#i will be better once the painkiller hits

[baronessblixen]

First I couldn't focus on work because of a migraine. Now that I've taken something for it, I can't focus cause I feel sick. And the migraine is still there, too.

[froggiewrites]

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” 

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn��t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

How the Crew Takes Care of You on Your Period

Captain Curly

Knows your cycle so well that he starts prepping his monthly Captain Curly Period Kit a week before it starts

The kit includes all hygiene products that you need including painkillers, five of your favorite chocolate bars and the best part: candid photos he had secretly taken of you, each with a note underneath

The notes ranged from awful period puns to sweet compliments. This man knows how to keep you happy, physically and emotionally

Whispers comforting words as you sob over a character’s death during movie night

Though once, it was about a cockroach getting pancaked on screen

"Babe, that roach? It’s in a better place now—cockroach heaven. Endless trash buffets, living its best afterlife”

Spoiler: it worked

Checks in on you throughout the day, either with a sweet “How’s my baby feeling?” text or by dropping into the room for a quick chat, always making sure you feel loved and cared for

He understands how hormones can mess up with your mood and always reassures you that he isn't going anywhere

Co-pilot Jimmy

The man has somehow mastered the art of finding all the right spots to massage when you're doubled over with cramps or just feeling downright miserable

What you don’t know is that he once secretly googled “how to massage girlfriend in pain” (in incognito mode cause his ego won't just let him ask outright)

Big mistake. Huge. He was immediately bombarded with nsfw content, all roleplay, mostly rough

Let’s just say it took half a day, several deep breaths, and a burning face before he stumbled onto an actual helpful website

Ever since then, he’s been sneaking off to “practice.” But it got a little weird one day

Every time you passed by, he’d be glued to his phone, staring at it with this weirdly intense look, and his free hand squeezing the air at different angles

“Uh… babe? Are you… hallucinating? Maybe some floating breast action?”

“Huh? Wha—no! Unless you’re jealous of the air now, darling. Should I be worried?”

It all paid off when you let out those godly noises he loved, his hands were massaging with just the right pressure and on the right places

To top it off, he even got an essential oil in your favorite scent

Not without drama, though—apparently, walking into Bath & Body Works fully hooded and masked with shades doesn't scream 'thoughtful boyfriend'. It screams robber

Mechanic Swansea

The man and his craftsman hands will do anything to make you comfortable

Need a hot compress? Heats up grains, puts it in a sackcloth bag and places it in your lower belly

On days when you feel ugly looking in the mirror? Secretly blurs them slightly with shampoo or soap

Cold hands? Wraps yours in his larger ones

The kids being too loud while you're in a damp mood? He'd play tea parties with them (he was crowned the princess of all dragons)

Before sleeping, he always lay the towel down at your side of the bed whenever you're at the bathroom

Even built you a custom wooden cabinet that dispenses pads and tampons efficiently. Always stocked because he secretly checks it regularly

You have to force him to sit or lay down with you when he would be silently stressing out on what more to do

"Swansea, love, you're all I need right now, just stay here with me"

Nurse Anya

The nurse uses her medical and psychological expertise like a pro, making your period feel a lot less miserable

Meds are always your bestfriend whenever your killer cramps hit and she made sure to always carry all kinds of painkillers and have every dosage for each pain scale you're in

Wincing and doubling down? she's quick to ask

"Scale of 1 to 10?"

Even when she’s busy, she finds little ways to remind you you’re not alone like leaving sticky notes with doodles of you or your favorite characters in places where you’ll find them

After noticing how you loved wrapping your feet in blankets, she got you matching fuzzy socks that you now have to wear whenever she’s around (because she’s wearing hers too)

Lovingly strokes your back and hair while you scream at reality show contestants for choosing the dumbest of choices

Very much amused and nods along every time you asked her if you're both witnessing the same stupidity

Intern Daisuke

The boy is sometimes dense but when it comes to you, he sure isn't incompetent

One day, when the bed was way too soft to escape from, you did the only logical thing: text him

"Hey Dai, can you buy me some tampons? forgot to buy some yesterday"

"Be there in 5 babe! (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ"

And he meant it

He gave the pharmacist a heart attack by storming in and loudly asking for a box of tampons

Proceeded to grill them on what brands were most likely to leak so he'd avoid them (no shame whatsoever)

Never arrived empty-handed. Along with the tampons, he’ll pick up a plushie, a cute keychain, a little hair accessory or literally anything he knows that will let him see your pretty smile

He’ll wrap you both up in comforters, flashdrive loaded with all your comfort movies, from romcoms to horror

The mission? Movie marathon until you're both knocked out

Despite shrieking at every jumpscare, he still kisses your forehead between scenes, like you’re the one who needs reassurance (Spoiler: he needed those forehead kisses more)

a/n: thanks so much for reading! headcanon requests are very much appreciated ʕ•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ

[axelsagewrites]

Could you do a Roy or Jamie fic where the reader gets hurt? Even something silly like getting hit in the head with a ball at practice or something! They’re super concerned and want to take care of them! I also love angst…sorry if it’s a stupid idea. No worries if you don’t want to write it 💜✨

Jamie Tartt*Practise Mishap

Pairing: Jamie x f!reader

Word count: 1291

Warnings: reader getting hit by a football (which hurts a lot btw from experience), Jamie feeling guilty, fluff

A/n: i love this idea btw ive been wanting to write something like this for a while but i made this more fluff than angst

Masterlist here

You’d never actually seen Jamie at practise. There was the occasional time where you dropped him off or picked him up after, but you never lingered since he needed to concentrate. However today Jamie in all his genius managed to forget his phone this morning.

“Wouldn’t have forgotten it if you hadn’t have distracted me love,” he teased, a smirk toying on his lips that made you smack his chest.

“Can you not?” you said, nodding to where the coaches stood only a couple feet away.

Of course, Roy heard. A loud groan came from him before he barked at Jamie, “Back on the field Tartt,”

“You staying to watch Jamie in action?” Ted asked, far more politely than Roy who was sulking at the suggestion.

You looked between him and Jamie who seemed to perk up at the idea, “Is that allowed?”

“I don’t see why not,”

“Maybe he’ll actually put some effort in,” Roy mumbled.

Jamie just rolled his eyes at Roy before giving you a quick kiss, “Get ready to see the king in action,” he said before running back on the field as you laughed.

“How do you stand him?” Roy grunted.

Truthfully you found Jamie’s cockiness annoyingly attractive, but you didn’t think Roy needed to hear that. “What can I say? I’m a saint,” you joked.

Even though the practise was interesting at first it was just boys kicking balls around a field and the illusion quickly worn off. That plus you were supposed to get a bunch of things done at home since it was a rare day off. You turned to Ted to tell him, “I’ll probably shoot off in a minute or two,” you said at the same time as someone yelled “Watch out!”

Roy tried to grab your arm, pulling you out the way, but not fast enough and a ball planted right in the middle of your chest, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground with a thud and all the air was knocked out your lungs.

You heard Jamie shout your name, but you were too busy coughing up a storm and trying not to be sick. Roy and Ted had crouched down beside you, Beard shouting for Nate to run for the first aider. “Are you alright love?” Jamie asked, dropping to his knees beside you.

“I think- “your attempts to speak was interrupted by more coughing and the urge to be sick, “Ow,” you winced.

“What the fuck were you doing Colin?” you heard the footballers begin to argue as they all rushed to your side.

“I was trying to pass to Isaac! I didn’t know he didn’t see me,”

“When I said improve your kick, I didn’t mean kill Jamie’s bird,” Roy yelled at him, standing up.

Ted tried to calm him, but it was Jamie who spoke first, “Oi! The lot of you move it. you’re crowding her now piss off,” his anger washed off his face when he turned back to you, “C’mon love let’s get you some help,”

“I’m fine,” you winced as Jamie pulled you to your feet.

“No, you’re not now be quiet and let me help you,” he said as he helped you over to sit on a bench at the side. The first aider came and gave you a once over and said it was all good but to be careful. So, Jamie naturally made them triple check. Colin also came over, apologising a million and one times to which you assured him it was okay, and Jamie tried not to death glare him.

Some water and painkillers did help but you still weren’t feeling amazing. Ted walked over with a guilty smile on his face, “How we are doing over here folks?”

“Better now,” you smiled, hiding your wincing as best you could.

“I’m gonna kill Colin,” Jamie muttered.

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand over his, “It was an accident babe. Let’s just let it go, okay?” Jamie didn’t say anything, but you knew he wouldn’t. “But I should defiantly go now,”

“Well Rebecca gave me a call saying to tell Jamie to take the afternoon off and take care of you,” Ted said and before you could protest, he cut you off, “Its doctors orders, okay? Now scamp you too. And try take it easy, okay?”

You felt bad making Jamie miss the end of practise but right now football was the last thing on his mind. after dropping you off at his place and surrounding you with pillows and blankets Jamie went on a Tesco run for snacks.

When he got back you laughed when you saw the almost overflowing bag. “We’ve got enough to survive the winter,” you joked as he sat it down. “You’re spoiling me,”

“Never,” Jamie said with a bashful smile as he pulled out the flowers from behind his back, “Got ye these as well,”

“Aw Jamie,” you gushed, standing up to take them from him but you winced slightly as you did.

Instantly concern washed over his face as he grabbed your arm to steady you despite you not actually falling, “You alright love? I knew that women missed something. What hurts- “

“Jamie,” you interrupted him, cupping his face with your hands making him pause in his tracks, “I’m fine baby I swear. Are you?”

“Yeah, course I am,” he said, wrapping his arms around you, “I just don’t want you getting hurt and that. I just feel bad’s all,” he said, mumbling as he hugged you tighter.

You moved your head to rest on his shoulder, hugging him back, “But why?”

“You were there to see me and then you got hurt. I know how hard those balls can hit,” he said before sighing, “Its all my fault,” he mumbled making your heart break.

You pulled back only to pull him to sit on the couch next to you, placing the flowers on the coffee table, “It was an accident. It was no one’s fault,”

“It was colin’s fault,”

“It was no one’s fault,” you repeated, rolling your eyes with a small smile, “Now are you gonna sit and mope all day or are you gonna take care of me?”

Finally, a smile cracked onto his lips, “Thought it didn’t hurt anymore?”

“I lied,” you said, sinking back into the couch in a dramatic display, “I am wounded beyond belief. You’ll need to do everything I need,” you joked with a hand splayed across your head.

Jamie leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Don’t I always?” he smiled. “Want me to put those in some water?”

“Yes please,” you grinned as Jamie got up to sort out the flowers, but you called out before he could leave the room, “Can we have a movie night?”

“If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what the lady gets,” he grinned, “Just try not pick a total chick flick,” he added with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

By the time he’d returned with drinks and a takeaway menu you already had 27 dresses queued up, “Oh c’mon,” Jamie protested as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Please, I’m injured,” you teased making him roll his eyes but finally agree. Despite his protests Jamie was more into the movie than you were and made you pinkie promise to pause it when he went to get the food when it arrived.

Four chick flicks and an unholy amount of food later you and Jamie were curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets. “Feeling better?” he murmured in your ear though you could hear from his voice he was already half asleep.

“Feeling perfect baby, thank you,”

“Anything for you,”

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[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Steve blinks, looks around and processes that he’s in a hospital. He doesn’t remember getting here, which isn’t a great sign. It also doesn’t look familiar; definitely not Stroger, Sinai, Northwestern or even Hawkins Health. He takes a few deep breaths and relaxes a bit when the movement doesn’t hurt his chest. Checks his arms next, lifting both out, bending at the elbow, turning his wrists and flexing his fingers. Once he’s sure everything is accounted for, he moves onto his legs. He’s still wearing his uniform pants, though his shin, knee pads and skates are missing. He can bend his knees and wiggle his toes, and his ankles twist back and forth easily. Next, Steve opens his mouth, and his jaw hurts on the left side a little, but not an exuberant amount.

Robin clears her throat and he jumps a little, turning to look at her with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room. “Finished your self-assessment?” She asks, and he feels his face heat up. “What do you remember?”

Steve fights through the brain fog— again, not a great sign— before he settles on his last memory.

“On the ice at Crypto?” He asks. She doesn’t answer, waiting for him to elaborate like she always does when he has concussions. “I, uh. Think it was the second period? I had just swapped in, I think? I was chasing the puck, got it, passed it off, and…” he trails off, frowning at his hands, stained a red-brown color. It was caked around his fingernails, thicker in the creases of his skin. “And Billy hit me. Right? That’s what happened?”

“Well, you remember more than I expected you to.” Robin eventually sighs, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. “They’ve got you on concussion protocol.”

“Fuck,” Steve grumbles, reaching his hand up with the intention of rubbing at his eyes, but Robin catches his wrist and stops him.

“Don’t touch your face.” She’s stern, and Steve frowns. Nothing hurts on his face, besides the little twinge in his jaw. But then it clicks that he must be on some type of painkiller.

“Morphine makes me throw up.” He says, and Robin gives him a soft smile. 

“I know, babe.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment before he lays his head back and sighs. “How bad is it?”

“You’re going to need quite a few stitches, but they ran scans when we first got here to see if anything in there is broken,” Robin explains, and Steve groans.

“So it’s pretty bad, then.” He absorbs this information, efforts to retain it and not lose it into the brain fog.

“You skated off the ice on your own, if that’s any consolation.” Robin gives him a small smile, which Steve tries to return because it does make him feel better. But smiling seems to spark more pain than opening his mouth had, and he can definitely feel the pull of whatever bandages are attached to the side of his face.

Someone knocks at the door, and Steve prepares himself to be overwhelmed by medical terminology from some ER doctor looking to over-explain whatever is happening with his face, but he’s surprised to see Eddie there, instead.

“Oh, hey,” Steve mumbles, frowns and pats his pockets. “Sorry, did I text you? I don’t remember.”

“Eddie texted me, I told him he could come,” Robin says, and Steve visibly pauses his search to look at Robin, then toward Eddie.

“Hi,” Eddie offers, soft and quiet, looking a little paler than usual. “I, uh. Saw what happened. Worried about you.”

“Steve doesn’t remember everything yet, so don’t tell him what happened. Not for a few more hours, at least.” Robin explains, before tapping the seat beside her. “I pulled this over so you could sit with us while we wait for the doctors to come back with his scans.”

“It looks better in person than it did on TV,” Eddie says as he moves closer, eyes trained on the left side of Steve’s face. 

“Feels heavily packed.” Steve mumbles, rolls his jaw again, and lets out a little groan when it cracks. 

“Stop that,” Robin chides, smacking at his hand gently. “Max did as much as she could to stop you from bleeding out from your face, stop trying to hurt yourself more.”

“M’not, just feels weird,” Steve mumbles back before he looks over at Eddie again. “Not sure this is going to be the most interesting way to spend your night, Eds.”

“If this is where you’ve got to be tonight, then I’ll be right here with you.” Eddie offers and Steve feels his cheeks heat up, though he’s not sure it’s noticeable because he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening with his face.

It takes what feels like an eternity for a doctor to finally come in and explain that the bone connecting his upper jaw to his eye is fractured, and the team will have to monitor how it starts to heal to see if he needs surgery. Steve asks Robin and Eddie to wait in the hallway while he gets the stitches; he’s told there are nearly 80 running through his eyebrow, around his eye socket and down into his left cheek. The bulkier part of the wound is covered with a bandage, he’s given a prescription for painkillers, and then discharged into Robin’s care. Despite her attempts to explain she has an idea of what she’s doing, she’s given a pamphlet with the signs and symptoms of a concussion. Eddie elects himself to direct Steve’s Hospital Policy wheelchair to the garage, where he’d parked his rental.

“Where to?” He asks.

“Crypto.” Steve answers before Robin can, and she frowns at him.

“They’re not going to let you play, and the game is almost over, we should just go back to the hotel.” She offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“Crypto. Please. I… even if it’s just to prove a point, I need to go back.” He holds eye contact with Eddie, who notices the start of a few bruises likely to join forces around his eye in the next few hours and days, and Eddie sighs and nods.

The drive back to the arena is short; the longest part is waiting for the security guard to scan Robin’s team-issued badge to get them inside. Steve leans up to tug at Eddie’s leather jacket once he’s parked. “Not gon’ make you wait in the car, come in with us. Won’t be long, promise.”

Steve moves right out to the rink, opens the door to the Blackhawks box and slides inside easily. There’s a moment when nobody has realized he’s there, and he grins as he taps the coach on the arm, pulling his attention off the ice for a moment. Controlled chaos erupts then, as his teammates celebrate his return. There’s hugs and shoulder pats and hair ruffles all around. When the final shift changes with just minutes left on the clock, they manage to take the lead and secure the win.

Back in the locker room, Steve packs up his bags with the rest of them, offers his congratulations, as Robin hands over his discharge paperwork to the team medics. Eddie’s hanging back by the door, visibly caught off guard when a few players offer him fist taps and polite greetings, before Steve is pressing a finger into his chest.

“Told you I needed to come back. S’good for morale and shit.” He mumbles, slurring and can’t tell if it’s from the injury or the painkillers, but Eddie smiles back at him and rolls his eyes.

“You’re a handful.” Eddie teases, and Steve tips his head thinking for a moment before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“You’ve no idea how much of a handful I am.” Steve teases back, watches as Eddie’s face lights up with delight before he snorts out a laugh.

“I think you need to try and rest off the painkillers, Big Boy.” Eddie decides, and Steve shrugs because, yeah, that’s probably not the worst idea.

“But can we get food first? I’m starving.” 

He manages to convince Eddie and Robin he can stomach Jack in the Box, orders a ridiculous amount of food, then only manages to eat his fries before he falls asleep on the sofa in the hotel room he’s sharing with Robin. 

~~~~~

Eddie swipes a taco Steve had ordered, and joins Robin on the balcony of their room after Steve falls asleep.

“Does he always order fast food like a stoner?” He muses, crunching into the hard shell, earning a laugh from Robin.

“Only when he’s genuinely high. Pain meds hit him a little harder than weed usually does, though.” She explains around a french fry.

“He can smoke?” Eddie asks, surprised. He might not know much about sports, but he was pretty sure there were usually rules in place about drug use and random testing to check for anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah, the league doesn’t really care unless their levels are abnormally high. But a lot of players use weed for pain management because the game can be brutal on their bodies, even without assholes like Hargrove on the ice.” She looks back into the room toward where Steve is sprawled out, snoring softly. 

“I didn’t see Billy on the bench or on the ice when we got back.” Eddie offers, though it appears to be unhelpful information as Robin nods.

“He was hit with 5 minutes in the penalty box and a game misconduct, which ejected him from the game. Blackhawks are working with the league to figure out if it’s possible to prove it was a premeditated attack to see if they want to press charges against him, or if they’re just suspending him for a few games.” Robin drops her voice quieter like she doesn’t want to risk Steve overhearing, even though he’s sound asleep in another room.

“Do you think that’s what happened?” Eddie asks though he feels like he already knows the answer. Steve getting caught up in his head about this game, saying Billy is the reason the Kings are his least favorite team. All signs are pointing to a highly likely yes that Billy was retaliating for something when he hurt Steve.

Robin’s quiet for a moment, looking off into the city. “Yeah, probably.” She mumbles.

It’s weirdly soothing, the silence they’re sitting in, split by the sounds of the bustling city below them and Steve’s soft snoring inside from behind. Despite hardly knowing either Steve or Robin, Eddie feels he knows enough to be comfortable in this strange moment he’s found himself in with both of them.

~~~~

Steve wakes up a few hours later, feeling nauseous and achy. Robin’s nowhere to be found, but Eddie’s lying across her bed playing a game on his phone.

“Hey, you’re up,” Eddie smiles when he notices Steve moving around, so Steve sends a little wave in his direction. “Want me to grab you ginger ale or something from the vending machine?”

The question doesn’t fully process in Steve’s head; drowned out by the white hot pain and the urge to vomit he’s biting back. Instead of answering, he rubs gently at his right eye, still flinches, and tips his head to the side. “You stayed?”

“Well, yeah.” Eddie shrugs, sitting up so his back is against the headboard of Robin’s bed. “Told you I was going to be wherever you had to be tonight.”

Steve lets the response sink in, resists the urge to cry at how fucking sweet the guy across the room from him is, and lets out a heavy breath. “Ginger ale might help,” he eventually decides to answer.

When Eddie returns with the soda, munching on a bag of chips, Steve accepts the drink but raises his next question. “Where’s Robin?”

“She got a call from Max about an hour ago? Asked me to stay with you, but I was already planning on that.” Eddie answers, before offering the bag of chips in Steve’s direction. He shakes his head, pushing the bag back toward Eddie. The smell wasn’t making him feel less like throwing up, and the salt was sure to inevitably burn the split skin near his mouth now that he was feeling more of the injury.

“S’wrong with Max?” Steve asks, again, and Eddie gives him a grin.

“You really like to play 20 questions, huh?” Steve can’t be blamed if it takes him a moment to realize that Eddie’s referencing their previous conversations and picking on him, and flushes when he’s worked it out, but Eddie just laughs softly. He puts the bag of chips down, cracks the cap on the soda open, and plops himself down into the chair next to where Steve had been lying on the sofa. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Max, Robin didn’t elaborate past saying she called and she had to go to her.”

“S’probably freaking out about Billy,” he doesn’t mean to make the observation out loud, but Steve can’t take it back once it’s out in the world. Eddie raises an eyebrow, and Steve sighs, rests the cool soda bottle against the bandage over his cheek, and offers the short version of the explanation. “They’re step-siblings. Ex-step siblings?” Okay, maybe it’s not the shortest explanation, but Steve’s concussed. “Whatever you call the kid your ex-step dad had before he married then divorced your mom. They’re that.”

Eddie’s clearly amused at Steve’s delirium, which is mildly frustrating, but Steve allows it because he’s not being mean about his confusion. “I didn’t realize Max was related to Billy.” He observes.

Steve nods, takes another sip of the soda. “Yeah, but like I said, only on a technicality. They don’t really talk anymore.” 

“Because Billy’s an asshole?” Eddie guesses.

Steve deflates a little, thinking about it before he shrugs. “Because of me.” He answers, simply, with no explanation. He can tell that Eddie’s itching to ask for details, but he doesn’t. “You aren’t going to ask?” 

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready to.” Eddie shrugs and Steve feels a little part of himself burst into flames. He decides he wants Eddie to know, to have the background and all the information, to understand the choices Steve has made and what has led them here to this too-expensive hotel room in a city neither of them particularly cares for, with nearly a hundred stitches in Steve’s face.

“He was on the Blackhawks roster when I was drafted. And we had history from school and juniors, but we worked well together. And after a game we’d both played particularly well in, Billy came to my room and we, uh. Celebrated.” Steve explains, trying to find the best way to put things in order to explain the nature of their relationship as he picks at the wrapper from the soda bottle Eddie had gotten for him. “It became a thing, for a while. Win a game, hook up after. But then Max caught him at my place and he melted down. Cut contact completely with me, gave me a black eye at team practice the next day, and pushed to get traded. Does everything in his power to make my life hell when we’re on the ice together, now.”

Eddie’s quiet for what feels like a long time, but Steve’s sure his sense of time is skewed given his entire perception of reality feeling ever-so-slightly off-kilter. “So, you’ve hooked up with Billy Hargrove?” The comment earns Eddie a big frown, and Steve watches as he scrambles to continue. “That came out wrong, I didn’t… I just meant… I didn’t know if you actually liked guys, I guess. Not that you owe me an explanation about that.”

Steve considers his answer for a long moment, thinks about what to do. He wants to reach out and take Eddie’s hand, press it to his jaw, come out with confidence and pull the other in for a kiss. But it’s unrealistic, not how his brain is going to let him do things anyway, so instead he says, “I’m out as bisexual to everyone who counts. Robin, the Party. And now you.”

Eddie visibly softens, a small smile settling on his face. Steve takes another sip from his soda and rests his head back, only to hear movement, then feel the sofa dip beside him. When he opens his eyes again, Eddie is beside him, still wearing a soft smile. He throws his arm over the back of the sofa, behind Steve’s head, and taps his shoulder gently. “C’mon, lay back down. You gotta rest up.” He says, gently.

And Steve doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get most of the interactions he’s had since Billy knocked him for a loop, but he also doesn’t want to question the invitation. Instead, he buries the uninjured side of his face against Eddie’s t-shirt and lets his steady breathing, warmth and the faint scent of expensive but not overwhelming cologne ease him back off to sleep.

[coralinnii]

Is it alright if I request Ruggie, Deuce, Trey and Cater helping fem!reader with her period?

‧₊˚✧ To share our joys and abdominal pain ‧₊˚✧

↳ Helping fem!reader going through periods

feat: Ruggie ❋ Deuce ❋ Trey ❋ Cater  genre: fluff, humor note: no pronouns were used for reader (I just ended up not using any), symptoms of periods vary in stories to match the reality of different experiences in real life,

Fun fact, some of the scenarios in this post were inspired by real life experiences between me and my male friends. I missed those idiots, but now they’re somewhat smarter now. Me and my friends called it “the shining” cuz of the famous elevator scene xD

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Not gonna lie, he might be a little afraid of you whenever the time of the month comes around. 

Coming from a nation where women are revered as strong and aggressive as well as coming from a woman-dominated culture, Ruggie had learned an important lesson in not pissing anyone off when their body is going through what could be described as hell, blood included. 

Whether your symptoms are more tolerable or excruciating, it was still a surprise to suddenly see your nervous boyfriend carrying a gift basket with essentials like a peace offering of sorts. Appreciative, but a surprise nonetheless. 

It was also a surprise to see that Ruggie had built a little fort for you filled with fluffy blankets and pillows. Ruggie can’t imagine how painful cramps can get but if you need to curl yourself, he rather you have somewhere comfy and warm to do so. 

No one tell him he just essentially built a nest for his partner. He already knows.

Once you enter his nest fort, you’ll never leave. Not because you can’t but rather you never needed to. Anything you needed or had a craving for, the observant hyena caught on and was quick to make your wishes come true. 

Under his fears, he watches over you in worried awe as you brave through your pain the best you can. He always had respect for anyone who has to go through the day in so much pain but when you smiled at him so sweetly as you thanked him for bringing you some painkillers, his heart bleeds.

Whether he has to run 10 miles to get you something with his money or just to rub small circles on your stomach to ease the cramps, he’s willing to do any work to make you a little better.

"You hungry? I can whip up something good in the kitchen if you're hankerin' for something sweet. Leona'll understand me goin' missing for a while. Afterall, I gotta stay when my babe needs me. Shyeheehee~"

He was panicking so much, it’s almost comical. 

This lovable dummy won’t know what’s going on with you and simply you were sick or unhappy with him given how easily irritated and queasy you were throughout the first day. It was until you flat out told him that he finally put two and two together. 

“oh…Oh…OH SHI-!”

He wants to help so much but the former delinquent has no clue on anything regarding the female anatomy. He tried looking up some helpful advice but unfortunately he only got more confused because it’s the fricking internet. 

“Deuce, what are you doing?” 

“Protecting you. I read that bears and sharks can smell you and they’ll attack you!”

Thankfully, a call with his mom sent him in a better direction. The embarrassing flush of red of his cheeks was a cute contrast to his blue hair and eyes.

With guidance and some trial-and-error, Deuce was trying his darndest in helping you throughout these hellish days. Even if you’re the type to rather handle things yourself, it was nice to have someone by your side even if you get more irritable than usual. 

Like when a particularly bad wave of cramps suddenly hit you in the middle of the day.

The excruciating twisting and stabbing feeling in your abdomen brought you close to tears as you gritted your teeth to bear the pain. With swirling feelings of nausea and anger clouding your senses, your fight-or-flight senses kicked in as you growled out for people not to touch you in such a sensitive state. 

Almost everyone cowered at your seething words, except for Deuce. Instead, he wordlessly scooped you up in his arms and quickly made his way to the infirmary, only opening his mouth to apologize as you punched and yelled at him while in pain. 

It wasn’t until he finally laid you down onto the comforting bed of the infirmary that you apologized for your harsh behaviour, but the blue-haired freshman only grinned at you, fist to his chest like a show of confidence. 

“I may be an idiot, but I’m pretty strong and can take a punch. I’m gonna be right here if you ever need anything.”

One of the more level-headed students on campus, he wasn’t too panicked when you told him when your monthly visitor came around. 

Being someone with a younger sister, Trey at least has some basic understanding of what could happen during this time.

Since it shouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own, he kept your predicament discrete for your privacy. If anyone in Heartslabyul did take notice and made any demeaning comments about it, they had a sudden flux of kitchen clean up duty because “since they happen to be so free to talk about someone else’s pain, they can do some good around the dorm.” 

He would take over your Grim duties during the first few hellish days, keeping your rambunctious dormmate distracted when he noticed that you’re not quite in the best mind or body to watch over him.

If you don’t specifically tell him though, he may go a little overboard with taking care of you. Trey is the type to be over prepared with everything and anything that involves you. Of course, he’ll bake you some of your favourite treats but he would also refill your hot bottle, remind you constantly to stay hydrated, and gently force you to lay down if you get migraines.  

Trey is a sweetheart through and through, ready to help with anything if it would turn your pain from a 100 to even a 99. Even if all you ask is for him to caress your head as you rest before he leaves, he’s sure he could probably talk his way out of his vice housewarden duties for the day, just to stay with you through it all.

“Are you awake? You should have something sweet to eat to ease the cramps. Ha ha, don’t be shy. What would you like me to make?"

None of this is new to him. He grew up with two older sisters for Seven’s sake, he understands and sees the sh*t the body goes through every month. He could watch you wreck an entire room or cry for hours on end and just go “hmm, valid.” 

He’ll still act like his typical fun and flirty self. Even when he had a feeling you were on your period, he doesn’t pry or hint his suspicion unless you told him yourself. He knew it wasn’t his place to comment on anything. 

If you do tell him, he will try his best to make you feel the best through this painful ride of hormones. He just doesn’t wanna make you feel like you’re getting unwanted attention during all of this.

The two of you would have sleepovers whenever you feel too tired or if your body feels too sore to move. If you’re prone to bad breakouts during periods and feeling unattractive, Cater would dispel your worries by making you feel so beautiful, leaving sweet kisses on your face as he’s pampering your aching body. 

Despite what people may think of his attention-seeking tendencies, Cater’s very intuitive and works to make you feel good throughout the monthly changes. Never is he the type to make you feel bad or burdensome for your unpredictable needs and aches. 

For you, the outgoing junior could spend the day away chatting about anything and everything just to distract you from the mood swings. If you feel too tired to talk, Cater would happily lend you his shoulder to rest on while the two of you bundle together under a warm blanket and watch cute animal videos on his phone.

“Don’t worry, your Cay-Cay is here for you, cutie~! Just relax and take care of your totes fab self, ‘kay?

[lvnleah]

005. | Endo Struggles

word count: 2.1k

find the masterlist here!

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November 30th 2023 | 22 weeks pregnant.

Usually, your morning started with you waking up to Leah’s arm draped over your bump but this morning was different.

You woke up to the feeling of an empty and cold spot beside you, something that you didn’t expect.

As you peeled your eyes open, you turned your head to see Leah’s side of the bed empty. You peered over and saw that her bedside table was empty too, her phone was missing and her jumper from last night was gone too.

You slowly sat up and swung your feet over the side of the bed. A small wave of nausea hit you as you slipped your slippers on.

Your hyperemesis gravidarum was slowly getting better day by day, you and Leah had found ways to help it. Now, it was just about managing the tiredness and sudden waves of nausea that came now and then. The sickness was now rare and only happened when you didn’t eat regularly.

Opening your wardrobe, you slipped on one of Leah’s jumpers. As you slipped it over your bump, you felt your baby boy kick. His kicks were becoming much stronger and more frequent, something you and Leah could sit and feel all day if you were allowed to.

“I know bubs,” you laughed, running your hand over your bump as he kicked once again, “I know Mumma’s not here. Let’s go find her, eh?”

Walking out to the living room, you noticed the apartment was very quiet. It was half eight so you expected Leah to be up and getting ready for training.

What you didn’t expect was to see her sitting on the couch, her knees brought up to her chest, with a baggy hoodie on and a blanket wrapped around her.

“Le?” You said, walking around the couch to stand in front of her, “Le, baby? You alright?”

Leah nodded her head slowly, “Just a few cramps, I’ll be okay in a minute.”

You frowned, noticing the pale colour of her cheeks. “Are you sure? I can get you some painkillers or maybe something warm to drink.”

Leah shook her head, her eyes half-closed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. Just need a bit of time. I’ve already taken my endo medication.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Training can wait if you’re not feeling well.” You reminded her.

She glanced up at you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I won’t overdo it. I know my limits.”

You nodded, although you weren’t entirely convinced. Leah tended to push through pain, especially when it came to football. “Just promise me you’ll take it easy.”

“I promise,” Leah replied softly, her voice more convincing than her appearance. “How's our bubba boy?”

You smiled, “He’s good, lively this morning. Here, feel his kicks,” you said, placing Leah’s hand on the area your baby boy was currently kicking.

She smiled up at you, “He’s so strong, I’ve never felt anything like that before. Let me make us some breakfast.”

“Le, you don’t have to,” you sighed, “I can order something in.”

She shook her head before standing up, a weak groan leaving her as she did so, “I want to, just let me do something.”

Reluctantly, you let her make you some breakfast. The apartment felt strangely quiet without Leah’s usual morning chatter as you sat on the couch. As she prepared a small bowl of cereal, you caught yourself glancing back at her, the unease in your stomach more than just the usual morning nausea.

Luckily, you were able to eat your breakfast without throwing up. A few moments of nausea came and went but you managed to not be sick for the first morning in a while.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” you said, knowing she still wasn’t feeling great. “I’m sure the team will understand if you take a day off.”

Leah gave you a reassuring kiss on the forehead. “I appreciate the concern, pretty girl, but I’ll be fine. Just need to shake it off. I can’t miss another rehab session.”

You sighed, “Okay, but if the pain gets worse, promise me you’ll come straight home.”

“I will,” Leah said, pulling on her trainers. “Now, you take it easy too. No overexerting yourself.”

“Deal,” you said, crossing your arms with a smile. “I’ll be here, relaxing and waiting for my superstar to come back.”

Leah laughed softly, her eyes brighter now. “That’s my girl.” She grabbed her training bag and headed towards the door, pausing to blow you a kiss. “See you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you called back, watching as she left.

As the door clicked shut, you placed a hand on your bump, feeling another gentle kick. “Alright, bubba boy, it’s just you and me now. Let’s make today a good one.”

With Leah gone, you settled into the routine that you’d gotten yourself into. You tidied the apartment a little bit and hung some of your and Leah’s clothes up before taking a nap. You left your phone beside you and laid down on the sofa, the cosy blanket draped over you as you fell into a soft sleep.

A couple of hours later, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing beside your ears. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before looking at the caller ID, expecting it to be Leah checking in on you.

What you didn’t expect was for it to be Beth phoning you and not Leah.

“Hey Beth,” you tiredly said, sleep still lacing your voice, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t panic but…” Beth trailed off. Her words instantly panicked you as you sat up, “Leah’s having an endometriosis flare up and the physios are sending her home. They asked me to phone you because she’s in too much pain to drive.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes. I’m just leaving.” You told Beth as you quickly stood up from the sofa and grabbed your keys, slipping your shoes on and closing the front door.

You said your goodbyes to Beth and hung up the phone call as you got into your car.

The drive to the training centre felt like an eternity despite the fact it only took you ten minutes. Your mind raced with worry for Leah, her endometriosis flare-ups were always tough on her.

You arrived at the familiar gates of the training centre, flashing your pass to the security guard who nodded sympathetically as you sped past.

Parking as close as possible, you hurried inside. The atmosphere was tense, players and staff bustling about, but you spotted Beth waving you over from a corner. She looked relieved to see you as you approached.

"Hey," Beth said quietly, concern etched on her face. "She's in the physio room. They've given her pain meds but she needs to get home."

You nodded, “Thanks for phoning, Beth. I knew she wasn’t right this morning.”

Beth led you through the maze of corridors to where Leah was waiting. As you entered the room, you found her lying on a treatment table, her face pale and drawn with pain. The sight of her like this always tore at your heart.

Leah managed a weak smile when she saw you. "Hey, pretty girl," she managed to say through gritted teeth. "I’m sorry I’ve dragged you here."

You rushed to her side, taking her hand gently. "Don't be ridiculous," you murmured, brushing a lock of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. "Let's get you home."

With Beth's help, you got Leah into the car. The drive back was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional moan of discomfort from Leah in the passenger seat.

Once home, you guided Leah inside, helping her settle on the couch with pillows and blankets. You made her a hot water bottle, prepared some pain relief medication, and fetched her favourite comfort foods.

Despite the worry gnawing at you, seeing her begin to relax brought a measure of relief. This wasn't the first time you'd been through this together, and each time, you learned new ways to support her.

"Thank you," Leah whispered, her eyes fluttering closed as the pain medication started to take effect.

"You don't have to thank me," you replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm here. Always."

“I feel bad,” Leah sighed, “You’ve been struggling so much recently and I didn’t want to put pressure on you. You’re already stressed enough with your hg and you’re so tired. You didn’t have to pick me up today.”

“Leah, you’re my wife,” you reminded her, “we work as a team, okay? You look after me and I look after you, I picked you up because I care about you.”

Leah's brow furrowed slightly, her concern evident even through the pain. "But I know how hard it is for you, especially with everything going on. I hate that my endo issues add to your stress."

You gently smoothed her hair back, "We've been through a lot together, Leah. We’re a team and I wouldn't have it any other way."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Leah's lips as she squeezed your hand weakly. "I love you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I love you too," you replied. "Now, let's focus on getting you comfortable and resting. We'll tackle everything else together, just like always."

Leah nodded faintly, her eyes closing as exhaustion finally began to overtake her. You stayed close by her side, keeping watch over her as she drifted into a much-needed sleep, grateful for the quiet moments together despite the challenges they faced.

Whilst Leah napped, you watched some TV before putting a load of washing on and some more clothes away. As you put some spaghetti on for dinner, you felt Leah’s arms slip under your top and rest on the top of your bump.

“Hey love,” you smiled, turning your cheek to her as she placed a kiss on it. “Are you feeling any better?”

Leah nodded her head, her hands running up and down your bump, “I am. The nap definitely helped, I’ve still got some cramps but they’re not as bad.”

“That’s good,” you said, stirring the spaghetti. “I was thinking of spaghetti Bolognese for dinner. Sound good?”

Leah gave you a tired but genuine smile. “Sounds perfect. Our little guy is going to love your cooking as much as I do, I bet.”

You chuckled, glancing at her. “Let’s hope he’s not as picky as you.”

Leah playfully gasped. “Hey, I’m not that bad!”

“Okay little miss I only eat plain stuff and get upset if people eat my bread,” you laughed, “Our little bubba won’t be as picky as you, I’ll make it my mission.”

You both sat on the couch and ate the spaghetti bolognese you cooked, sharing stories about your day. Leah’s laughter, though subdued by her pain, filled the room with warmth. You made sure she had a generous helping of the Bolognese, knowing it was one of her favourite meals and hoping it might ease her discomfort a bit more.

After the plates were cleared and the kitchen tidied, you both retreated to the bedroom. Leah slid into bed first, leaning back against the pillows with a tired yawn.

You joined her, pulling the blanket over the both of you as you cuddled into her side. Your growing belly made it a bit more challenging to find a comfortable position, Leah laughed as you tossed and turned for a few minutes.

Leah crawled down towards your bump. “Hey, little man, it’s Mumma,” she murmured, her hand resting gently on your stomach. “Today was a bit rough, but it’s okay now. Your mummy’s taking such good care of me, just like she’ll take care of you.”

You smiled, running your hand through Leah’s hand, “I can’t wait for you to get here. I want to show you so many things, and I promise to teach you all about the important stuff, like why mummy’s spaghetti is the best.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” you whispered, your hand still playing with her blonde hair.

Leah looked up at you, “We’re both lucky,” she said, leaning up to kiss you softly. “You’re going to be an amazing mum.”

You cuddled closer, feeling your baby boy kick gently in response to Leah’s voice. “Leah, I need you to promise me you won’t do what you did again today.”

Leah nodded, “I promise, pretty girl. I just didn’t want to stress you and add to your worries.”

“I don’t want you to do it again. I’m your wife, we’re a team. If you’re struggling with your endo, I’ll help you.” You reminded her once again, “Just like you’ve done for me with my HG.”

Leah smiled, “I won’t ever do that again. I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too.”

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

cherry pt. 1 🍒

gif by @taiturner

touch-starved!fem!reader x touch-starved, shy daryl dixon. this is pure tooth-rotting fluff with protective daryl, set somewhere in alexandria. the reader is a medic, this is a sweet build-up to smut which is going to be in part 2.

3.5k words, suitable for everyone. reader is referred to as "she", written in 3rd person, mostly daryl's pov, all lowercase. title from the lana song cherry because lana + norman = *author barks incoherently and descends into insanity*

her knee landed between his legs with a soft thud. the meat of his thigh surrounded by her legs as he sat under the yellow overhead lamp, daryl's chest rose and fell steadily, caramel skin marred by a deep red welt.

he stunk like bloody sweat, moist soil and gunpowder and lead.

"I'll inject a local," she mumbled, tapping on the glass vial before inserting the syringe and filling it up with a clear liquid, "you gonna need some twenty stitches, boyo."

"you dun' hafta," he, nonetheless, winced; the welt went across his chest, over his pectoral and almost to his collarbone. all and all, far from the worst he's had.

painkillers were a luxury, better spent on someone else, someone not like him. but he knew better than to argue with a medic (or someone filling the position of one, for that matter).

the woman's scent enveloped his senses in an opaque fog of sweet summer sweat over sharp, cheap laundry powder. something bitter, like rosemary and thyme, something sweet, like cherries and wine.

daryl's eyelashes fluttered as the needle pierced his skin: once, twice, five times, all around the jagged edges of the torn wound. the breath he was holding in left his mouth in a humid huff.

her hands, so gentle, prodded at the edges of his hurt until he could answer her question of 'feel anything?' negative, honestly. briefly, the acrid stench of rubbing alcohol overshadowed everything else as she sterilized everything, the tools and him, to the best of her ability.

he opened his eyes.

"now," she lifted her clever eyes, surveying the scene, "I'm gonna perch myself here," she moved that much closer, one knee between his legs, the other on the side of his leg; hovering over the same leg, facing his reclined torso, "you tell me if you're uncomfortable. that's the only light here, I don't mean to invade your personal space like that."

he could have laughed, if not for the risk of disrupting her careful stitching of his flesh.

"don'tcha worry 'bout it, pretty girl," his voice gravelly low, daryl did his best to stay still.

she chuckled softly, "bet you say that to anyone who can stitch you up in an even line."

"no," he scoffed, surprising himself, "jus' you. rick's hardly a pretty girl."

her hands stilled, eyes momentarily darting to his. the yellow light reflected in them, giving her pupils a red-hot gleam, as if devil himself had taken a sharp turn and went to seek refuge inside her instead of coming down to georgia.

he studied it, studied his own blurry, open-mouthed, panting reflection in the pupils of the woman currently perched atop his lap. then the realisation hit him, like a derailed runaway train, and he immediately withdrew to count the cracks in the ceiling.

she cleared her throat, resuming the rhythmical push and pull of the needle.

"didn't know rick could do that."

daryl attempted to shrug - stopping it before the motion reached his shoulders - and grunted instead.

she continued to stitch, the suddenly pregnant silence punctuated by the crinkling of a wrapper. an extra large, sterile bandaid was placed over the wound after she applied something green and foul-smelling atop the now-closed gash; his grunted query was met with a curt,

"antiseptic."

and he was let go with instructions to return the next day for a dressing change.

he lied to himself. he waited until it was dark to show up the next day, well into the summer night, just to be placed in the same position - under the lone hanging lamp, under her.

cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme, complimented by a trail of herbal tea. she smelled like peaches, too, this time. or, perhaps, it were the blooming trees outside her window that snuck their sweet aroma indoors.

"healing nicely," she remarked off-handedly, seemingly oblivious to the rising level of his tension and his inner turmoil. "the pain not too bad? you seem grumpy. grumpier than usual."

this time, he waited until she removed herself from his form to bark a terse laugh.

"no, pretty girl," he eyed her in the dusky, dusty room and received a crooked smile for his troubles, "long day 'is all."

"tell me about it," she huffed, shoulders sagging a bit more than he would have liked.

"who's the prick bothering ya?" he couldn't help it, his mind immediately went... places. surely, he wasn't the only one who noticed her pretty.

"no-one but my own damn brain," she scoffed, seemingly at herself, "and maybe the dick from number 17. it's like he's doing it on purpose."

"doin' what now?" daryl's voice dropped, his eyes squinted. his palm migrated to the handle of his knife, a gesture utterly subconscious.

"gettin' injured," she grumbled, no real heat behind her words, "got shot with a dart last week, sprained his ankle on a routine perimeter check today. how did that man serve 6 years in the army is beyond me."

daryl's head tilted as his chest tensed, heart thudded uncomfortably against his ribs.

"isn't carol taking care of all the broken bones?" he asked, tone laced with suspicion.

she turned to face him; he felt, more than saw, the annoyed roll of her eyes.

"he demands a real doctor," the woman shook off the wrapper before leaning back into him and placing it over his wound in one swift, irritated gesture, "how come nobody's told him I'm just a good faker? everyone knows by this point. all he does is waste resources-"

"woah, woah," daryl's voice rose briefly as he attempted to halt the incoming ramble. not that he didn't want to hear what she had to say, it was just unusual to see the quiet woman so... not herself.

"sorry," she shot immediately, looking away, "he just gives me the creeps. I know it's mean but-"

"no," daryl shook his head immediately, "if he's botherin' you, he's botherin' you and he needa back off."

she chuckled as she leaned back to observe the results of her work. her eyes were tired and a little ashamed. "say whatchu want but you southern fellas are real gentlemen," her smile was soft.

nobody has ever spoken to him like that, much less referred to him as a gentleman. through the momentary awe, daryl let the corners of his lips tilt up in a closed-lipped, shy smile.

he didn't return the next day, and the day after, having been deemed healthy enough by rick to be sent off to hunt some game - all activities classified as "takin' it easy" by the community leader. people needed food, growing kids needed the protein.

the gash on his chest bled a little, not much, and the scab that formed afterwards looked proper, thick and healthy.

as he reached the gates upon his return, he could make out some shouting just on the border of the little gated town. a few voices did their best to be heard, one right over the other.

"whazzat?" he quizzed the guard.

"lil doctor lady," the guard responded, frowning, squinting into the distance, "and big john, arguin' over something. dunno what. rick's there too."

daryl did not like the sound of that. he didn't like that at all. he dumped the three deer right there on the muddy ground as soon as he crossed the threshold of the safe zone, powerwalking towards the arguing trio.

"... 'm tellin' ya, rick, she's makin' shit up! I risk my life every day goin' out and patrollin', getting the damn supplies so she could patch me up like she's s'posed to!" big john, red in the face and fists clenched, stood looming over rick as he defended himself to the unimpressed sheriff, "'s'not like I broke my damn arm on purpose!"

immediately, daryl's bullshit meter went off as alarms blared in his head at full volume. big john's words were a little too loud, a little too passionate.

rick's eyes darted towards daryl's rapidly approaching form; that was all he needed to know about the situation.

"if that were true, you'd have no problem with carol attending to you, man," for the time being, rick successfully played the good cop.

"she's not even a real doctor!"

"neither am I!" the woman finally spoke up, shooting a glance at daryl, too, as her shoulders dropped slightly.

"hey, what's your fuckin' problem?" daryl finally stomped close enough for big john to jump at his words.

"none of your damn business," he shot back immediately, switching to stare down at the woman. it wasn't hard for him to make her shrink: his name was big john for a reason.

"don't bother tha nice lady," daryl scoffed, straightening up, "least you want a fuckin' knuckle sandwich. first and final warning."

"oh, fuck you man," big john turned to daryl, taking a step towards the archer, chest puffing out with the force of his rage. his left hand was in a makeshift cast; the right one rose, rapidly flying, aimed at daryl's face.

it didn't take the archer much effort to side-step the large man. he was immediately responding with a punch of his own.

big john staggered, taking a couple of unsteady steps back; within the next second, another punch connected with his face, sending blood and snot flying as he fell on the ground noisily.

"that's enough!" rick yelled, pulling on daryl's shoulder.

for the time being, the archer was content to let himself be steered away from the fight.

somewhere behind him, a feminine voice mumbled something less-than-polite, sighing, as she joined rick in pulling him away from big john.

"you stay away from her, dipshit!" daryl added hotly, "fuckin' weirdo."

"c'mon big guy," she cooed softly, nodding to rick as she steered him towards her house, "let's get you cleaned up."

he let her drag him indoors, towards the kitchen sink where the smell of herbs was the most potent. throughout the dirt and grime that always followed his hunts, it was a welcome respite. earthy and natural in the best, the most tender of ways.

the woman checked his knuckles, tugging on his big, meaty hand to place it under a stream of cold tap water; his skin was clear, once the grime and blood and dirt was washed off. a coupla punches was nothing, his knuckles too seasoned to sustain an injury from something as simple as a fistfight.

in broad daylight, there was no need for her to perch atop him to check the wound on his chest.

daryl swallowed, following her hands with his eyes. in her pristine, clean kitchen, he'd never felt more out of place as she moved aside the neck of his sweat-stained shirt and touched the soft skin of her fingertips to the scab, checking for infection.

the corners of her mouth finally, finally tilted up. an angry, upset expression had no place on her face; daryl could feel himself deflate as the cloud over the head of the little doctor lady finally, finally dissipated.

"you didn't even tear the stitches, I'm impressed," she complimented him softly, brushing the shirt collar back in place and smoothing it out with her palm, "they're dissolvable, luckily. go wash up and come back, I'll put some antibiotic ointment on it just in case. okay?"

her touch burned, but it was a sweet sort of fire. the kind that remained in his mouth after a particularly delicious batch of spicy wings, blooming as he took a deep breath.

he wanted to chase it with his tongue.

his nostrils flared as he exhaled.

"okay, dar?"

she had a nickname for him. she stared at him with those round, trusting eyes, not knowing that in truth, he was no better than big john.

daryl's cheeks flamed.

"okay," he mumbled, unable to refuse her anything when her eyes.., "dun look at me like dat."

"like what?" she frowned again and oh no, this was so much worse than the earnest concern written plain as day on her face just seconds ago.

his heart hammered in his chest. his fingers twitched. he swallowed the lump in his throat, shuffled his feet.

"cya," finally, his legs cooperated! he ran out of the house like the coward that he was.

he didn't come back as she'd requested. he couldn't. instead, he stubbornly stood under an ice cold stream of water, as long as could manage - and it did exactly nada for his racing thoughts or his traitorous body.

the soap carol had made smelled like herbs.

it smelled like the kitchen where tender fingers prodded at his skin, where soft hair briefly brushed his cheek, where the overhead lamp illuminated a halo around the head of the woman that found a home inside his head on most nights.

dusk fell over the settlement as a knock disturbed the miniscule amount of peace he'd managed to find for himself in the darkness of the basement.

"daryl?" rick's voice yelled, "I gotta favour to ask!"

he was there in an instant. "whassup?"

"the doctor lady. big john's bin runnin' his mouth since dinner, ion like it. I think he's gonna be up to no good."

what daryl liked about rick was his straightforwardness and common sense. such concern had place to be. daryl nodded, walking inside to put on a clean shirt and pick up his crossbow.

"I appreciate it," rick clapped him on the shoulder, "I'd stick around myself but judy is teething and michonne has been up for three nights already, m'afraid she's gonna..."

"no probl'm, rick, ah get it," daryl cut off the rambling man, "you go take care of your baby girl."

as daryl made way to the woman's house, his mind switched to defense mode effortlessly. he knew just the perfect spot to perch himself in, away from prying eyes and well within the observation range of the entries to her house. it wasn't the most comfortable of spots but summer nights were warm and the birdsong from the trees provided a childhood sort of comfort under the clear, dark skies.

as he prepared to settle in, the main door to her house cracked open.

she wore short, thin cotton shorts and a worn out t-shirt and nothing else, a steaming cup of tea clutched securely between her palms. her eyes immediately landed on his dark figure attempting to blend into the dusky underbrush.

"I thought you'd be a no-show," she remarked, a playful tone colouring her voice.

daryl had enough conscience to look sheepish. "uhh," he replied, eloquently, taking a hesitant step towards her house. the light breeze blew the hot fumes of her tea right into his nose, momentarily clouding his judgement. he barely could tear his eyes away from the soft, unblemished skin of her legs.

"c'mon," she waved him in, and he followed, obedient, quiet, like a puppy. she made a brief stop at the stove before pushing a cup into his hands, "I made some tea. not terribly sweet for you, I hope. you seem like a black coffee kinda guy."

the upbeat, companionable chatter sent daryl's head reeling. it's like she was completely oblivious to his clumsiness, to his bluntness, to the awkwardness that seemed to take deep root in his bones whenever he was in her presence.

he took a sip, a courtesy, as she made him sit in that recliner chair again, her body warm and comfortable above him. isn't that what you wanted, moron? his head screamed at him, the annoying voice eerily similar to his late brother's.

"it's okay to let me know you're uncomfortable," she spoke quietly as she moved aside the collar of his shirt once more.

he shivered, it's not like he could help himself. "wha?"

"not everyone likes to be... touched," she briefly looked up, then back again as she rubbed the salve around his scabs, sharp chemicals and plastic disturbing the peaceful aroma of her herbal tea, "my ma used to yell at me to, like... stop hugging random people. sometimes I forget that not everyone is perfectly fine with jus' bein' groped."

"hmm," he managed, struggling not to sound like all of his christmases just had arrived at once. she wanted to touch him. well, not just him-

"these days, I'm not particularly keen on that either, but eventually, the touch starvation catches up to me. I'm just glad that, like, carol and rosita don't freak out or anything, when I play octopus with 'em."

"it's... okay," he had to drink to clear his throat, inhale to clear his mind. "ion mind, pretty girl," daryl tried for a smile and was sure it came more like a grimace. he desperately needed practice in that department.

she chuckled, a dulcet little noise, before her eyes shot up to his. whatever she was looking for, she found it; her hands, done with healing his external wounds, stroked slowly over his shoulders, mapping the broad, muscular expanse of them in one fluid motion. the tips of his hair tickled the tops of her palms.

with only a thin cotton barrier separating daryl's skin from hers, it was as close to heaven as he will ever allowed to be. the cup in his hand scalded his rough palms, hot ceramic burning through the callouses: it was like an afterthought of pain and nothing more.

her fingers connected behind his neck, the pads rubbing over the tense muscle there. the groan left his mouth unnoticed by him, until he could feel the smile on her face bloom just like the flowers outside her window.

"you like that?"

"mmm," he managed, weakly. something inside of him was crumbling. maybe it was the tea that had filled his veins with melted sugar and liquified the strong resolve to not let someone like her be tainted by someone like him.

she kept on kneading his neck and shoulders, like a damn cat working graveyard shift at the biscuit cookie factory.

daryl's deep inhale moved his whole body.

she staggered, brief and sweet, tilting heavily into him to keep up her balance and stop herself from falling over. graceful, she was not.

he was met with a parted mouth, so sweet and red and plump, like ripe cherries; right over his nose, just out of reach, sinful and tantalising in it's own right. the pink, moist meat of her tongue was tucked into the corner of it as her eyes narrowed, something between relief and concentration.

seeing him look, the mouth stretched into a smile, making it that much sweeter. she was looking at him, again, like- like that.

her hands faltered, she swayed in place; daryl's instincts got the better of him and he secured her, one hand holding her body by the hip to steady the sudden bout of clumsiness.

"m'sorry, imma klutz," she looked away sheepishly.

he squeezed her hip on response, letting her know it was okay. and it really was more than that: much to his wide-eyed wonder. he felt like he was the one who should be doing the apologizing. but not only did she not shake off his hand, oh no, she leaned further into him, her belly almost touching his bent forearm.

it took a gargantuan amount of effort just to not pull her in all the way. she was most inviting to touch, all soft curves courtesy of semi-regular meals and tender skin despite the blazing summer sun.

daryl's thumb moved up and down the cotton of her shorts absent-mindedly. the sweet little sighs falling from her lips were hard to miss. almost as if it was someone else pushing her into his arms, a well-meaning ghost perhaps; she tilted in on herself to soak up the warmth of his large, hot body.

a trail of goosebumps ran across his scalp, starting from the place she was rubbing gentle circles into it - at the back of his head, where his hairline met his nape. if he was capable of purring, he would.

instead, he groaned again, eyelashes fluttering, casting a moving shadow on his sharp cheeks. his reward was an equally-content sounding sigh as it drafted into his nose, warm and earthy.

the empty cup thudded against the table where he placed it.

her fingers parted his hair gingerly, taking great care to avoid potential tangles. some finer, smaller hairs still pulled, taking some of his self-deprecation and resolve with 'em as the motion traversed his body in a jolt and settled somewhere deep inside the pit of his belly.

this was getting dangerous.

daryl opened his eyes and stared up.

[butlervibesonly]

𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 | Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n's having the time of the month, definitely not feeling good. But that is something Austin couldn't help with.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : mentions of period, period pain, ...

It is that time of month again. You wake up to a sharp pain in your lower belly, or so called cramps. Oh, how you hate those. You groan quietly, trying not to to wake Austin up. You reach for the phone on the nightstand with your hand, looking out the window next to Austin's part of the bed. The sun has barely risen yet.

5:13 am. That is way too early. As soon as you put the phone back on the table, your lower stomach cramps again – and that is a sign for you to get up and get some painkillers. You carefully pull off yourself the comforter that you and Austin share and carefully slide out of bed.

When you arrive to the kitchen, you search for the painkillers, and as soon as you find them you pour yourself a glass of water, swallowing the pill. You're probably already awake enough, but it's still very early in the morning, so you go back to the bedroom.

Austin lies peacefully on his back, only in pajama pants so his bare chest shines in the morning breeze. His lips are little parted as he lets out quiet and slow snores. You lay back in bed with a smile. It will take some time for the pill to help and the cramps will continue, hopefully not too long.

Well, you wish for not too long. Another wave of cramps hits you and at this time you whimper more loudly than you would like to. Curling on the bed, you pull your legs to your stomach, shutting your eyes.

That obviously wakes Austin up. He blinks few times, trying to get out of sleep into reality. When he turns his head, he sees you curled up on the bed. "Darlin', what's wrong?" he asks, his voice groggy still so soft. You look at him, whimpering again.

"Um, it's the time, again..." you explain, curling back to your position. Austin hums in understanding. What he actually does is pulling you closer to him. "Did you took a painkiller?" Austin asks, his hand rubbing your back.

"Mhm, few minutes ago," you mumble. "It's going to take forever before it starts any effect!" you complain and Austin chuckles quietly. He turns so he lies on his side, facing you. "Let me help before it starts working."

He runs his hand through the covers as he reaches your stomach. Lifting up your shirt a little he actually spreads his hand on your belly, rubbing on gently circles. You start to feel the warm his hand provides and it feels so better.

"Is it better?" Austin asks, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Yea... Thank you..." He smiles in the kiss, finding you so adorable. "I felt like there was a demon fighting inside of me," you say, jokingly. "My poor girl," Austin runs his finger through your hair.

You both eventually fall asleep again, in each others arms, his hand still placed on your belly.

~ Later that morning ~

When you wake up again, this time it's the sun shining in your eyes. Looking at the bed, Austin is no longer here. He actually notices you're awake so he sits beside you. You can see he's fully clothed, a smile on his face.

"Morning, baby." he pats your leg. You smile, happy to see him. Your stomach no longer hurts but you feel more tired. "What time is it?" you ask, stretching yourself. "Around 9 am. I went shopping and got you some tea that should help with the pain, your favorite chocolate and also…” he pulls something out from behind his back.

"Some flowers." you look at the bouquet of little roses. "Awh! You shouldn't have, Aus!" your heart melts. Austin always knows how to make you happy when you're feeling horrible, and it's no different now.

"Why shouldn't I? I'd do anything for my girl." he plants a kiss on your lips. "Are you feeling better?" Austin asks, placing the flowers on your nightstand. "Definitely better than earlier." you say, sitting up. He pulls you in his arms, kissing you once more again.

"You'll be relaxing today, okay?" he says dominantly, making you smile. "Aight', doctor Butler."

"No, I mean it. You deserve a rest, understand?" You nod. You two spend the morning with breakfast in bed, watching some shows as Austin takes care of you.

[urdreamydoodles]

HIII I'm a fan of yours and I love your writing style!! May I request a Quicksilver (X-Men evolution or X-Men Apocalypse one) X reader! Where reader has the ability to copy mutant power (she's base on my OC) and has a love-hate relationship with Peter and reader Gets sick and is in the her room resting! Thanks!!

Peter Maximoff (X-Men: Apocalypse) x Sick!Reader

You are sick and Peter comes to see you in your room (Love/Hate relationship)

Sick and resting in your room, you're unexpectedly visited by Peter Maximoff, with whom you shares a love-hate relationship. Despite your usual banter and tension, Peter stays by your side, revealing a softer, more caring side as he looks after you.

Chatacter: Peter Maximoff (X-Men: Apocalypse)

I'm so happy every time I hear I have a new fan! I hope you like it ♡ — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

- You’d never admit it out loud, but being sick sucks. Even for someone like you, who can copy the powers of any mutant you come into contact with. Usually, that ability would come in handy, but not today. Your head pounds, your body aches, and you’re sprawled across your bed, buried under a heap of blankets that should make you feel warm but somehow aren’t enough. It doesn’t help that Peter Maximoff, aka Quicksilver, decided today of all days to show up at your door, acting like his usual cocky self.

- Peter’s been lounging around your room for hours now, leaning against your dresser with that infuriating smirk on his face. He’s tossing one of your pillows up and down, occasionally speeding around the room to catch it just before it hits the ground. You glare at him from your bed, your voice hoarse as you say, “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” He just grins, his silver hair falling into his eyes as he shrugs. “Nah, this is way more fun.” You roll your eyes, even though, deep down, you don’t really mind his company. It’s annoying, sure, but there’s something about Peter that keeps pulling you back. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

- “You’re sick,” he says, matter-of-factly, like he’s just figured it out. You narrow your eyes at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, Peter, I had no idea. Thanks for the heads-up.” He speeds over to the side of your bed in a blink, resting his hand on your forehead. “Yep, you’re burning up,” he says, his voice a mix of concern and teasing. You swat his hand away, but your heart skips a beat. He’s too close, and even though you feel like crap, the tension between you two is still there, crackling in the air like static.

- The thing with Peter is that for every snarky comment, there’s a quiet moment that follows. He sits at the edge of your bed now, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “You know, if you wanted attention, you didn’t have to get sick,” he jokes, but there’s a softness in his voice. You don’t reply, feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. It’s rare for the two of you to be like this—alone, with no distractions, no witty comebacks. Just you and him. The silence stretches on, and for once, it’s not awkward.

- You shift slightly, wincing as the soreness in your muscles flares up again. Peter notices immediately, his brow furrowing. Before you can protest, he’s gone in a blur, only to reappear seconds later with a glass of water and some painkillers. “Here,” he says, almost shyly, handing them to you. You take them without a word, surprised at how thoughtful he’s being. This wasn’t like him. You’ve always known Peter as the guy who runs away from responsibility, who never sticks around long enough to care. But right now, he’s here, and he’s staying.

- “You don’t have to stay, you know,” you murmur, though part of you hopes he doesn’t listen. He shrugs, looking away, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips. “I know. But I’m fast, remember? I’ve got time.” He leans back against the headboard, his shoulder brushing against yours. The contact sends a shiver through you, and you’re not sure if it’s from the fever or something else entirely. You turn your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He’s pretending to be engrossed in something on the ceiling, but you can tell he’s aware of your every move.

- The love-hate dynamic between the two of you is exhausting at times. It’s a constant push and pull—one minute, you can’t stand each other, and the next, you’re sharing moments like this. It’s confusing, frustrating, but undeniably exciting. You wonder if Peter feels it too, this unspoken tension that’s been building for who knows how long. Maybe that’s why he’s here now, sticking around even though you’re at your worst. Maybe he’s finally starting to realize what’s been right in front of him all along.

- You feel yourself drifting off, the exhaustion finally catching up to you. As your eyes flutter closed, you feel Peter shift beside you. His hand brushes against yours for just a second, hesitant but deliberate. “Get some rest, okay?” he whispers, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t respond, too tired to form words, but you feel the corner of your lips tug upward into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, Peter Maximoff isn’t as impossible as you thought.

[xetlynn]

an artists muse- a viktor fic

four.

[three] [four] [five]

all i crave, is to fall away from myself.

It’s exhausting. To live with an issue most people don’t have. The stares of others while walking past. Knowing that no matter how much medicine you take, no matter how many doctors visits. Nothing. Absolutely nothing will change. 

Viktor grits his teeth, scrummaging through his night stand beside his bed. Aiming to find his painkillers along with the muscle relaxers he was prescribed most recently due to the pain in his right leg. Never gets better when the pain randomly decides to transpire on the most arbitrary times. Under no circumstances is he ever prepared for it either. 

Since a baby he has had to endure it. Born with a malformed leg, born with a weakness stunting his experience of being a child. As others obtained the involvement in physical games on the playground without worrying about falling to the ground within seconds. Or stumbling over their own leg attached to their body because it’s dragging them down. 

Envy filled his every bone. Envy and annoyance engraved into him as others to this day feel warranted to assist him with everything. He hated asking others for help. He hated when people helped him without him asking. 

Viktor’s hand at last detects the pill bottles, snatching them towards him. He roughly opens the painkiller, swallowing it without water. Doing the same thing with the muscle relaxers. He squeezes his eyes shut, still having to undergo the discomfort in his limb. He tosses the pills into the drawer once again. 

No going to class for him. He doesn’t even check his phone for the time as he grips onto his pillow, trying to fall back asleep. Only being able to do so when the medicine hits his system. Knocking out instantly. 

You purse your lips, tapping your foot on the ground as you await Viktor at his normal spot in the cafe. Holding the coconut puff in one hand and your coffee in the other. You had already finished your cherry danish. “Where is he?” You mumble impatiently, looking over to the clock that hung on the wall to see it was past 7:45. You had to get going to your class. 

“He must’ve slept in.” You sigh, opening your backpack and placing the treat in the bag. Making sure it won’t get too crushed with all of your things. You take a last big drink of your iced coffee before throwing it away. Walking out of the door. 

You want to text Viktor but at the same time you’d rather not bother him, if he had slept in he probably needed it. Not knowing if he’s a light sleeper you didn’t want to awake him by the notification coming from you. So you decided to message him later to check in with him. 

“[Name]! Wait for me!” A voice cuts you from your thinking, you glance over your shoulder to see Gert. You smile, offering a small wave. “Hii!” You slow your pace, allowing her to catch up with you. “I’m so excited to have another class with you!” She swings an arm over your shoulders. Your eyes glimmer at her sweet words. “I am too! I can show you so many of my skills! You can show me your secret skills you have yet to show me!” You exuberantly say, leaning your head upon her shoulder. 

“You’re going to be disappointed for sure, I’ve never sculpted before.” She nervously admits and you scrunch your nose. “I would never be disappointed! I can help you.” You assure her with a small nudge, the both of you entering the art class. 

“Oh no way! I didn’t know we had this class together!” You look to see who that came from, your eyes widen at the sight of Ekko. You squeal with excitement. “Two friends! Amazing!” You jump up and down. Your professor eyes you up and down from their desk because of your sudden outburst. 

You don’t pay any mind to it though, you didn’t even notice it. “Oh this is so cool, four people per table!” You point to the desks around the room. Leading the way to the left side of the room, planting down in a seat. Gert sits alongside you as Ekko was across from you. 

Your knees bounce up and down, truly happy with how this class is turning out. Unfortunately in the back of your mind though all you can think about is Viktor. And why he wasn’t at the cafe this morning. 

Fellow students pile into the classroom, finding their spots. You wonder who was going to join your table. Hopefully you’d become their friend as well. 

Luck was definitely not on your side. Fate decided another path for you. “Ohmygosh! This is crazy!” A high pitch voice sounds, ringing in your ears. Your body freezing, the bouncing of your knees coming to a full stop. “[Name]! We have a class together! This is so exciting!!!” The ginger installs herself to the empty seat. Your mouth goes dry, agape at the sight. 

You pull yourself together, forcing out a fake chuckle. “Just like old times!!” Your cheeks hurt from forcing a hoax of a smile. “Love it!” You grit your teeth. Ekko furrows his eyebrows at your behavior but the professor already begins their lecture before anything else can be said between you four at the table. 

“My name is Professor Shoola. Or Dr. Shoola. Whichever. Nice to meet you guys.” They didn’t seem very genuine with their words, continuing on. You sat straight up, ignoring Maddie who kept trying to whisper things to you. 

“Getting right into it, our main focus in this class is learning the art of sculpting. Some of you may be masters within this subject. Others may be… just learning.” Their eyes were bored, scanning the room. Observing and learning their class within each appearance. “Art is encompassing the earth, every turn. Every crack and mile. Art is within you. Beauty is all around you. Beauty is what you make of it. Art is what you make of it.” They explain with passion. 

“Hopefully as I teach you, you will find what you seek out in life. Let art guide you to what you want. Artists need a muse. Life is one's muse. Whether that be a person. Or a thing. Or a place.” Professor Shoola’s voice was like silk and you wanted to hear everything she had to say. You almost giggled at the last bit as that was the definition of a noun. But you calmed yourself. 

Relentless to listen. “I know it is the first day in this class but I will already be announcing your first project. You probably already have quite a few from your other classes but don’t fret with this one. You will have two months to complete this.” They pull down a poster over their chalkboard. 

“The Piltover University Thanksgiving Art show.” It read with older sculptures printed over it. You perked up more if that was even possible. 

“Find your muse and I want your sculpture to reflect it. During this time you will be given worksheets with questions to guide you there.” They show a stack of papers. “This is today’s.” They glide around the room, passing four sheets to each table. Gert picks up the stack for your table, handing them out to each of you. 

You ogle down at the paper. The first question being: “What makes you different from others?” You jut out your bottom lip. Such a deep, loaded question. 

“Talk with your table mates. Or do it by yourself.” Shoola sits in her seat and you let out a breath. 

“I know the first answer for you, [Name].” Gert whispers, pointing at your paper. You look at her with a confused expression. “You do?” 

“You’re kind.” She answers. “Hah!?” You raise a brow, “almost everyone is kind, Gerty!” You whine out, “that does not make me different from others.” You slump down. 

“No, no. You [Name]. Are a genuine, kind person. I guess to put it in a better word. You’re altruistic.” She smiles at you. “Is that a real word?” Maddie chimes into your conversation, you have to constraint yourself from rolling your eyes. 

“Yes,” Ekko chuckles. “I have to agree, either that or benignant.” He nods his head and you sheepishly look away, waving your hand at them. “Awe shucks. Too sweet.” You giggle. 

“I don’t think I’m going to put that though. I think I’m going to pause on the first question for now.” You tell them, picking up you backpack so you can take out a pencil. You open the bag and Viktor’s coconut puff plops out on the table. It was flattened. Darn. 

“Sorry, that was meant for-” you paused, why’d you pause? You didn’t know. “Me, I uh was going to save it.” You over explain, Gert and Ekko give you a side glance as they were already jotting things down on their papers. “Can I have it? I didn’t have breakfast.” Maddie rubs her tummy dramatically. 

Your shoulders tensed up, your eyes flickering from the puff to the ginger girl. It was Viktors… You didn’t want to give it away. “Um… I guess so!” You shrug your shoulders, sliding it over to her. Mentally cursing at yourself for doing it afterwards. 

You take out a pencil and shove your backpack to the ground. Now irritated as you had to watch Maddie enjoy a treat that wasn’t even for her. All because you were too “altruistic.” 

You clench down on your pencil, glaring at the questions on the paper. All the questions were intrusive in your opinion but when you looked around, everyone was writing with ease.

“Have you ever been in love?” “What’s your favorite thing about yourself?” “If you were to meet yourself as someone else would you be your friend?” “What’s your favorite object that you own?” 

You thought this was art class. Not therapy. 

The end of the class was announced and everyone stood up. You hadn’t written down a single thing. You sit there, staring off into space. Gert places a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” She asks and you grin up at her. “Yeah! I just want to talk to the professor. See you later, ‘kay!?” You abruptly shoot up, holding the paper close to you as you grab your backpack. Ekko gives you a look, wondering what your deal was. 

“I’ll wait for you! We so have to hangout today!” Maddie gleams, not giving you the chance to respond as she skips outside the class, waiting for you outside of it. The other two give you thumbs up as they walk away. 

You make your way to Dr. Shoola. “Yes?” They ask, looking up at you through their lashes. “Hi, I’m [Name].” You introduce yourself and they lean back in their chair. “Okay.” They say, raising a brow. 

“I uh, I don’t understand the point of these questions.” You admit, showing your paper that only had your name written down along with small doodles. 

“What don’t you understand?” They cross their arms and your breath hitches. “I mean, I understand the point of them. I just… I can’t answer them.” You tell them, gnawing at the dead skin on your bottom lip. “Why?” 

Your face flushes. “My thoughts are harsh.” You confess, standing tall nonetheless at your depressive disclosement. “Unfortunately that’s the point of this, [Name].” They give you a pitiful smile. “What you think of yourself is what drives you to be who you are. Drives you to your muse.” They tell you and you kiss your teeth at their words. 

“If it makes you feel any better, only I will see this. And I’m not grading you on judgement. I’m grading you on getting it done.” They say. You nod your head silently. Pressing your lips together into a line. “Okay. Thank you for your time.” You excuse yourself, heading towards the exit. 

“You can talk to me any time, [Name]. Please know that.” They call after you and you look back at them. “Don’t say that, I’ll come to you for everything.” You light-heartedly joke with a close eyed smile before continuing on your way out. 

You go out into the hall and Maddie clings onto your arm. “I’ve been waiting for a message from you!” She admits to you and you hum. “Sorry, been busy.” You lie. 

“Dang, that sucks! I’ve been so free lately that I guess I didn’t realize other people have lives!” She laughs and you force out a dry chuckle, zoning out. Not really paying attention to anything else she talks about. 

As the two of you reach the campus cafeteria you pull away gently. “I have to meet someone, somewhere. Talk later?” You fib once again and Maddie smiles. “Of course! See you, [Name]!” She waves and you walk away. Deep in thought, thinking about the paper that you still had stuck in your hand. 

Entering your dorm you throw your stuff at your desk, along with the stupid paper from art class. You fling yourself onto your bed, letting out a loud groan. “Hm? [Name] I’m trying to take a nap~” Powder whines, stretching out her body. 

“Sorry.” You murmur, taking out your phone and facing the wall away from your best friend. You open instagram and see Viktor hasn’t been active all day. It’s already 11 am and he doesn’t seem like the type to sleep in. 

Your worry seeps into your brain, infesting all parts of your nerves. You go to the messages. 

—----------------------------------------------------

love.[name]3- heyyyyyooo, missed you at the cafe vikkie:(

                                                                             Delivered

—----------------------------------------------------

Viktor grumbles as sunlight hits his eyes through his curtains. He covers his eyes, thankfully the pain in his leg has subsided. He lets out a relieved sigh before reaching over and grabbing his phone. Snatching the charger off of it. His eyes squint as he reads the notifications. It was currently 1pm.

Jayce and Vi were being idiots in their group chat, talking about whether Mel or Caitlyn were hotter. He rolled his eyes but then saw a notification from Instagram. 

[love.[name]3 messaged you!]

His thumb shakily presses it, taking him to the chat. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

love.[name]3- heyyyyyooo, missed you at the cafe vikkie:(

vik.tor_e- sorry, don’t feel good:(

vik.tor_e- i should’ve let you know, sorry again

love.[name]3- don’t EVER apologize for not feeling good

love.[name]3- like ever, i’m so serious >:( 

vik.tor_e- lol, ok 

vik.tor_e- i should be good by tomorrow, already feel better

vik.tor_e- so i’ll see you on monday fs :)

love.[name]3- i better! get yur rest!!!!

—------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: if you want to be added lmk! @policedeer @im-just-a-simp-le-whore

[tojislibrvry]

★ ︵ @ fem!toji / reader , sexuāl fantasies , cūnnilingus , strāpping , fingēring , perv toji , genderbent au , roommate au

it is almost 2 am when you hear someone ring the bell. it was a warm night, you had shed layers of clothes opting to wear a tank top and shorts. the air was thick with humidity, a layer of sweat making your body glow under the dim lights of your apartment. you get up from your comfortable position on bed — legs curled and on your side scrolling on your phone. stretching your sore arms you walk to your front door.

you look through the peephole and see none other than your new roommate toji. you both met for the first time in a cafe after she answered to your post looking for a roommate to split rent. she was truly a sight to behold. decked in comfortable looking clothes, a pair of baggy jeans and a form fitting t-shirt that fit her large frame perfectly, a hint of her calvin klein boxers peeking through. she was charming, and nonchalant and you decided at that moment that you would not mind sharing an apartment with her.

you open the door and you are met with the sight of a very drunk toji.

"... i think i'm going to throw up."

girl.

toji's eyes burn as she throws up into the toilet bowl, stomach churning with nausea already. she can feel the beer make it's way back up to her mouth and she swears that she'll never drink again.

she feels your soft hand on her back as you coo at her plight. you draw soothing circles on her skin as she heaves again.

"s'okay toji, it's almost over." you say as she pukes her gut out for the final time and collapses on the bathroom floor.

you help her up and get her to brush her teeth. up and down, side to side. the foamy sounds growing louder as you move the toothbrush. she's taller than you, by a lot of inches than you can count so to reach up to her is a struggle, arms cramping up with the effort.

she's still very drunk, bubbles of her intoxication bursting around her.

you bring her to her room when you notice her outfit. she's wearing a black tank top, a little too tight on her skin paired with leather pants that seem a little too warm for the weather.

she seems to realise that too because the next thing you know she's tugging off her pants, sliding it off her long legs.

you quickly turn your back to her, fingers pressed against your wandering eyes.

"toji! y-you can't just do that!!" you whisper-yell, hoping she would stop nearly stripping in front of you.

"was too hot, fuck—" she mumbles, "—m never fucking wearing leather again."

"are you dressed ?" you sigh in defeat, back still turned.

".... yeah, look at me baby."

toji was a flirty, sleazy and oh so mean drunk.

you turn to see her only wearing her thong and a graphic tee that is conveniently pulled over the curvature of her ass.

she looks at you face flushed and still manages to sneak in a wink.

".... i'm leaving."

she gets up and grabs you before you can leave pulling you into the bed with her. she holds you close as your face is pressed impossibly close to her chest, close enough to hear her beating heart.

"nooooo ... stay with me, please."

the next morning toji wakes up with the kind of headache that makes her want to hit her head against the wall. she groans as she gets up, back all kinds of fucked up. she rubs her eyes, sitting cross legged on the bed. once her vision clears, she notices something on her bedside table.

' your head probably hurts a lot rn >:( , so here's a painkiller and some water. take it after you eat the soup i've made. it's in the fridge ( heat it up for 30 seconds ) ! take care ~ ♡ p.s - your phone should be at 100% now , it's charging in the living room '

oh

she heats the soup and it tastes just right, making her feel a lot better. her phone is not dead and fully charged, her room definitely cleaned up and she realises even her makeup from the night before was removed. she takes the painkiller and heads to the couch where she pulls her phone out to text shiu.

t. fushiguro : i need to fuck my roommate shiu 🐾 : girl, that's gay t. fushiguro : ...

it becomes unbearable for toji to be around you. her once 'super nice!' roommate becomes the star of every single one of her wet dreams. it doesn't even take a lot from you for toji to bite her fist in frustration.

you wearing a checked apron ? wet. you kissing her cheek goodbye ? horny. you passed out on the couch snoring ? she wants to eat you.

you were just so fucking cute.

she also starts wishing that you stopped becoming comfortable around her. just the other day, she was grabbing a quick bite from the kitchen when she's met with the sight of you wrapped in a fluffy turkey towel coming out of your shared bathroom.

"t-toji!" you yelp in surprise with her sudden presence. her heart beats so hard, as you come closer. your hair dripping wet, bare faced and a soft smile painted on your lips. the towel doesnt do much. its wrapped tightly around your breasts and she can see the soft peaks of your nipples. the towel was also way too short to cover your glistening thighs. fuck.

she thinks about the way you looked that one time as her fingers push deeper into her cunt. she tries not to think of you like that. you were too sweet to be the main character of her perverted fantasies. she imagines your eyes screwed tightly as she fucks deeper into you with her strap. she imagines every single one of her wildest fantasies.

would you bite ? would you scratch ? she thinks how delicious the drag of your manicured nails against her back would feel ? would you cry ? sob as she plays with your pretty clit ? she wants you under her already.

all of her fantasies manifests into existence on a normal saturday. she comes home to you seated in the dining table, with your lips pursed. you barely notice that toji's back home, mind clearly distressed.

"everything alright roomie ?" she asks, startling you. your eyes widen animatedly and you gasp.

"toji!" you take a deep breath in, "we need to talk."

fuck, toji thinks to herself. you probably found evidence of her debauchery somehow and wanted her to leave.

she clambers over to you and takes a seat, palms clammy. "y'er scaring me, doll."

you shake your head, anguished. "toj' we can't be roommates anymore..." you drop your head down, like a kicked puppy.

"oh."

"is it because you found my stash of your stolen pant—" "i am attracted to you toj—"

HUH

your mouth hangs, jaw dropped. toji is quick to turn red. she curses her stupid mouth. why didn't she wait till you talked ?

"you STOLE my panties ?"

"you are attracted to ME ?"

both of you fall silent. situation way out of both your hands.

"we should fuck now, obviously."

"you can't just say that !!"

toji had imagined you in 38 positions, 53 different outfits and 120 separate plot lines all involving you with your eyes rolled up your head with pleasure.

none of those fantasies even came close to the feeling of you sat on her lap, rubbing yourself against her thighs, your mewls don't go unnoticed as she bites your nipples, soft cries echoing through the room.

your nails raked against her naked back, eyes crossed in the simple pleasure of her thigh getting you off. she could feel you throbbing through the thin layer of frilly pink panties that you still had on.

you stop and look at toji, she almost worries that you don't want to continue this little game.

"toooji," you sound drunk, eyes lidded, "please let me taste you."

toji has you on your knees, carpet rubbing against your soft skin. her legs are sprawled out to the sides of your head, you vision looking straight at her pussy. she looks at you, elbows supporting her just so she can watch you try to give her head.

you start off slow, kissing her sensitive inner thighs. you take your time to press your lips softly against body, moist with arousal and sweat from the sweltering heat.

with precision, you lick a strong stripe along her slit. this action is enough to pull the softest sounding gasp from toji. you pull back, strands of her arousal attached to your lips. you calm your beating heart and try to ignore the way toji looks at you.

"go on, you were begging for this." she mocks you. you slowly use your fingers to spread her lips apart, a resounding squelch bounces off the walls.

"you are so wet toji....," you sigh dreamily as you press your lips to her clit. toji's hands make way to your head and pulls your hair, making you moan into her skin.

"y'er so nasty, so dirty for me, only me right baby ?" you nod and begin to make out with her cunt. you begin to drool as you taste her, the tanginess of her juices igniting your brain on fire.

you cry out together with her when you push your tongue into her pulsing hole, fluttering around the wet muscle that invades. she groans, pushing your head impossibly closer to her cunt.

you continue to eat her out, till her thighs begin to shake from exhaustion. you suddenly stop, looking up at toji with the widest doe eyes she's ever seen.

"please use me toji, wanna make you feel good."

that's all she needs to hear before she drags you back to her cunt, this time her hips grinding against your face. your nose bumps into her clit and she reels you in deeper.

"fuck, doll," she whispers, "i'm so fucking close." you hold on to her thighs as she fucks your mouth. your tongue is strained from the attention you give her, the wetness of her arousal like music to your ears. she does not pull you off when she squirts, painting your face with her juices.

your pants create clouds of heat against her skin, face flushed and content. suddenly you are flipped, eye to eye with toji caging you beneath her. her tits, enormous as they are, all for you to take in with your eyes hangs above you. there's a glint in her gaze that tells you that she's going to devour you.

"now, my turn."

toji has you in a mean mating press, as she fingers you. she grabs you and holds you close with a single hand on your waist. you know very well tomorrow you would wake up with the bruises of her rough padded fingers blooming on your skin. your legs ache from their bent position on her muscled shoulders.

"toooooji," you whine as you feel her spit on your cunt, "m' sensitive." you tremble with over sensitivity. your teeth clatters as she brings you closer to another orgasm, thumb working quickly against your sticky clit. she grins victoriously at your ruined state, makeup running down in streams as you look at her with stars in your eyes.

"fuck! don't look at me like that." she grunts as she shoves her thick fingers deeper into your aching cunt. she looks at the base of her knuckles, rings of your creamy release making her grow wetter with the anticipation of your release.

"baby, please, let me use my strap on you." she nearly begs, voice scratchy with need. you whine with embarrassment, eyes prickling with tears of humiliation as you nod.

"use your words," she taps your sloppy pussy. "tell me what exactly you want."

"stop teasing me..." you mewl, "please fuck me with your strap toji." you say with our fingers covering your eyes, streaming in vision of toji's satisfied face.

toji has you arched, ass rippling as she fucks into you with her emerald green strap. she grinds her hips against you. she bends over, hands massaging your tits and the way you would whimper whenever she rubbed your nipples between your fingers fell on deaf ears.

"atta girl, move against me just like that," she grouses as you throw slow circles against the strap. you feel her reach all the way up to your gut, the stretch nearly splitting you into half.

"hah! ngh—," you moan as you feel her bully her strap against your g-spot, nestled all the way in you, "—s'too much toj!" you try to say as you run from her strap. her pelvis bruises your ass with the force of her unforgiving thrusts. she cackles at your plight, suddenly flipping you to your side so she can fuck deeper.

the angle she has you in makes you feel like youve ascended heaven, the mean grind against your poor cunt as she slams her strap in a way that no one could withstand. all hours of her working out in the gym were paying off as she sees you sob, praying for release.

the plap-plap in the room doesn't stop until you squirt all over her strap, making a mess of your pink sheets.

"fuck! baby, that was amazing," she whispers at the wetness dripping off her body, she didnt know you could squirt. you crawl away from her before she grabs your ankle and pulls you back against her body again, "— awww baby, you didn't think that was all, right ?" she fills you up until you can't breathe, the wind knocked out of your lungs.

"once more, you can do it—" you can almost feel her throb, "fuck, you look so pretty." this time she brings her nimble fingers to work on your pretty clit, sticky and gooey as she rubs circles on it.

"i'm so close !—" you cry out, her fast fingers making you taste your release. you cry out, eyes closed tightly from the pleasure of orgasming for the fifth time that night. she whistles as you squirt again, body giving up from the buzzing between your legs. your lashes flutter ready for a quick nap.

"i love ya' toji." you mumble out as you fall asleep, feeling toji pull out. her cleaning you up is all a fuzz, wet cloth wiping away all the fluids using your body as a canvas. you swear on life that at some point, she whispers a 'i love you too baby.' but you chalk it up wishful thinking.

when you wake up from your nap, you see toji on the bed next to you opening up a package. she looks happy, small smile on her scarred lip. she's still half naked, wearing a green satin robe left untied. she looks beautiful as the moonlight hits her.

"oh, you up? " she says as she holds the scissors in her mouth to use her hands to rip off the tape.

"what do you have there ?" she doesn't reply until she brings out the product.

its curved, pink and looks like a double ended dildo with ridges on them.

"pink is your favourite colour right ?"

[storm-angel989]

hihiiiiii!! I'd liek to request val w reader and reader on her period/being sick jus fluffy comfort w that ?? I'm going through it and oml its terrible and I wanna b coddled by my comfort character lmao, thanks if u do do it. if not totally ok!!! hope u have a nice dayyyyy <3

I feel that pain in my soul! Enjoy and I hope this story brings you the comfort you crave. <3

He knew it was coming before she did. 

So when he came home from another long day and found her curled up in her bed with a heating pad, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. 

“Princessa, why are you in here?” He asked, as if he didn’t know the answer. 

She was embarrassed. He knew it, she knew it and they both pretended that wasn’t why she curled up in her own bed on the seventh day of each month. He wasn’t sure if it was the event itself or the fear of ruining his bedsheets that led her to crawl away from him, only for him to chase after her, reassure her each month that yes, he loved her, and no, he didn’t want her to sleep away from him. A little blood never hurt anyone, after all- it was the gift that would allow them to have children someday, if they so desired. 

But he didn’t say that- he knew better. The last time he tried to make a positive comment on the event, by telling her that his videos starring actresses on their period made the most profit, was met with general resistance and quite a bit of accusations about the stupidity of men. 

“It’s a curse,” she had proclaimed with tears streaming down her face. “And it hurts, Val!”

And so, he resigned himself to privately tracking her cycle- simply so he could be prepared for when the time inevitably hit. 

“I’m here,” she muttered in response. “Go away. I don’t feel good.” 

He knew she didn’t mean that. 

“I know, mi amore.” He replied as he sat on the bed next to her. “How can I make it better?”

“Something for the pain, and chocolate. Please. Lots of it.” She replied listlessly. 

Unease settled in Valentino’s chest. She never took painkillers- let alone asked for them. He pushed his hand against her forehead and to his relief, his palm was met with coolness. Probably just a bad bout of cramps. 

Carefully, he helped her sit up and held the heating pad in position while she swallowed down the pink pills. Once they were safely in her system, she tucked herself willingly into his arms. 

The weight of her head on his chest as she curled into a tighter ball made him wonder how she could handle this each month, handle the pain and continue to go about her life as if she wasn’t actively fighting her own biological battle. He tucked her head under his chin and kissed her forehead softly. She needed to understand that she didn’t have to be miserable by herself each month. That he loved her, no matter what was going on in her life. 

“Will you let me take you to our room, reader?” he asked gently, “I have your favorite stashed away. And I can order in dinner for us both, if you feel like eating. But you belong in there- next to me. Not hidden away in darkness.” 

That, at least, seemed to pique her interest. But as quickly as she considered it, her head rested back against him and she shook her head.

“It hurts to walk,” she whined quietly. “I don’t want to move.”

“Then allow me,” he responded. 

He wrapped her into his arms and, making sure the heating pad came with them, carried her off to the safety and comfort of their bedroom. He settled her against the overstuffed pillows and gently tugged the now cool heating pad out of her hands, replacing  it with a bar of chocolate and the television remote. 

She tore into the wrapper and took a bite. He raised an eyebrow at her. Had she eaten anything yet today? He mentally kicked himself for not checking on her earlier. He knew she had a tendency to not eat for the first few hours and then eat everything in sight. That usually resulted in a tummy ache in addition to the pain. His poor princessa didn’t need anymore pain. 

“I’m going to warm this up for you, you decide what you want for dinner,” he said slowly. “Can I convince you to drink something in the meantime?”

“Water, milk, I don’t care. And I know what I want for dinner.”

“Then text it to me, princessa, so I get it right,” he replied as he walked back towards the kitchen. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her settle back and flip on the television. Good, if nothing else, she seemed to be more content. 

In the kitchen, he tossed the heating pad into the microwave and checked his phone. Ah. Of course, she wanted her favorite meal from her favorite restaurant. He could have guessed that, but better to let her tell him.  He placed the order and pulled the now warm pad from the microwave. He carried it back to her and to his relief, she looked a little brighter. 

“What did you give me, Val? This is the best I’ve felt all day,” she demanded.

His eyes met hers. “Nothing you would object to, Princessa. I promise. Just relax. Dinner is on its way.” He laid the heating pad against her belly and smoothed back her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“Snuggles while we wait?” She asked as she reached for him. 

He gave her a smile and wrapped her into his arms as he climbed into bed with her. She snuggled into him and he held her gently, careful to keep the heating pad in place. Whatever his princessa wanted, he would make damn well sure she got. As he reached to rub her back, a realization came to mind. 

She asked to snuggle with him. That never happened during her time of the month. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to trust his love for her after all.

[ataliagold]

He Loves My Heart Shaped Sunglasses

For @astrangersummer week 11 prompt 'sunglasses.' Title from Every Man Has His Wish by Lana Del Ray.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: G

W/C: 939

Tags: Established Steddie, Steve has migraines, comfort, fluff, Eddie takes care of Steve, summer, Steve and Robin are soulmates

Summary: Steve's at a barbeque with his friends when he's hit with the painful consequences of too much sun.

___

Steve dreads summer, sometimes.

While there are parts of it he loves – long days by the pool with Robin and Eddie, the light hanging around for longer in the evenings but softer than the harsh light of midday, the kids biking everywhere so he didn’t have to chauffeur them around every damn day – he also hates other aspects of it.

The heat, for example, when it rises above pleasant into just uncomfortable and makes his head start to throb.

The noise of kids shrieking, of dogs barking at the park, of grills sizzling and music blasting from somewhere in the neighbourhood as everyone seemed to take advantage of the warmer weather all at once – it all added to the pain building behind his eyes.

But it was the bright sunlight that caused him the most grief sometimes, that made him squint and wince until pain lanced in his skull. Sunglasses helped a bit but he’d left them behind today - had only realized when he’d been most of the way here and he hadn’t wanted to turn around, hadn’t wanted to be late and worry Eddie because he could get through one damn day without them, right?

Now, he’s leant over the bench in the Munsons’ new and improved trailer, trying to let the coolness of the surface leach into his skin. He’s tempted to press his face to it too, try to stop the migraine building behind his eyes in its tracks.

He knows it won’t work.

Gripping the edge of the bench tight enough to make his fingers ache, he grinds his teeth, frustrated. Up until this point he’d been ok, had really thought he was going to get through this day without a migraine, but the temperature had climbed steadily after noon and that had been it.

Wayne’s grilling outside. Hopper is out there, the Byers and Max too, Eddie and Robin sipping drinks, the latter fanning herself with a book. Steve wishes he were out there too, wishes he could just sit outside and enjoy the summer without being crippled by the agony in his head again.

Footsteps behind him.

A warm hand on his waist, thumb slipping up under his t shirt and brushing over his hip.

“Sweetheart, you ok?” Eddie murmurs, and Steve huffs softly in response.

“Head hurts,” he manages, squeezing his eyes shut.

Eddie kisses the back of his neck gently. “You wanna lie down for a bit?” he whispers.

“No,” Steve grumbles, because he wants to be with his friends, wants to enjoy the day like everyone else.

Eddie waits, hums softly.

Steve caves. “Yes,” he mutters.

“Come on.” Eddie takes his hand, leads him down the narrow hallway into the bedroom that smelt vaguely of cigarette smoke and weed and Eddie.

Steve flops onto the bed, burrows immediately into familiar pillows, lets Eddie slip his shoes off and maneuver the t shirt from his back.

“I’ll be back,” he says, brushing gentle fingertips down Steve’s back before padding out of the room.

When he returns, it’s with water and the meds Steve always kept at the trailer, helping Steve swallow them down before tugging the curtain closed.

Steve sleeps for a short time, head throbbing dully when the painkillers blissfully kick in. He awakes feeling a little better, the migraine having been nipped in the bud before it could reach its peak.

He pads back down the hallway, rubbing at bleary eyes, heading towards the sound of soft laughter outside. The voices fall a little quieter when he steps sheepishly out the door, Eddie standing to guide him carefully to a chair.

“Sorry guys,” Steve croaks as he takes a seat.

Wayne waves his tongs in the air. “No problem, son. There’s plenty of food left over, you want somethin’? I can heat it back up for ya.”

Steve considers for a moment, judges the state of his still slightly-nauseous gut, and shakes his head. “Maybe in a little bit?” he settles on.

Robin’s sprawled out on the porch next to Max’s chair, and she smiles dopily at Steve.

“Dingus!” she slurs, and Steve shoots Eddie a side-eyed look. His boyfriend grins back at him.

Yeah, Robin’s a little drunk.

“Hey Robs,” Steve replies, giving her a tiny wave.

“Where’s your sunglasses?” Robin sits up, blinking slowly at him.

“Left them at home.”

She scuttles to her feet. “Borrow mine!” she announces, taking them off her head.

“Oh, that’s ok,” Steve says quickly, taking in the sight of the sunglasses now in her hand, the bold cherry-red heart-shaped frames surrounding large lenses. “You might need them.”

Robin scoffs. “Not as much as you. Take them.”

She holds them out, wiggling her hand at him.

“It’s fine, Robs.”

Robin slaps them into his hand firmly. “Take them.”

Steve swallows. Not one to argue with his tipsy and determined soulmate, Steve sighs and puts the sunglasses on.

Max erupts into laughter; even with her reduced eyesight she can’t miss the brightly-coloured accessory. Robin rounds on her, hissing something, but the seriousness is taken out of her words by the way she stumbles back to her seat again.

At least they were helping to reduce the light, Steve figures, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes slip shut again. The warmth on his shoulders was nice, the conversation starting back up around him but at a low level, everyone present keeping their voices down for his sake.

Eddie scooches closer to him. Steve cracks an eye open, glancing at him.

___

“Like what you see?” he murmurs.

Eddie cackles, leans in close, and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Always, Stevie.”

[the-kr8tor]

Bad Idea, Right?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: A visit from your ex makes you question the break up.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (she is mentioned wearing heels though), ex! Hobie, CW injury, TW blood, Hurt/comfort.

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Hobie Masterlist

Your ankle hurts like you've run a marathon. The new heels you've bought doesn't help one bit, you should've chosen a more comfortable pair if you only knew your date was about to ditch you in the middle of dinner. Now your wallet is lighter and you didn't even get a proper date in. You could've taken a taxi home but just thinking about the surge prices has you risking the dimly lit streets.

You sigh as you finally see your front door, hobbling to it, you unlock it quickly so you could change into your PJ's, watch that new episode and have your feet up with a hot compress right over your aching feet.

The smell of iron and the familiar leather smacks you right over your face. You haven't smelt that in months, turning the corner, you already know who's waiting for you. But you wouldn't have foreseen the state that he's in.

“Holy shit, Hobie!” You run to him, blisters be damned.

Kneeling next to him, you assess the damages like you always used to. He's currently sitting up, his back slouched. His face has seen better days but there's still that charm you've always loved behind his eyes. The suit looks worse, marred by bloodied slashes and tattered cloth.

“‘m okay,” he holds your elbow, the feeling so familiar it brings you back to five months ago, a time before you broke up, before *he broke it off, inevitably shattering your heart into tiny pieces.

“Just a scratch, love.” Hobie looks softly at you, his eye bruised and battered as he clutches at his bleeding side.

“You're bleeding all over my new couch.” Sure enough, your once white couch has specks of blood on it. “What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital in the state you're in!”

He heaves a shaky breath. “I didn't know where else to go.” Squeezing your elbow, his head hit the cushion in a quiet thump.

You hold his cheek gently. This is a bad idea, right? But you know if you don't treat him his wounds would fester, you know him enough to know that he really won't go to a hospital no matter how much you beg.

“Okay, okay, just–” you fight the tears in your eyes. There might not be a relationship between you two anymore but you can't bear seeing him in pain. “I'll get the kit.” Standing up, before you could rummage for the first aid, Hobie catches your hand in his. Thumb rubbing softly over your palm, you swear you felt electricity pass through you.

“Y/N, I–”

“I'll get the first aid.” You cut him off without looking at his face, if you did you might've collapsed to your knees in front of him, kissing him like you used to. Sliding your hands off him, you walk off without looking behind.

Going over to the piles and piles of boxes in the corner, you open one that's labeled ‘medical stuff’ immediately, your eyes zero in on the things you needed.

“You haven't unpacked?” Hobie croaks out, “it's been six months–”

“Five, just five actually.” Turning around, your arms are full of bandages, painkillers and antiseptic and anything else you might need, your tone is full of passive aggressiveness.

“Felt like six to me” he coughs out.

You walk briskly to him, you've got to get your priorities straight rather than biting back at him.

“Stop talking, you're making it worse.”

“My injuries or our relationship?”

You pause, kneeling down to set the materials on the floor as gentle as you can with your arms full. “Both, now shut it, Hobart.”

“‘m sorry”

“Hobie, please.” You look at him, your eyes glistening in the light. “Please just– let me work, okay?”

“Okay” he nods, observing you prepare the materials just like you always do it. But this time you're not completely calm and not making jokes to keep him smiling and awake. You're silent, fingers shaking while you sanitize your hands.

The sound of the clock in the living room becomes annoying as the silence goes on. Hobie's suit now lay discarded on the floor leaving him in only his boxers. He grimaces with every stitch you do in his abdomen. Your touch keeps him awake though, sending little sparks as you gently put the needle in his skin, your gloves bloodied, face fully concentrating, only showing emotion with a frown when he sucks his teeth in when the pain flares up again.

Hobie doesn't want you to hurry up though, because once you're done, he'd have to leave and he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to leave you again since he made the biggest mistake of his life five months ago because of a stupid argument. He admits it to himself every morning he wakes up without you beside him, your side of the bed cold, your things not where they usually are. He can't help but look beside him, wishing the space isn't empty anymore.

He was wrong and he wants you back. He'd be lying if said he was doing well these past five months, he'd be lying too if he said he wasn't thinking of you when he was being pummeled to the ground.

You hate seeing him like this, hell it was the main reason why the fateful fight happened. With a shuddered breath from Hobie, you look up at him to check, maybe you shouldn't have when he looks at you like the last five months didn't happen. Like the last three years together still continued on to this day.

“You look nice.” He flicks his eyes down to your new shoes. “Fancy. Did you go on a date?” He mentally readies himself for your reply.

“I did.” Thinking of getting him back, you could say ‘yeah, I did and it went so well! We're getting married tomorrow by the way!’ or ‘yeah and he's right outside right now waiting for me’ but you don't, you don't have the heart to hurt him with your words, even if he did do that to you.

“Didn't go well” you continue without looking at him, concentrating on closing his wound. “He left me during dinner.”

“That fuckin’ wanker.” He clicks his tongue, his words full of venom for the man. “You deserve better, love”

You look at him directly in the eyes. “Yeah I do.”

His face drops, anger dissipating. “Y/N–”

“What are you really doing here, Hobie? You have friends that could help you better than I could and you still went to me.” Your bottom lip wobbles but you bravely continue on. “You said it yourself, you don't want to do anything with me” your voice wavers.

“I didn't mean it.”

“Then why did you say it? I only told you to be more careful because I hate coming home to you beaten and bloody. I would never tell you to stop being spiderman, I know the city needs you more than I do, but my god, I needed you too.”

“‘m so fucking sorry.” He reaches out to hold your cheek but retracts it back apprehensively.

“I came home tired and angry and I let it all out on you.”

You want to hold him, you do but it's a bad idea, you're trying to move on, you're currently failing at it based on the number of dates you've rejected and all the boxes of things you haven't even tried to unpack because of that damned bit of hope. You'd do anything to see the dimples of his cheeks again. You know it's been hard being spiderman for him, juggling his personal life with being a vigilante; and you hate how you added in another problem for him, but you know the space was needed even though it wasn't wanted. One thing is for certain though, you still love him.

Closing his wound, you pack it in with bandages, the awkward silence is deafening. The package of medical tape crinkles as he watches you with a frown and broken heart.

“You called me selfish” you break the silence, your hands staying over his wound gently, the bandages acting as a wall between you and his skin.

“I did, ‘m sorry” he thinks twice before holding your hand over his bandages. His fingers intertwining with yours slowly.

Unsurprisingly, you let him. Your eyes flicking over to his shining one, his frown makes you crave his smile.

“But…” You continue with hitched breath, “you said you love me in the same breath.”

“I meant it, I still love you.” Hobie takes your hand, lifting it to kiss your knuckles. You feel his dry broken lips, you want to hurt the one who did this to him.

Coming closer to him, you lay your forehead atop his carefully so as to not exacerbate his injuries. “I still have no idea how you made that whole sentence hurtful but full of love.”

“I'm a lyrical genius, love” he chuckles lowly, raising up to chase your lips.

“Not much of a genius that day though.” You lean away but his hand on the back of your head prevents you from getting away. For the first time in months, you smile.

“I'm a blubbering idiot then.” Hobie slides his hand down to your shoulders, just holding you like it's supposed to be. He has every curve of you memorized, roaming his hand, kneading to ease your muscles.

“That you are, Hobie Brown, my lovable idiot.” You close the distance, kissing him like you've never kissed him before.

Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

[abiiors]

birthday surprise - matty x reader

part 2 of matty's birthday weekend a/n: this is scheduled. by the time this goes up, i will (hopefully🤞🏼) be on a beach somewhere, day drunk 😌 cw: vomit (because hungover), dramatic (because sad), once again vague descriptions of depression. some kissing and suggestive stuff. idiots friends to lovers wc: 3.1k

george’s massive hand rests on matty’s back while he retches into the toilet. 

his head pounds mercilessly, the sunlight streaming in through the window is barely helping and the soured wine churning in his stomach comes back up once again, leaving him gasping for air. a loud splash echoes in the bathroom and matty groans, gagging a bit more. 

george is a good friend. he lets matty lean on him and holds the glass of water so matty can slowly sip from it.

it barely works though. he feels like shit regardless, and none of it can be cured by water or food or painkillers. 

george helps him get back to bed once matty feels slightly better. the whole time neither of them say a word. matty doesn’t know how much of last night has been told to his friend—does he know the precise way in which matty fucked up? did he see matty in the act? overhear the conversation accidentally? 

george’s face looks completely blank. he does all the right things—sets a glass of water and a few painkillers next to matty, grabs him a bucket, draws the blackout curtains. he even offers to get breakfast.

“fry up from that small cafe down the street,” he says in a hushed voice. “come on, greasy food’s good for hangovers.”

matty mumbles something like a vague yes, if only so george would step out of the house for a bit. once he’s out, matty searches for his phone, wedged somewhere between the mattress and the headboard. the sudden brightness makes him wince but once he manages to open his eyes, he checks for messages and missed calls. 

apart from one missed call from george and one from jamie, there’s nothing. 

nothing from her. 

not one message. 

the last message he’s sent to her sits at read—it’s nothing special, just the address to the pub they were going to meet at. and then… yeah, matty remembers how well that went. 

he remembers the last look on her face before she stormed off. 

then it’s just a fog.

his throat feels clogged, his eyes sting but no tears come. matty just lays there, curled up like a pathetic worm, clutching his pillow until seconds or minutes or hours later george re-enters his room. 

“right, come on,” he flings the covers off matty, making him feel a sudden draft of cold air. “i’m not getting you breakfast in bed, mate. you’re hungover, not an invalid.”

“‘m not hungry,” matty mumbles. his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts—probably the vomiting—but it’s nothing in comparison to his head. a delayed realisation hits him that he never took the painkillers. 

george huffs. “don’t be a diva.” and if matty had any strength he would absolutely be offended by that. then again maybe george doesn’t know the full extent of last night. 

“seriously george—”

“matty. you’re going to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. we are going to eat and then we are going to talk about last night.”

well… there goes that. a stubborn side of him wants to be an absolute ass and dig his feet in. say all sorts of mean things to george just so he’d leave. but isn’t that what got him here in the first place? he really isn’t in the position to hurt more people in his life. 

like a small child matty drags his feet the entire way to the kitchen, turning his nose up at the food on the table. (even though it looks really good and his stomach does growl now that he can smell the food) george doesn’t egg him on any further. he just motions to the chair and slides a mug of coffee in front of him.

“you said what?” 

it’s the eerily calm edge to george’s voice that makes matty shrink in his seat. he does feel better with some food in his stomach, physically at least. but the way george stares at him—eyes cold, lips pressed in a thin line—makes him feel sick to his stomach all over again. 

“i said– i– i said it was the first of april, i told her it was a joke.” his voice is a pathetic whisper, words drowned by shame and guilt and self-hatred. matty wishes he could go back in time and undo it all. he won’t say any of it. 

he won’t even touch the wine in the first place. 

“right after you said i love you.”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

easy for george to say that. it’s not his love life blowing up in his face right now. matty stabs the tomato next to his half-eaten toast, watching it spill its guts onto the plate. red. just like last night. 

he remembers that part of it. 

“what happened after? how did i… get home?”

george goes a bit silent for a second, not meeting matty’s eyes which sets alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“do you really not remember?”

when matty shakes his head, george just sighs and then softly says her name. “she called charli, crying a lot and i figured something went down. i called you–don’t you remember that?” when matty’s blank face gives him the answer, george continues, “you sounded really awful like… you were gasping for breath. i could barely understand you. so i thought i’d pick you up and get you home. i’m glad i did.”

in all of this the only part matty focuses on is her. and that she called charli crying a lot. of course, he thanks george but it’s only half-hearted, distracted. he can’t get the image of it out of his mind—her sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to get a word out. it breaks his heart all over again. 

he did that. 

this is all his fault. 

“matty… you have to make it right.”

that’s the biggest problem of it all—he doesn’t know how. what is he supposed to do, call her up and say: hey, so you know how i drunkenly said i love after which i assumed you looked at me with disgust and then i said it was all a joke and you stormed off? well it was not a joke i am seriously in love with you and i don’t know what happens to our friendship after this. 

yeah. there’s no way to put it any better. 

so he just nods. at least, that way he doesn’t have to answer to george right now. he’s figure out a way to do it later, once he doesn’t feel like a raisin. he’ll figure out a proper plan, build up the courage to call her. 

for now matty can only swallow the rest of the now-lukewarm coffee and hope that he can just sleep the rest of the day off. 

for three days after that, his messages stay on delivered. 

it’s a harrowing process, to pick up his phone and dial her number only for it to go to voicemail after the second ring. almost like she’d stabbed her thumb on the glaring red reject button. 

all his messages went unanswered too. all the—

hey

can we talk please?

please!

i just want to say sorry 

just hear me out

—all of them ignored, like all his other efforts to reach her through her friends. 

day four charli shows up at his doorstep, face twisted in a scowl, eyes like embers ready to singe him if he stepped one toe out of line, mayhem in tow. 

the puppy is his last straw. the fact that she sent mayhem back with charli instead of dropping him off herself… matty doesn’t even want to think what that means for him. for them. 

he mumbles a quiet “thanks” to charli, afraid of speaking anything louder. 

“if it weren’t for george—” she starts and swallows, as if she’s literally swallowing her anger. “nevermind. forget about it.”

and then she leaves him standing at his doorstep like a loser, mayhem’s leash in hand. 

much later he realises that the collar is different now, it’s no longer the slightly frayed old brown collar from before. this one is new. 

this one is green. a green that matches her hair… 

the thought of it makes his throat clog up with tears once again. when had she even had the time to go buy him a new collar? one to match her hair so perfectly? was it before or after he fucked up? matty scratches mayhem behind his ears who lets out a soft little whine and nuzzles him in return. maybe the puppy is sad too, maybe mayhem prefers being with her instead of being with him. 

the next few days he spends like a pig in a pigsty, surrounded by his own filth of food cartons and cigarette butts and coke cans. he makes it a mission to call her once every day—all of them go unanswered anyway so what’s the point?

by the time the seventh of april rolls around, matty doesn’t even bother thinking about his birthday anymore—there’s no pointing in celebrating it, he’s not even in the mood right now. one failed celebration is enough.

his friends, of course, have a whole different plan in mind. 

jamie shows up at his house the evening of the seventh, not ready to take no for an answer. it’s just a small dinner, he says, only friends and family. (matty knows that’s not true, knows it’s going to be a whole surprise party) but every “no” is met with a gentle refusal to accept it and so ultimately, he gives in and dresses up in his cleanest, least sad shirt. the one that least screams “i took my first shower of the week today”. 

jamie, to his credit, tries engaging him in conversation. matty, to his credit, tries not to answer in one syllable words. it gets exhausting real quick though, so they end up spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

everything that happens after is a blur in his mind—the pub looks ordinary from the outside, inconspicuous. everyone yells “surprise!” much like he predicted. matty smiles, cheery and fake. someone hands him a drink, which he tries to refuse but the person is too far away to hear him over the music now. his stomach roils at the thought of being in another pub, in the middle of another birthday party. 

he just wants to go home and curl up onto his bed and never move again. 

except…

matty’s heart stops when he spots a green head. 

he blinks rapidly, about to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t hallucinate. maybe there are drugs in the air, maybe the (untouched) drink in his hands is actually spiked. 

but the green head moves and she steps away from behind george, a glass of some dark cocktail in her hands and her eyes trained on him. matty staggers to a stop, about to drop the glass in his hands. 

“hey…” her voice is hesitant, unsure when she first walks up to him. from behind her, george throws matty a look, his brow raised as if to say one chance, matty. better make it right.

of all the things that have happened today, this… this is the real surprise. 

matty stands there like an idiot, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, unable to come up with a simple “hi”.

“should we… uh, head outside?” it’s when she points vaguely behind her, to the smoking area, that he realises just how loud it is inside. the consistent beat of the song thumps through his chest, making him feel more anxious than ever. in a daze, he nods and then dutifully follows her outside. 

as soon as the door to the smoking area closes behind him, she whirls around, arms crossed in front of her chest, brows knit in an indecipherable expression. “talk.”

oh.

well, that’s what he had said to her hadn’t he? in all the text messages he had sent. that he just wants to talk. he just wants one chance. and now that the chance is here, his mouth's as dry as a desert. 

“i was… an idiot, no forget that, i was a real cunt to you. just like you said, i’m so sorry for the awful shit i said, i…” his words come out stilted and awkward. he has no idea where he’s going with this, he only knows he needs to earn her forgiveness somehow. 

even if he has to get on his knees. 

“i got drunk an–and cruel and said things i didn’t mean—”

“what things?”

“w-what?” 

“the things you didn’t mean,” she clears her throat, “what things were they? the part where you said i love you or–or the part where you said it was all a joke?”

matty’s insides feel like jelly all over again. it’s like he’s back where he was a week ago—just a boy, standing in front of the girl he loves, about to say the stupidest thing in the world. 

“well?”

“i didn’t mean it as a j–joke.” his voice comes out as a cowardly whisper, high pitched and barely audible. that’s no way to say the things he really wants to say! 

gathering all his courage, matty steps closer to her. to his utter surprise, she doesn’t step away. 

“it wasn’t a joke, what i said to you. i—” he chokes, nervously running a hand through his hair, wondering what the slight widening of her eyes means out of the million possibilities his brain’s already conjured up. 

“i know i was drunk and barely making sense but i meant it… i meant all of it.”

slowly, she uncrosses her arms, letting them dangle at her sides. the crease between her brows relaxes too. suddenly, it’a her taking a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe and she has to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes. the moonlight shines bright on her face, the glitter gleams on her eyelids, and for a moment matty is completely awestruck. 

how is he meant to find words when she leaves him so completely tongue-tied?

“and what’s ‘it’, huh?”

the faint ringing in his ears starts up all over again and music from inside the pub floats through the walls, mellowed and somehow peaceful. this is it, he thinks. he fucked it up once, he absolutely cannot do it again. 

“i meant i… i love you. not as a friend. i mean n-no, of course, i love you as a friend but i also meant it as something more. not that you have to reciprocate! i just–it’s just what i feel—”

the rest of his words die on his lips. get cut off by someone else’s lips more like it. her lips. against his. 

matty’s eyes resemble wide saucers until her arms wrap around him, fingers tangling into his hair. her nails brushing against his scalp is what makes his body relax and suddenly matty’s kissing her back. 

tenderly, he holds her cheek, tucking away stray hair behind her ear. his other hand rests on her waist, too hesitant to grip her tightly but too scared to just let go. as if once he lets go of her, she’ll float away, far away from him again, out of his reach. matty’s sure she can feel his heart hammering in his chest. he’s not super proud of it but the kiss makes him forget all about being embarrassed. 

the feel of her tongue lighting teasing his lips is all that matters. 

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, almost a… moan and pulls away abruptly, looking shy all of a sudden. 

matty touches his lips with trembling fingers. 

“was that too—”

“are you joking?!” if he though his voice was breathy before, it has nothing on what he sounds like now. the sound that comes out of him is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe and it’s making him feel dizzy. the good kind of dizzy. “so i fucked up, majorly, might i add! and i get rewarded with a kiss?!”

she giggles, all anger from before melting away right in front of his eyes. “it was more to shut you up honestly, you would have been here all night. rambling.”

for the first time in a week, matty can finally breathe, can finally feel the blood in his veins flow again. for the first time in a week, matty feels like a person again. “it wasn’t a reward. just because you’re pretty and a good kisser doesn’t mean i’ll forgive you so quickly.” 

matty grins, “you think i’m pretty?” and promptly gets punched in the arm.

it takes them a moment to stop giggling, but when they finally sober up, she turns serious again. “seriously though, matty, it hurt me a lot, what you did. i think… i think i can set it aside for tonight but i’m going to need some time to figure things out. 

matty nods. of course, he knows the impact his words must have had. shame and guilt blooms deep within him, strong and acrid. 

“don't forgive me yet, love. forgive me when i earn it. forgive me when you think i’m worthy of it.”

when she kisses him again, it’s deeper than the last time. her entire body is pressed against his, so warm and soft in arms, exactly like he’s imagined countless times before. he can’t stop himself—can’t stop him from finally holding onto her waist, hand sliding down to her ass. can’t stop himself from pushing her back till her back hits the wall and a soft gasp leaves her mouth. every nerve ending in his body is on hyperdrive. everywhere she touches, electricity zings through him. 

matty slides his tongue in her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and soothing the sting away with his tongue. every time he feels her shiver, matty presses further into her. he just wants more and more and more—more than he can do here and now on this balcony. 

all his friends are inside for fucks sake. 

“you can start now,” she teases, smiling roguishly against his mouth. “you’d look quite nice on your knees, i think.”

blood simmers under his skin, rushing south all at once and this time it’s matty who shivers, struggling to stand upright. 

“yeah? that what you want, sweetheart?”

“take me home, please,” she says. and matty agrees in a heartbeat. 

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