says, reaching out to pat his hand.

“It’s not, I seriously meant to let you know,” Eddie insists. “We can make it up to you next week? Or maybe, like, Tuesday? Tomorrow’s not gonna work, but–”

Whatever else Eddie has to say is lost when the door at the end of the hall, the one Gladys knows from the layout of her own apartment leads to the larger of two bedrooms, swings open with a creak. It’s dark beyond the threshold, but Steve is standing in the doorway, holding onto the edge of it and looking far more disheveled than Eddie.

With a faint flush of embarrassment, Gladys wonders if she’s walked in on some sort of… private time between them, but then Steve takes a few unsteady steps into the hallway and has to brace himself against the wall, and she realizes that something else altogether must be going on.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says softly, leaving Gladys at the front door to rush down the hall and support Steve. “What’re you doing up?”

Steve, also clad in pajamas, his face almost shock-pale and his hair flatter than Gladys has ever seen it, makes a little noise of discomfort as Eddie pulls him away from the wall. It’s jarring to see when Gladys is so used to Steve moving with the confidence and easy grace of the athlete he’d told her he once was. His eyes are scrunched shut, but he moves from leaning heavily on the wall to leaning heavily on Eddie without hesitation.

“You were gone,” Steve mumbles, his head falling to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie glances down the hall to where Gladys stands at the still-open front door, something almost like nervous, but he doesn’t make Steve move away. Instead, he moves his hands to Steve’s shoulders, kneading gently. “I had to get the door. Gladys is here.”

“Gladys?” Steve mutters, and then, after another moment of silence, groans, “Oh, shit, it’s Sunday.”

Gladys almost laughs at the way he unwittingly echoes Eddie. Eddie does laugh; just a little breath of a thing, something helplessly fond crossing his face.

“It’s fine, Steve. We’ll take a raincheck,” Gladys says, just loud enough that she’ll still be heard from the other end of the short hall.

Steve makes a protesting noise, straightening a little so he can face the front door. He opens his eyes just enough to squint at her, and it really only serves to make him look more pained and tired. “’m sorry,” he mutters, his words stumbling worryingly into each other. “Wasn’xpecting this today.”

“It’s fine,” Gladys says again. “You just feel better.”

He’s still frowning, and Gladys gets the feeling it’s as much out of displeasure with the situation as it is out of discomfort, but then Eddie tugs gently at his shoulders, turning him back towards the bedroom.

“C’mon, ba– Steve. Let’s get you back to bed.” Eddie glances down the hall at Gladys one more time before leading Steve away.

Silence falls over the apartment, and Gladys takes the opportunity to invite herself in, shutting the door behind her. She won’t stay long, of course, she just wants to be certain that Steve—and Eddie, who had looked awfully stressed—will be alright. The low tone of Eddie’s voice drifts out of the bedroom, quiet and indecipherable, followed by a grumbling that must be Steve, and then Eddie is slipping back out into the hall, shutting the bedroom door as he goes.

“Everything alright?” Gladys asks, keeping her voice low.

Eddie sighs. “He, uh – he gets migraines, sometimes.” He raises a fist and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Took a couple’a knocks to the head when we were younger and– yeah. Today’s a bad one.”

Gladys itches to ask, to press for more information, but she does actually possess a filter; she knows when to hold her tongue, even if she usually chooses not to. Instead, she says, “But he’ll be alright,” not really sure if she’s asking or reassuring.

“No, yeah, he’ll be fine, he just needs to rest.” Eddie nods, as much to himself as to Gladys.

“And you’ll be alright?” Gladys goes on.

Eddie shoots her a funny little look. “Yeah?” His voice quirks up at the end, like he isn’t sure why she’s asking. “I mean, I’m not the one whose brain is staging a full-scale revolt.”

“But you’re here with him,” Gladys says. “It’s hard to watch someone you care about be in pain.”

It had been a car accident that had taken Avery from her, not illness, but the few days she’d spent in the hospital with him, keeping vigil until his damaged body had given up, had been some of the worst of her life.

“I guess.” Eddie sighs, rubbing roughly at his chin. “It’s– They make medication for this shit, but it’s expensive, so we can’t– Sleep is really the only thing that helps, and it just sucks to sit around knowing I can’t do a damn thing for him while he’s– he’s suffering.”

“You’re here with him,” Gladys says again. “It seems like he appreciates that enough that he came looking for you when you’d gone.”

The ghost of a smile crosses over Eddie’s face. “Yeah…”

“I think you’re doing just fine.” Gladys reaches out and gives Eddie’s arm a little squeeze, and his smile grows.

He reaches up and twists his fingers into the ends of his hair, half-ducking behind it, as if he’s trying to hide the smile from her, but she can hear it in his voice when he tosses out a quick, “Well– thanks.”

“You just keep taking care of your boy, and I’ll see you two later in the week,” Gladys says, and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I’ll–” he stops, blinking at Gladys as the full sentence hits him. “Uh–”

Gladys offers him a smile, seeing herself out the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” she tosses back over her shoulder quietly as she can, and shuts the door on his confounded expression.

She doesn’t know much about migraines, but she supposes she could learn. In the meantime, she decides that no matter what the ailment is, chicken soup is always an appropriate answer.

[actual-changeling]

crowley with chronic pain that gets worse whenever he is forced to return to hell is actually so dear to me and it provides excellent angst material

as someone who had chronic migraines and headaches (not anymore luckily, getting away from my abusive parents solved a lot of issues in that regard) i know exactly how irritated and taut it makes you. the pain never goes away and it never stops hurting, at some point it simply becomes your new normal because it's either that or dying.

so crowley returns from an unplanned trip to hell after doing one good deed too many, and the first and only thing he wants after that experience is aziraphale. his angel is familiar, comfortable, and, most importantly, safe; there's no place he feels and is more protected than in the bookshop with aziraphale by his side.

at first, it's one wave of relief after the other, aziraphale hasn't said anything about his slightly unusual behaviour and silence, just brought him a cup of tea and shooed him towards the sofa. crowley is desperate for a nap, he closes his eyes and blocks out what little light still gets through his shades, every ray of sunshine a piercing knife in his optic nerve, and tries to doze off.

just that aziraphale is chatty today. very chatty. crowley loves listening to him, he really does, but hell is noisy, he is completely overstimulated, in pain, and by god he wants quiet. but he's in aziraphale's home, he's a guest, so he can't ask him to stop talking, can he?

light-headed and with increasing pain, he attempts to ignore it.

it doesn't work.

after about an hour, every muscle in his body is as tense as metaphysically possible, his head is a pulsating drum of pressure and agony, and the next time aziraphale's voice intensifies with excitement, crowley snaps.

"for FUCKS sake angel, can you shut up for one minute? please?"

he regrets it immediately. there's no need to look at him, he knows exactly which expression is spreading across aziraphale's face, and he is not going to cry, he won't, he's a demon.

crowley breathes in the silence, once, twice, three times, each inhale more shallow than the last, and then the frayed thread holding him together snaps, too.

he has miracled himself home before aziraphale can open his mouth or he can make it worse, and his flat is dark and quiet, comfortably cool, and he curls up under his sheets. tears run into his silk pillowcase, the only texture that doesn't exaggerate his migraines, and he spirals down an infinite abyss of guilt and self-hatred until he falls into a fitful sleep.

the pain of loneliness far outweighs that of his migraine, and crowley years and regrets and loves like he always does, like he always has, always will.

(if crowley had waited a moment longer, aziraphale would kneeled next to him, concerned)

(if crowley had tilted his head to look at him, his angel would have gently pressed his palm to his forehead and asked what's wrong?)

(if crowley had stayed, aziraphale would have listened to him talk about hell and the pain it causes him, and he would have understood)

(but they're not like that, are they?)

(but they could be)

[widowbitessting]

Baby It's Hot Outside - A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Word Count: 1729

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: The One Where MJ cares for you.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

You can’t open the door to your own apartment. It’s your first sign that the headache you’ve had for the past hour might be transforming into a migraine. And it sucks. Pain resonates behind your eyeballs and you have to squint to see where the stupid moving lock is so you can get inside. 

Has it always been so low down? Surely not.

The key finally does its job and you’re allowed inside your own apartment, near collapsing on the floor as you go. 

Definitely too hot today. Seriously too hot. 

It’s your own fault really; your classmate in all her wisdom kept offering you caffeine and you, in all of your wisdom, kept accepting. 

So now you're coming down from the copious amount of caffeine, mix that with the grand total of 0 litres of water you’ve had as well as the sheer heat of the day, and it’s no wonder you feel like your head is going to explode. 

Mistakes have definitely been made. 

You somehow manage to get to your sofa, falling onto the not so soft cushions face first. The sudden dark does a lot to sooth your eyes and you don’t know how long you stay like that, only shifting slightly to breathe, until MJ nb udges your leg with her foot.

“Two people live here, y’know. Move over.”

You don’t even try to form a coherent reply, moving your heavy body like she asks, wrapping yourself up into a ball. The shiver that wrecks through your body trembles the entire sofa and MJ doesn’t seem to notice. She clicks on Netflix and settles with her hot chocolate, completely unaware of your dying state beside her. 

She glances your way when your phone rings, looking at the picture of Wanda as it flashes up on your cell. You don’t even move, eyes squinting shut against the dim light of the living room. For you, they feel like spotlights. 

You shift uncomfortably on the sofa. 

Your phone pings a minute later; a text from Wanda, asking you to call her ASAP, she’s having an icecream emergency - aka: she wants ice cream but Natasha and Carol won’t allow her. 

You know she’s messaged in your group chat because your phone begins to after every few seconds.

Why didn’t you mute your phone? Why?

It doesn’t take long for MJ to let out a frustrated sigh and kick her feet so they’re under her. Her toes tickle your right foot, making you jerk and when you still don’t make a move to check your phone, MJ does it again.

“Dude, answer them or I’m throwing your cell out of the window.”

It takes all of your energy to move, and even then, you misjudge the end of the sofa and almost faceplant the floor. 

With trembling arms, you struggle to hold your upper body weight and here is where MJ finally takes pity on you.

“This is painful, move.”

She snatches your phone for you and goes to pass it when she finally registers your appearance. 

“Woah…you’re not about to die on me are you? I’d have three pissed off women on my case if you do.” 

You shudder. MJ throws your phone aside and lifts you up by your armpits, settling you back on your original position on the sofa. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You can only shake your head. 

“I know this isn’t the time to notice this but that medicated deodorant you’re using really works, you’re bone dry!” MJ lets out a nervous chuckle. “Laugh, Y/N/N. You always laugh at my crappy jokes…even if they are pitiful…get it?” 

You don’t even smile as a response and MJ jumps to her feet.

“Oh my god, you are dying!” 

“...not…dying…sick…”

“You are sick, you feel sick or you’re going to be sick?” 

“...all of the above.” 

MJ falls over herself as she sprints into the kitchen. She returns with the anointed “puke bucket” which is a mixing bowl you had ended up using one time after too many shots. No sooner does she place it near your face, do you start to heave, body jerking gags where you think your stomach is going to come up out of your throat. 

She touches your forehead. 

“You’re burning up. Have you eaten something bad? Drank too much?” 

“...not…” You spit out a wad of saliva. “...enough.”

“You haven’t eaten enough?” Something in MJ’s brain clicks. “Please tell me you’ve been drinking water today, Y/N. Please.” 

You shake your head.

“I’d hit you if you weren’t so fragile. You’ve not drunk anything? Dude! It’s one of the hottest days of the year!” 

“I had…coffee and stuff…” 

You grimace and turn away from the bowl.

“You are actually going to die. They’re going to murder you, you know that? And then turn on me because I’m an unknowing accomplice. You’ve only had coffee all day? Y/N!” 

“Don’t tell them.”

“How can I not? They’re bound to ask where you are! And what if they make a surprise trip to see you? You’re not exactly in a fit shape to fuck right now, are you, Y/N/.”

“MJ -” 

“Fine. If they don’t ask I won’t tell them. Deal?” 

“Okay, deal.”

“Right, you - don’t move. Don’t die. I’ll get you some water and a fan. Or something.”

MJ gets your water first, filling it with ice before rethinking and dumping it down the sink; before stopping again and getting slightly less ice for your glass. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Now with a full drink, and a straw because why not, MJ places it in front of you with the strict instruction to “Sip it, don’t inhale it.” 

She takes your phone when your head is in the sick bowl and vanishes into her bedroom; unlocking it with your passcode and finding the group chat with your girlfriends. 

“Who’s the least terrifying? Natasha, no chance. Carol, maybe…Wanda…you’ll have to do.”

She picks up on the third ring. 

“Hi baby!”

“Hey to you too.” 

“…MJ?”

“Hi, the one and only.”

“Where’s Y/N? Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you but I’d much prefer to talk to my girlfriend.”

“She’s not…well. I told her I wouldn’t tell you but I’m genuinely worried about her.”

“What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice cuts through your phone speaker and MJ wants nothing more than to throw your phone away and hide under the nearest bed. 

“Michelle Jones, talk.” 

“I hate it when you do that.” MJ grumbles. “Y/N’s sick.”

“Sick, how?”

“God, she’s gonna kill me…erm,” MJ pinches the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t drink any water and I’m 90% sure she spent most of her day outside and it’s been super hot and she’s not well and I’m worried about her…I don’t know what to do.” 

Natasha is silent for a moment. 

“Stay with her. We’ll be there as soon as possible, understood? Let her sip, not inhale, at cool water. Not ice cold, it'll shock her system. Is she hot to the touch?” 

“She’s hot, yeah. And not in her usual way either.” 

“Get a damp cloth, that’ll help cool her off.” Natasha orders. “And MJ? Thank you for telling us.”

“Any…anytime I guess. Not that I want Y/N to get heat stroke or whatever it is again, ‘cos it’s scary and stuff but if she ever misbehaves again, you bet your ass I’ll be right on this phone to rat her out. I’ll even spank her for you if you can't get her fast enough.”

“MJ, breathe girl. Get some oxygen into those lungs. We’ll discuss this at a later date when you aren’t so frazzled. We’ll be there soon, okay? 30 minutes, max.” 

“Okay, yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Damp cloth and cool water, MJ.”

“On it.”

MJ’s hands tremble when she returns to you with the items; a regular glass of water in one hand and a semi filled bowl with a wet cloth in the other. She takes the iced water from you and replaces it; ordering you to sip it slowly while she pats your head with the washcloth. 

You do little to fight her.

“I’m not well, MJ.” 

“I know, Y/N/N, I know. But you’re gonna get better soon, yeah? Just try to relax as much as you can. Google says you should start to feel better in 30 minutes or so.”

She places the washcloth on the back of your neck.

It takes you 23 minutes to feel slightly more human.

It takes 24 minutes for the Trio! to get to your apartment. 

You can only stare as they walk inside, eyes locking onto your slouched form on the sofa with a straw between your lips.

You know you’re in for it when you’re better and you nervously swallow, offering them a sheepish smile.

“...hi…”

Wanda stares at your fragile state, a mixture of emotions clouding her eyes, from guilt to a slight twinge of insecurity. She wants to wrap you up and promise to be a better dom; for herself but most importantly for you.

Carol makes a beeline straight for you and starts fussing over you. She caresses your cheek and feels your forehead, frowning slightly, before reaching over for the washcloth. As she dabs at your face, wiping away the tears that tumble from your eyes, Natasha, with Wanda beside her, moves closer and places a gentle kiss on your damp temple. 

“Hey there, little kotenok, how are we feeling, hmm?” 

They’re there. Your trio. There to finally care for you and you instantly feel safe. Comforted by their presence and you reach out, grabbing the nearest body to drag them down on top of you. Wanda’s scent fills your nose and you nestle into her neck. 

“Am I in trouble?” you whisper and you can feel her grinning. 

“Oh yes,” she replies, “but not right now. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, rest sweet girl. We’re here.” 

You can only nod as Carol gently moves Wanda so she can scoop you up into her arms. 

As you’re carried away to your bedroom, you can see Natasha speaking quietly to MJ; and make the mental note to ask her what was said. But for now, you allow yourself to be carried away. Not even five minutes later, nestled against Wanda, you doze off with a smile.  

[stylesloveclub]

Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill. 

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

 Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late. 

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated. 

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great. 

This is just fucking great. 

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.” 

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him. 

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much. 

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago. 

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers. 

And now he was behind on his work. 

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door. 

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork. 

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!” 

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness. 

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning. 

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?” 

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.” 

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.” 

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her. 

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.” 

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!” 

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again. 

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss. 

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks. 

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away. 

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.” 

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out. 

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…” 

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.” 

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.” 

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily. 

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car. 

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down. 

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do. 

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.” 

His eyes snap up. “What?” 

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.” 

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.” 

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.” 

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?” 

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.” 

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow. 

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes. 

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts. 

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.” 

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure. 

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on. 

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable. 

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?” 

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage. 

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them. 

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now. 

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough. 

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face. 

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down. 

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob. 

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.” 

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?” 

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?” 

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go. 

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over. 

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about. 

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.” 

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going. 

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end. 

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again? 

+++

HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED!!! SUB TO MY PATREON FOR MORE EXCLUSIVE PLEASINGRRY CONCEPTS AND EARLY ACCESS TO ANY AND ALL FICS!!!!

[justmeinadaze]

Little Girl Gone Part 3 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I tried to grab all the tags! If I missed any let me know :)

Warnings: Gangster Eddie/Officer Steve & Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, slight degrading, spanking, slapping, handcuffs, etc. FLUFF, more details about the guys relationship,

ANGST, Per the previous chapters cliffhanger we get to meet Jason Carver and he causes problems triggering Eddie to react impulsively. Steve and Y/N spend the bulk of the chapter trying to talk him out of it. Steve and Y/N talk about past relationships, The boys fight but its an understanding between them (you'll see what I mean), technically not a cliffhanger ending this time!

Word Count: 6883

Previous Chapter Here

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure as you feigned a smile and extended your palm out to shake his. 

“Hello there Mr. Carver. How can I help you today?”

“Well, like I told the young lady out there, I’m just here for a checkup. I’m embarrassed to say I wasn’t even aware this little office was here and so close to my house!”, he chuckled as he leaned against the counter. 

Your head slightly ticked to the side at his statement as you pretended to read his chart. Carver’s side of Hawkins was nowhere near your clinic with you actually being a lot closer to Eddie’s building then any of Jason’s. 

“Is that right?”

As the gangster nods, he turns his back to you for a moment to check his phone allowing you to sneak towards your sink and turn on the water as you pretended to wash your hands, utilizing your own device as you call Eddie’s phone. 

“If anything happens, you see something or feel unsafe just call my cell. I’m more likely to answer than Steve who’s always on the move.”

Casually fumbling with your hair, you slide the wireless earbud into your ear and slide your device back into your pocket just as Jason turns back around. 

“Please forgive me. Didn’t mean to break one of your rules.”, he laughs softly as he points to your “No Cell Phones” sign.

“Hey princess. I was just thinking about you.”, Eddie’s voice sweetly flowed from your phone.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mr. Carver. I completely understand.” You heard clicking that sounded like a gun being loaded as you focused on the man in front of you. “Now was there a particular reason you felt like you needed a checkup or did you just wanted to keep up appearances?” 

“No Steve, fuck you. I’m not staying put. This fucker has the nerve to come on to MY territory and…well then I’ll meet you there. You better get there before me because I swear to God if this asshole wants a war… The fuck did you just say to me!? Goddamn it!”

“I have to confess; I did have a bit of a reason. My head and my shoulder have really been bothering me.”

“Steve’s on the way, Y/N. He said he’s a couple of minutes away and so am I. Just stay calm, baby.”

“That’s not uncommon with things like…migraines. I, um, I can run some tests and prescribe you some medication that…that will help.”

Jason takes a few steps toward you as he speaks. 

“I would appreciate that. It just genuinely feels like I got shot in the forehead or something.”, he chuckles as he moves again till he’s right in front of you. 

“I think you should leave.”

“Aw, why? I’ve heard from the community around here that you’d be the person to come to for pain and I’m in a lot of it. You see, I had to bury one of my close friends yesterday.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, honey.”

“Don’t call me that.”, you growl making him smirk down at you before pushing some of your hair behind your ear displaying the earbud. 

“She seems like a strong one, Munson. Beautiful. Girl in uniform. You definitely have a type.”

“Don’t touch me either.”

“Or what, honey, huh?”

The exam room door flies open as Steve barrels through with his gun drawn. 

“Jason. You’re on the wrong side of town.”

“Put me on speaker, Y/N.”

Removing the device from your ear, you do what he says and hold your phone towards the gangster whose eyebrows raise in amusement.  

“Is that my favorite rival?”

“Jason… you’re playing with fire. First you come on my territory, kidnap, and hurt Steve. Then you send one of your idiots to point a gun in my face. Normally this would be strike three but I’m giving you an out here. Stay away from them and off my side of Hawkins and we’ll do the same.”

“You know, Eddie, that sounds like a sweet deal. Let me talk it over with my team and…oh wait. You killed half my team.”

“You hurt the man I love. You started this… Don’t play the victim now.”

“No, you know who’s a victim? Andrew, Patrick, Samuel, and all of my other friends you killed.”, he sneered as his eyes met your own. “Soon you’ll know what it feels like. You won’t know when or where, freak, but I assure you I will be there when your pig and little whore here become victims to. Unless… you want to switch sides and come with me, pretty girl.”

As his hand reached out to touch your face, your fist reached out to punch him, knocking him backwards just in time for Steve to move forward, grab your wrist, and pull you behind him. 

“Like you said, asshole, I have a type. She’s a lot stronger than she seems. However…”

The door to the room opens again as Eddie saunters in cocking his gun and points it in the other man’s face. 

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again or lay one hand on her, there will be nowhere you could run where we wouldn’t find you. I’m not Allen, Jason. I’m not going to let the stupid bullshit you used to do slide.”

Moving aside to stand by Steve, he allowed the gangster to stand and adjust his suit as he headed for the door. 

“You’re right, Munson. You aren’t Allen. The streets ran better with him in charge and you’re nothing like him. You may think these people respect you but I assure you they pity you.”, he spat before leaving the way he came.

The officer immediately turned around and cupped your head in his hands. 

“Are you ok, honey? You did really good.”

You aggressively nod, gripping his wrist as you lean your forehead against his. 

“Yeah, I’m ok. What does this mean?”

“It means I fucking slaughter that asshole and show him exactly how people respect me.”, Eddie grumble as tucked away his weapon. 

“No, it doesn’t. That’s something impulsive Allen would do but not you.”

The gangster chuckled under his breath casually walking towards the officer, placing himself mere inches from him with a stoic expression but eyes filled with fury. 

“That’s the second time today you, Steven, have insinuated I’m acting like my father and second person today to compare me to him. I am the boss of the Munson crew and I know how to handle my business. Now, go back to being the dirty cop and shut the fuck up.”

“I’m dirty because of you, babe. Everything I do is for you.”

“Wait…”, you begged as you step between them, each man prepared to duke it out here in your exam room. “Wait, don’t do this here. We can talk about it tonight in your loft.”

“We?”, Eddie sneered as he backed away. “You two can come over but the conversation will be the same. I know what I’m doing and neither of you have any say but especially you, little girl.”

“The head of a gang just threatened my life. I’m allowed to have an opinion on this.”

“Edward Munson, don’t do anything till we talk or I swear to God, I will arrest you and take you in myself.”

The gangster bit his bottom lip, huffing at he turned to leave. 

“Well then bring your handcuffs, sweetheart, because you will need them.”

##############

Steve stayed with you the rest of the day and after you got off, drove with you to Eddie’s building. As soon as you both stepped in you could feel the energy buzzing around what happened. 

“Hey Marcus. Please tell me he’s at least in his apartment.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington, but he has had people coming and going.”

“Great. Thanks, bud.”

The man behind the desk smiles at you as you wave politely, your other hand firmly locked with the officer’s as he led you to the elevator. 

“Is this normal? Have you ever seen him like this?”, you ask.

“Uh, yeah, but not at this scale.” As the door to the elevator closes, he sighs before turning to face you. “We meant what we said, Y/N, about not hurting you or anything like that but we both can get feisty when we’re heated. If anything makes you feel uncomfortable or you get scared just say that word we taught you, ok?”

The entire week you stayed with them after what happened with Andrew, you not only spent that time getting to know each other but they explained some rules they like to follow when it comes to “playing rough.” Steve told you that due to their line of work sometimes they liked to take out their stresses on each other which made you giggle at the time when his eyes playfully rolled back. 

“We like to go all out, you know? Slapping, choking, degrading… of course, honey, you don’t have to do any of that.”

“I don’t mind you doing any of that. Just don’t like punch me or cut me.”

“Sweetheart, we aren’t into that kinda thing either. Trust me, we see it enough out there.”, Eddie teases as he points absently towards the window. “If you don’t like something we’re doing or you need us to stop just say ‘Red’, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Munson. She has manners. I like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer grins as he leans down to kiss your lips. 

As soon as you enter Eddie’s apartment you’re stunned by the chaos around you. There were guns laid out in random sections of the living room with a gigantic map of Hawkins on the coffee table. Walking further in, you noticed pieces of glass shattered against the wall with liquid that smelled like bourbon surrounding it. 

“Ed, this is a rash jump. Shouldn’t the retaliation be level with the offense? A war seems…extreme.”

“Alright, Gareth, what would be level for openly threatening me and the people I care about, hm? Kill more insignificant lackies? Steal some of his product? No. If this is what he wants then I’m going to give it to him.”

“Jesus, man. You sound like—” The gangster’s angry glare cut him off as he rose to his feet, relief panting his features when he noticed Steve. “You know we’d follow you anywhere but we…I really think you should reevaluate your strategy.”

Eddie ignores him as he holds his current glass of alcohol in his hand to his forehead as he continues to focus on the image in front of him. The officer pats Gareth shoulder comfortingly as he leaves and you exhale your nerves as you watch these two men you’ve grown fond of interact.

***

“I see you didn’t wait for me.”, Steve sighed with agitation. 

“You’re right, I didn’t, but I haven’t made any definitive moves yet so you’re right on time to say your peace.”

“Eddie, I’m not playing around. If you start a gang war in the middle of Hawkins, I will arrest you and throw you in a cell myself. If you want to act like your dad then I can treat you like him.”

The long-haired man slammed his glass against the table and rose to his feet, striding angrily towards the officer before shoving him furiously in the chest.

“Last time you tried that, babe, we barely made it halfway down the street before you were fucking me and letting me go! You think now you can follow through? After everything we’ve been through? Now that you love me.”

Steve stepped forward shoving the man back with his broad chest.

“With no hesitation, honey. I’d be doing it because I love you. I’m not going to let you get innocent people and/or yourself killed! There are other ways we can do this, Eddie.”

“There’s no other way. I’m tired of his cocky, entitled attitude and I gave him plenty of leeway! His response was to hurt you, threaten me, and intimidate Y/N? No. I won’t have that disrespect!”

“Eddie, doing this won’t gain you that respect. If anything, you’ll lose more or all of it.”, you added trying to help. 

“Oh, sweetheart, if anyone has less say in this, it’s you.”

“My life is now on the line to as well as those innocent people Steve mentioned. I see and heal them every day! You told me when we first met that you didn’t kill people you didn’t have to. You don’t have to do this.”

Eddie glared into his boyfriend’s eyes as he reached for his phone and started dialing. 

“Hey, Jeff. Yeah, get everything together and—”

Steve hand flew, knocking the device from the gangster’s hand as he tumbled to the side and caught himself on the couch. 

“Jeff, it’s Steve. Ignore that order. As a matter of fact, all of you head home for the night, ok? Mr. Munson and I need to have a talk so he won’t be making anymore decisions tonight.”

With exception force, he threw the phone hard against the wall, not even flinching when it shattered. Both men stared each other down as the fury burned around them and you’d be lying if you said watching them angerly pant as their dominance oozed from them didn’t turn you on a bit. 

 Eddie lunged toward him and you watched in aw as both men began to fight each other. The officer got the upper hand, pinning him to the floor, and pressing his knee into his shoulder blades as he handcuffed his hands behind his back. 

“Be careful, Steve! He’s still healing.”

Rolling him onto his back, he checked the gangster’s wound that was exposed due his shirtless physique that had Steve not just checking his side but his entire upper body. 

“Why are you acting so impulsively? This isn’t like you.”

“Well, this feels familiar. You sizing me up while I’m on my back, handcuffed. I’m starting to think the reason you restrain me is because you can’t control me without it. Just like how you think threatening to take me in will get me to submit to what you want.”

Keeping both knees straddling his waist, Steve’s palms caressed his stomach around to his back, his eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s as he removed the cuffs accepting the challenge. 

“I can control you just fine without restraints. Now… are you done with your tantrum, little boy, or should we keep going?”

The condescension in his partner’s voice infuriated the gangster as he smacked him in the face and tried to throw him off him. This just spurred Steve on more as he grabbed the man’s wrists and held them to the floor. 

“Honey, can you help me?”

Nodding, you scurried his way and when his eyes gestured towards his belt, you immediately unbuckled it, even going the extra step of pulling out his cock for him.

“Thank you, pretty girl.”, he coos, tilting his head towards you so you could kiss his lips as Eddie struggled beneath him. “See? She’s a good girl.”

“She IS a good girl. That’s why I’m doing this; to protect her.”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re doing this for us, Eddie, because we don’t want you to do this.”

The gangster’s jaw clenched at your words causing Steve to sigh in frustration as he leaned down till the tip of his cock was resting on his lips. 

“Open.” When his partner remained still, the pretty boy rolled his eyes, shuffling the man’s hands into one of his own so he could free his other to reach behind him and place it on the massive bulge in his slacks. “OPEN.”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered as Steve continued to massage him and without prompting you slide towards the gangster’s waist and unbuckled his pants as well. 

“All the way off, baby. He needs to be exposed and vulnerable because that seems to be what he’s into now a days. Right, little boy? That’s what this move you’re planning will do.”

When Eddie moaned, Steve turned to see just as you were running your tongue down the veins of the man’s length. 

“She’s a lot nicer than I am because I assure you I’m not going to be that gentle. Now…OPEN.”, he growled. 

He tried to remain steadfast but when your lips enveloped him, Eddie couldn’t help but groan allowing Steve to slide into his awaiting mouth. Releasing him from his hold, the officer balanced his hands above his boyfriend’s head as he thrust into him as you lightly mewled at the feeling of Eddie’s palms petting your hair. 

“Fuck. That’s it. Keep that sassy fucking mouth open for me.”

Coming around to their front, you help Steve remove his shirt before leaning down beside Eddie’s forehead to tenderly move his hair away from his face. Even though they were upset, both men sighed at the action. You were a nice contrast to their rough lifestyle, not just when you played but in their relationship as well. 

“Eddie, please, there’s another way we can do this without people getting hurt.”

Wrapping his arms around his waist, the gangster flipped the officer over and you slid back a bit to allow them to wrestle. You noticed immediately that a lot of Eddie’s fight had decreased especially when Steve’s back hit the wall as he circled his legs around him, locking the long-haired boy in a position that had him thrown over his lap on his stomach with his ass exposed. 

Gripping his wrists again in one hand, the other free one came down hard on his behind making Eddie groan. 

“She’s talking to you and she’s right, Ed.” Squirming against his hold, Steve’s hand came down again. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?!”

“FUCK YOU!”

His deep, authoritative voice startled you but not his partner as his palm came down once more before sucking on two of his fingers and sliding them into his entrance. 

“Are you trying to prove something? Everyone already knows you’re a badass to be feared if needed.” Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers tapped that spot inside of him that drove him crazy. “You keep saying it’s a respect thing but I don’t believe you. People respect you except that fucking, preppy moron but that’s one man. We don’t need to kill a bunch of people to prove a point to him.”

Steve spanked him again as he mused.

“Is it me?”, you asked in a small voice that makes Eddie’s head hang as his hair blocks his face. “Is it because of what we talked about…about how I’m another vulnerability?”

“I won’t allow anyone to fucking hurt you.”, he grumbled as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Anyone.”

With incredible force, Steve pushed him off his lap and rose to his feet, pulling up his pants, and collecting you in his arms before carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

“Grab anything you may need, honey. We’re going to my place.”

“You have a place?”

“Yeah. Can’t really have it on record that I live with a gangster.”, he chuckles, his face hardening as Eddie enters the room. “You promised me that you wouldn’t let your feelings for me affect what you did out there. We agreed that extended to her when we decided to bring her into our world. If you really want to fucking burn down Hawkins to show the city that we are yours then we’ll remove ourselves from the fucking equation. Oh, and she’s not a vulnerability. Personally, I think she’s one of our strengths. One of the few fucking positive things about us and in our lives.”

“Why do you think I’m trying to protect her?!”

“EXCUSE ME! But haven’t I protected you two?!”, you angrily spit towards Eddie. “You I’ve saved twice, remember? I don’t NEED you to protect me. I can protect myself just fine. I like knowing I have you two there for me though. I…I make myself vulnerable FOR you. That doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’m not afraid of Jason Carver. If anything, I’m more afraid of you right now and what you might do.”

Eddie let out a heavy sigh as his palm flew up to his chest. Taking a hold of your hand, Steve led you past the brokenhearted gangster and out the front door.

##############

Grinning softly, you took in the new dwelling Steve had brought you to. It was a modest, brick interior, studio apartment on the fifth floor of a complex that had a good view of the city. The walls were pretty much bare except for the couple of pictures of sports cars and near his bed his certificate of graduation from the police academy. In the corner, he had set up a little gym area with weights and a treadmill with the same fantasy book off to the side that you remembered on Eddie’s nightstand. 

When you flashed it to him questioningly, he smiled. 

“Eddie loves that crap. Whenever he babbles about it, I at least want to know what he’s talking about.” 

On his nightstand, he placed his badge and gun right beside the medication you prescribed him making you beam when you see he had been following your instructions. Beside his lamp and phone charger was a framed photo of him and Eddie different from the one the gangster had. In his photo, Eddie was on a kitchen counter somewhere with his legs reaching to wrap around Steve’s waist as his ringed fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. Their lips were inches apart, noses just barely touching as Steve smirked down at him. 

“We need to get a picture of you so we both can have one.”

“Does it worry you? Like if you invite a friend over who’s on the force and they see that?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of an asshole. I don’t have many friends.”, he laughs breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair and takes a seat beside you.  “The friends I do have know about us. If I ever go somewhere work related or with any of the other officers I usually go to their places. And of course, I’m the only cop that goes to his place so…”

Your own fingers tenderly reach out to caress his cheek and run down his muscular back making him sigh as he closes his eyes. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I’m just…I’m just worried. I really don’t want him to this.”

“Would you genuinely take him in like you said?”

“I would. Which means I would most likely get arrested to.” Opening his eyes, he glances your way seeing the slight confusion as he continues. “If I just brought him, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d have to tell them how I knew it was him and then everything else but…at least he’d be safe. Unless they send him to the same place his dad is at…Fuck.”, he groans as he rubs his palms over his face.

“What would happen to me?”

His head abruptly turned at your question as he became more serious. 

“Nothing, baby. I promise. You’d be safe. Eddie has people that would watch over you for us and of course anything else you may need they can get it.”

“I need you two.”, you cry as your head hangs. “I like you both so much… I don’t want to lose you.” Steve’s arm shot out to pull you to him so he could hold you tightly to his chest. “God, what is wrong with me? I’ve never been this, I don’t know, clingy before.”

“We tend to have that effect on women.” He laughs and pretends to flinch when you pull away to lightly slap his arm. “Does it bother you? I mean do you like it?”

“I do. It scares me a little bit sometimes. Eddie says we’re his vulnerabilities but for me…being open like this…in that particular headspace… Most men are always intimidated by me when they first meet me and lately I struggled to get past that first date. My last relationship…didn’t end well…so I put all my energy into finishing my PhD and working.”

“I can understand that. I did the same thing after my last relationship. It’s part of the reason I had the balls to go after Eddie. I did so much reconnaissance and sleuthing that I thought I had enough to bring in the leader of a mafia gang. He, uh, wasn’t what I thought he would be.”

“Kind?”

“Goofy. He told me a dad joke that made me laugh. By the time we got near the station, I didn’t want to let him go. Over the past 10 months, I’ve learned how sweet, nerdy, and adorable he can be.”

“I learned the same thing about you.” Steve scrunched his nose as he laughed at you. “I did. You were a bit of a jerk and I thought you hated me.”

“I told you I’m a jerk!”, he grinned till you both calmed down and he tenderly petted your head. “No, baby, I didn’t hate you.”

A knock on the door had you both more alert as he placed his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion while he reached for his weapon. Rising to your feet in preparation, you watched as he slowly moved towards the sound, exhaling after looking through his peephole.

Lowering his weapon, he opens the door to a disgruntled Eddie who barges through and throws his leather jacket on the couch, his face instantly softening when he sees yours. 

“Why are you crying? Is everything ok?”

You wipe your face as he hurries towards you, giving you a once over as you nod.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’m ok. We were just talking about you…how much we care about you.”

“Why are you here, Munson? Don’t you have a massacre to dictate?”

Blinking, he readjusts himself so he can address you both. 

“Steve, when you showed up at my door after Carver’s guys jumped you, it scared the hell out of me. You were in so much pain and…”, his voice cracks before clearing his throat as he continues. “I remember what it was like having the shit kicked out of me and the fact that someone had the balls to do that to someone I love; someone that’s mine. I saw red. When Jason showed up at her work threatening to do the same…Baby, I lost my fucking mind.”

“Clearly.”, Steve chided, sighing when you flashed him a stern look. “She’s not just yours, you know. It’s not solely on you to watch out for her. You don’t think when I saw him pressing up against her and calling her a whore I didn’t want to shoot that motherfucker then and there? You’re also mine, Eddie, and if I have to arrest you to keep you alive…” 

“Are you still going to go through with it? Going after Jason?”, you ask, relief washing over you when he folds his arms and shakes his head. 

“You both were right. There are other ways we can attack him without innocent people getting hurt.” The gangster’s beautiful chocolate hues glance towards you. “I’m sorry I scared you.” As your arms wrap around him, he exhales heavily into your hair as his fingers cling to you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s ok—”

“No, it’s not.”, he scolds himself as he tilts your head back to look at him. “Don’t you ever let either of us get away with bullshit like that. It’s one thing to dominate you. It’s another to frighten you. We don’t want to do that with you.”

“So, what I’m hearing, Edward Munson, is that you need to be punished.”, Steve teases causing the other man’s eyes to playfully narrow as he bows towards his boyfriend extending his arms on either side. 

“I’m all yours, Officer.”

“Hm.”

Grinning, he steps forward, placing himself directly in front of him before forcefully turning him to face you as he pats him down. 

“God this feels so vaguely familiar.”

“Because it’s been done so many times in the past?”

“Only by you, baby.”

Steve’s face hardens as he spanks the man in front of him as he leans over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

“Stop talking. You’re in a lot of trouble.” 

You watch with intense desire as his palm glides over the gangster’s pockets and reroutes around to the bulge in his slacks. Eddie groans as he licks his lips, his hips slightly grinding to find more friction.

“Too bad you were a bad little boy. We could have been sucking you cock right now or you could be sinking it into her tight, wet pussy. But no… you had to play big man in Hawkins, didn’t you?” When his boyfriend doesn’t answer, he spanks him again. “Didn’t you?”

“Ah, fuck. Yes.”

Abruptly grabbing his wrists, Steve handcuffs them behind Eddie’s back, guiding him towards his mattress, and tossing him stomach first onto his bed. 

“Can you do me a favor, sweet girl?”

Stepping closer to him, you allow him to murmur instructions to you making you nod before lightly kissing his lips. After completely disrobing, you climb on to the bed in front of Eddie and per the officer’s instructions, open your legs wide for him to see.

“Fuck, angel. You’re so fucking beautiful.”, he compliments in a strained tone as the other man reached underneath him to remove the gangster pants and boxers. 

“Yeah? You like my pussy, baby?” Scooting a bit closer to him, you bite your bottom lip and grin as he nods, tilting his head to kiss your inner thigh. As his kisses trail further up towards your legs, you push yourself back, denying him what he desperately wants. “Oh, I’m sorry. Officer Harrington said you weren’t allowed.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder as he listens to Eddie whine while hanging his head.

“No, hey, keep your eyes on her.”, he scolds, gripping his jaw and forcing his head up.

The long-haired boy groans as your fingers glide effortlessly through your folds, the sound of your wetness making him harder as he tries to relieve the pressure by rutting into the mattress. His boyfriend roughly loops his arms through his own, bringing his back to his chest as he guides his cock into his entrance. 

“Fuck, baby, that’s it.”

You had never really been privy to seeing them be sexually intimate and you never initiated any of that in the bedroom. You wanted them to feel comfortable especially since you were the newcomer to the relationship and dynamic. Seeing them now as Steve slammed his hips into Eddie’s, lifting and holding his upper half with his arms alone as the gangster practically drooled mewling his name; it was the sexist thing you had ever seen. 

A small cry left your throat as you pushed two of your fingers into your needy hole.

“Aw, look what you’re doing to her, honey. She wants your mouth in her cunt so bad. I bet you do to, huh?”

“I-I—fuck—I’m sorry.”, he sighed exasperatingly. 

“I’m sure you are.” Pulling out, he smacked his ass before bouncing on to the bed on his back and man handling his boyfriend till he was positioned over his cock. “You better ride my dick fucking hard.” Holding the base, both men moaned as he lowered himself on to his firm length and did what he commanded. “Mmm—fuck—come here, Y/N.”

After crawling over to him, he tugged your arm and shifted your body till you were sitting directly on his face. 

“I got you, baby.”

Steve wasted no time, his fingers digging into your thighs as his thick, masterful tongue went to work. Eddie watched you both with glassy, lust filled eyes as he bounced and grinded on the man he loved. Leaning towards him, you couldn’t help but capture his lips and was surprised when the officer allowed it. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Fuck, his cock feels so fucking good.”

“I forgive you, Eddie. I forgive you. YES! Steve, please. I need him.”

His hold around you tightened as he shook his head between your legs, his lips making obscene slurping sounds as he flicked his tongue against your clit at an overwhelming pace. 

Panting, your body trembled as you came as his tongue continued with its assault, elongating your high. After a soft kiss to your thigh and a firm tap of your ass, you climbed off him, waiting for instruction. Sitting up, he grabbed Eddie’s cheeks and kissed him passionately making the gangster groan at the taste of you on his boyfriend’s mouth. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. You know how I am sometimes.”

“Hot headed? Stubborn? A pain in my ass?” They both chuckled softly, the officer running his thumb along his lips. “We talk to each other right? Figure things out together.”

“Yeah, baby, we do.”

“ALL of us. That includes her now. She makes us stronger.”

“Yeah, she does.”, Eddie smiled as he glanced your way wishing he could touch you. 

Giving him one final kiss, Steve leans back and pats his lower stomach. 

“Come here, honey.” Taking his hand, you let him direct you till you were straddling him with the other man’s cock teasing your pussy lips. “You’ll have to slide back on him but he should be able to do the rest.”

Nodding your head, you reach behind you to hold his length as you guide him inside of you. 

“Oh my fucking God.”, Eddie growls as you mewl at the stretch. 

Steve’s large palms grip your hips as his boyfriend start’s bouncing and thrusting his own. 

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“S-So good.”

“Shit. You’re both so fucking sexy That’s it. Just let go and take it like a good girl.”

Your breasts hang perfectly in front of his face and when his mouth attaches to your nipple, your pussy clenches around Eddie making him whimper as he picks up his pace. 

“Please, Eddie. Make me cum.”

As he does his best to honor your request while restrained, Steve licks his thumb and massages your clit driving you crazy as you push up and lean against the gangster’s chest. You feel him grunt into your shoulder as he releases inside of you, you following as you moan his name into the ceiling. After lightly spanking you, you collapse to the side and watch as Eddie falls forward knowing the man he loves will be there as Steve cups his cheeks and thrusts roughly upwards chasing his own high. 

“That’s it, Eddie, baby. Take it, take it, take it. That’s my good boy. Fuck.”

They both groan as the man underneath him thrusts his spend deep inside of him, his mouth falling open as he pants against his lips. 

“I love you so much, Steven, fuck. I love you.”

As the gangster croons into his neck and they continue to whisper admiration for each other, you tip toe towards the officer’s set of keys and quietly reappear to free him. His palms promptly come to pet the boy’s head, kissing his forehead before playfully wrapping his arms around you and dragging you over Steve to place you between them.

A warm feeling washes over you as both men roll on to their side to nuzzle their noses against your cheeks as they hold you. 

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep or for how long but the strong, delicious smell of pasta caused your eyes to flutter open. Eddie was still knocked out beside you but due to the small space you could see Steve with his bare back to you in sweats at the stove. One of his shirts had been placed by the bed and you smiled as you slid it on, shuffling towards him. 

“Hey you. I’m making dinner if you’re hungry.” His grin grows when you nod, turning his attention back to his sizzling pan. Hopping up, on to the nearby stool by his counter, you notice a file with Jason’s name on it.

“May I?”

Glancing that way, he hesitates for only a moment before giving his approval. 

The file itself was thick with photos and notes of Carver’s gang showing that the officer really did take his job seriously as you browsed through the details. Kind of like Eddie his father passed the reigns to his son Jason but unlike him, his father was still out and walking freely. He seemed to still have a bit of sway when it came to the clan itself but otherwise he trusted his son. He had been running things for a couple of years before Eddie took over and due to the change Steve noted a few things you found disturbing.

“Hey. Put that down and try this.”  You smile as he holds a spoon to your lips and he beams with pride when make a tiny yum noise as he turns back around. “My mom was actually a pretty good cook. She taught me a thing or two.”

“Jesus Christ, it smells good in here.”, Eddie announced, grabbing a desk chair and sliding obnoxiously loud over to you two making you laugh. While tilting up to kiss you, he yanks the file from your grasp. “Bad Officer Harrington. Letting her snoop.”

“She’s not snooping. She asked and I said it was alright.”

“I’m glad you’re not going after him, Ed. There’s some things in there…”

“Yeah. Jason Carver is a prick. I’m surprised his dad lets him get away with half the shit he does but unless George Carver deems you worthy so to speak he doesn’t give a damn.”

Your head shot up as an idea hit you. 

“Wait a second, Hawkins does a charity thing every year where the wealthy show up to throw money at causes to make them feel better about themselves.”

“Yeah, my parents go to that.”, Steve replied with a hint of sarcasm you didn’t miss. 

“My dad was always invited but never went. He never felt the need to pretend to be a good man.”

“But that’s why I never went. I had heard that the head of the Carver’s attended.” They both continue to stare at you with confused eyes causing you to let out a frustrated sigh as you rise to your feet. “The sponsors of that party have funds for Hawkins medical funds but the bulk of it goes to that general hospital. I’m still always invited…if I wanted to mingle with the donors…make an impression… Come on, guys.”

“Honey, just say what’s on your mind.”

“I can go with Eddie and we can talk to Jason’s dad. Maybe somehow convince him to get his son to leave us alone.”

They exchange a look before the gangster finally speaks. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, that means you’d have be seen with me and not just by the Carvers. My team, a few of our friends, and apparently Jason somehow knows about Steve but otherwise he’s hidden. If we go to this event with you on my arm, EVERYONE will know.”

“Including the police, baby. Which means you could have more eyes on you and pressure pushed when it comes to him.”

Your head hangs as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“I would never turn you over or tell them anything. I swear…”

“No, honey.”, Steve quickly explains. “We aren’t worried about that. We just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Of course, we can protect you in that regard from getting into any kind of legal trouble.”

“Your family and friends will have something to say—”

“I don’t have much family and I work 24/7 so I don’t have time for friends. Honestly, the only thing I care about is that clinic, my patients, and you two.” The genuinely smile at that last bit making you blush. “I do. I care about you very much. It’s been a long time since I felt like I wasn’t just coasting through life. These past couple of weeks I’ve really enjoyed having someone to talk to, to hold me, even just hear someone tell me I’m fucking beautiful.”

Eddie gets to his feet and tenderly kisses your lips.

“You are beautiful, angel. Ok, I need to take you shopping so we can get you a new dress.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t HAVE to. I want to.”, he grins. “We need to go over some rules and things if we are going to pull this off. “

“I can come to. Since my parents are attending, it wouldn’t be odd for me to be there and I can keep an eye on you two.”

“My knight in shining handcuffs and a holster gun.” Steve sticks out his tongue as Eddie giggles like a little kid. “Alright, princess, this won’t be the last time I ask but are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze shifts between them as a heavy sigh exits from your lungs. 

“I’m sure.”

###############

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