#or at least hurt/comfort

[disappearinginq]

First Sentences Game

Tagged by @dragonnan and @itsjustdg

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. Tagging 10 people up front: @buckky, @amandagaelic, @21forestglades, @altschmerzes, @vix-has-arrived,  @lovelucigoosey, @authorangelita, @djclawson, @cuppachar, anddd.....anyone else who writes and wants to play? 

So does this mean I do 20? Do I have 20? ::shrug:: Guess we’ll find out - and I’m not using the ones already published unless I run out of WIPs (which don’t have titles, just the idea that inspired them sooo...). 

1. 9-1-1 - mistaken for related prompt

“What’s it like working with your dad?” It wasn’t the first time someone made the mistake. It was admittedly an easy one to make - while they didn’t look exactly alike, there was enough overlap for people to make the assumption just based off similar features. Buck’s hair was a little darker, which Hen liked to tease the reason for was only the lack of gray hairs - most of which Buck gave Bobby himself. Their eyes were a little different, Buck with his electric blue that almost everyone noticed first, and Bobby’s a darker hazel. They were almost the same height, the same build, but mostly though, it was how they interacted. Buck hadn’t referred to Bobby as ‘Pops’ in awhile, especially not in public, but there was a familial ease which Buck would tease and Bobby would tolerate. Most people assumed the firehouse was like the military - the Captain was treated with absolute authority, and a chain of command followed. They naturally assumed that the youngest of the group wouldn’t be so familiar with their boss unless they were related. It was an easy mistake. It’d been made many times, though usually by someone in passing where either one of them could easily pretend like they hadn’t heard it, or smile and shrug it off with a simple head shake. But Career Day in front of a bunch of fourth graders was like sitting in front of a CIA interrogation.

2. 9-1-1 Buck and animals prompt

"Hey...Cap?" Buck asked hesitantly. "I have sort of a weird question. How do you convince a bird to leave the nest?" Bobby frowned, trying not to smile at the dead seriousness of Buck's face. "Well...when it's time to leave, the birds know." "Okay, but what if they don't leave?" Buck pressed. "Is there a way to convince them?" Bobby opened his mouth to reply before he paused, considering. "Are we talking metaphors, or actual birds?" "One hundred percent real birds." "Well....nature runs off instinct for the most part. If a baby bird isn't leaving the nest, there's usually a reason. Maybe it's not actually ready, or it's hurt, or..." "Okay, but what if it's not a baby bird? What if it's an adult?" "I...Buck, what exactly are you trying to figure out?" Buck held out his hands, which were cupped loosely together. "I found this bird, and it won't leave." He lifted his left hand, which was on top, and sitting cupped in Buck's palm was, sure enough, a brown and white bird. Too big to be a sparrow, and Bobby didn't know too many subspecies to guess any further than that, but it didn't fly away as soon as Buck's hand was lifted as Bobby expected. Instead, it looked quite pleased with itself sitting there and it didn't budge. "See?" Buck prompted, lifting the bird higher.

3. Outer Banks - continuation of Limits

“Mr. Maybank,” the ER nurse greeted them, flinging back the privacy curtain. “We meet again.” “Doc,” JJ acknowledged, offering a flippant two-finger salute. The man sighed, flipping through the paperwork from the folder on the foot of JJ’s exam bed. “This time with a police escort, I see.” He nodded towards Shoupe. “Is he under arrest, sheriff?” “He’s in our custody,” Shoupe deflected. The nurse muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘figures’ before looking at JJ. He let out a low whistle. “Damn, kid. What happened this time?”

4. Slow Horses

It’d been eight days. Eight days, and they hadn’t found him. Lamb could easily throw the blame on Cartwright. The man was always wandering off, pursuing his own leads and his own cases, as if he were an MI-5 team of one. His instincts were solid, and if that little shit Spider and Taverner hadn’t purposely torpedoed his training exercise to cover up their own cock-ups, he’d have his golden ticket and golden legacy still in place. Compared to Lamb’s normal throwaways, Cartwright was almost competent. Lamb never felt like he had to keep a tight leash on the young man because of all the Slow Horses, Cartwright was the only one there because of someone else’s mess. It made Lamb complacent. Lazy, he cursed to himself on the fifth day. Lazy, and fucking stupid. Because he allowed himself to forget that River’s ambition and talent were soundly outdone by his absolute shit fuck awful luck.

5. Haunting of Hill House - steven is haunted as fuck prompt

Steven always hated hospitals. True, he couldn’t think of anyone who actually enjoyed sitting in the hard plastic chairs of waiting rooms, listening to the repetitive pages over the announcing system, waiting for the doctors to come and deliver bad news.   He clenched the flimsy paper cup in his hands, debating if he needed a distraction badly enough to get another cup of tar-like coffee from the vending machine. Or maybe risk leaving the hospital for Dunkin Donuts. This was Massachusetts - there was a Dunkins at perfectly timed increments based on how long it took the average human being to drink a medium coffee. One was probably close enough to walk to, and guaranteed to be open. Luke liked the sweet ones - triple shot of coconut caramel macchiatto something-or-other with ungodly amounts of whipped cream. Luke mentioned once how terrible coffee was in rehab, thick and bitter that no amount of cream or sugar could fix. Probably the same as the hospital. Steven could rationalize leaving if he said it was for his brother.

6. So Help Me Todd - going into shock prompt

“But Mom, that’s not how it works, that makes it a misdemeanor not a felony,” Todd protested. “I know the law better than you, Todd, I think I would know -” “You know about upholding the law, not breaking it!” Allison tilted her wine glass towards her brother, eying the rest of the bottle. “He does have a point there. And that is his area of expertise.” “That’s irrelevant!” Margaret protested. “Don’t they say that lawyers make the best criminals?” Chuck pointed out. “Yes, thank you…” Margaret acknowledged, smiling before the implication sunk in. “I beg your pardon?” “Ha!” Todd cheered, holding his fist out to Chuck who didn’t reach across to bump it, but merely held it up just above the table before the doorbell rang. “You know what Chuck, we’ll get there. We just need to work on your enthusiasm, you got the spirit, you just need the attitude. We’ll work on it when I get back.”

7. So Help Me Todd (even though I technically might’ve pawned this off on @itsjustdg) It’s Not My Blood Prompt

“Oh my god, Mom! Are you okay? Are you - are you hurt, ohmygod, you are! Don’t move!” Todd pressed his hand down on the growing blood stain on his mother’s blazer, hard enough to make her yelp in surprise and pain, but he remembered lessons from Allison yelling at various movies and TV shows about ‘YOU PUT PRESSURE ON THE WOUND, WHAT IDIOT WROTE THIS?’ and he may not pay attention to a lot of things, but he does remember first aid, and the second part of it was calling for help. There was a crowd gathering around, multiple people with their phones but no one sounded like they were talking to 9-1-1. What was it Allison said? You had to tell people specifically to do things? “You!” he shouted at a woman who almost dropped her phone in surprise. “Call 9-1-1! Tell them we have a sixty year old woman, abdominal injury…tell them we’re in front of the Portland Courthouse and don’t hang up on them!” The woman turned paler than a ghost, and for a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him. Or pass out too. But then she seemed to gather her wits, and nodded once, before dialing on her phone. He only paid attention long enough to know she’d reached dispatch, before turning back to Margaret, who was still looking dazed. “You’re gonna be fine, Mom, don’t worry - help is on the way,” he reassured her, keeping both hands on her wound. His hands were shaking from shock, but he tried to keep his focus on her. “Ow…my head,” Margaret groaned, moving her arm to touch the back of it where it’d collided on the granite stairs when he knocked her to the ground. “Sorry about that,” he apologized quickly. “But you’re going to be fine. Okay? You’re going to be fine.” Margaret winced as she put one hand over his, and the other still behind her head. “Todd, I’m fine, it’s just a bump…” Todd tried not to laugh at that. It wasn’t funny. It would be horrifying if he suddenly giggled at his mom right now. “No, I think it’s a little more than a bump, Mom. Try not to move.” That made Margaret frown, and she shifted her hand, brushing against the sticky damp redness on her blouse,and then reaching up to his shirt and he could see the moment it registered just how bad this actually was, and he tried to soothe her before she could really panic. “Don’t worry - help is on the way, they already called.” “Todd…that’s not my blood.”

8. Yellowstone - season 3 fix it fic “You want a way out of this shit?” Jamie snapped. He pointed an accusing finger towards Beth. “Out of the fucking corner she backed us into?” Beth scoffed at that. “I can’t wait to hear this revolutionary plan.” “Gift it.” Beth almost choked on her drink, roughly inhaling whiskey half way up her nose. “If you think after the shit you’ve pulled, we’re going to gift -” Jamie shook his head. “No. Not to me. To him.” He pointed to Rainwater. “To the Broken Rock Confederation. It’s a fix for everything, but the only one here smart enough to know that - who actually has something worth losing if we don’t - is Kayce.” “You can’t possibly be-” “This is your doing, isn’t it, you sonofa-” John moved towards Rainwater, who didn’t flinch even as Jamie did, instead studying Jamie carefully, as if trying to guess where his loyalty truly lay, and what kind of scheme he had up his sleeve. Not that Jamie could blame him.

 9. Yellowstone fix it fic “Jamie didn’t turn on you,” Kayce pointed out from his chair. “You made him your enemy.” “All I ever did for that ungrateful sonofabitch was feed him, clothe him, put a roof over his head…taught him everything I know,” John snarled, swiping a hand across his chin. “I sent him to law school for chrissakes. And how does he repay me?” Kayce leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he let his father rant. Experience said interrupting him just made him angrier. Best to let him ‘buck it out’ before he said anything to the contrary. After several minutes of railing against Jamie, John stopped mid pace, turning to look Kayce in the eye. “You’re awfully quiet.” Kayce shrugged without saying anything, waiting to see if John was finished, or just pausing. “Well?” “Jamie didn’t turn on you. Out of everyone, Jamie is the only one who ever did everything you asked - including give up his dreams, more than once - and it’s like it made you madder. This is why you ain’t broke a reliable horse once in your life - you can’t teach a horse through fear, because one day, they’ll find something they’re more scared of than you. Teach a horse they can trust you, and they will walk through fire for you, even when every other instinct is telling them to run the other way.” “Your brother isn’t a horse.” “No, but I figured you might understand the concept better if it was something you cared about.”

10. Yellowstone Kayce &Jamie fix it

“Why?” Jamie demanded. “If he didn’t want me, if he knew he was never going to love me - why? He could’ve just left me in a foster home, he could’ve just left me alone, but he didn’t. Is…is this a punishment? Is it some fucking mind game he’s been playing my whole life?”

“Jamie you know that’s not true -”

“DO I?” Jamie shouted, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Do YOU? If he hated me so much, if he was afraid of what I might do, why wouldn’t he just let me finish the job with the rifle on the hill? Why not just let me end it? But no, no, he couldn’t fucking let me go. A-and then what? Put me in the fucking bunkhouse with the rest of the orphans? But I went - I went, and you know what, Kayse? That’s probably the happiest I have been in years. And he couldn’t even let that go - as soon as he needed me, he put me back in the district attorney’s office, the same goddamn office he purposely pushed me out of with the Rodeo Queen - and now he’s governor - for what? For what?”

Kayce couldn’t answer - his mind was still stuck on the words ‘finish the job with the rifle’. “Jamie…what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, what the fuck is he doing in an office he hates and doesn’t want, just so I can’t? I-is it power? He doesn’t want me to be higher up than him? What does he think I’m going to do? I’ve done everything he’s ever wanted me to, I made a fucking lynch mob go away when he was lying in a goddamn coma -”

“Fuck the job, Jamie - what did you mean about the rifle?”

11. Magnum PI

“You know,” Thomas said, casting his gaze upwards to the cloudless blue sky. “I lasted twelve years in the Navy, and I was jumped by pirates a whopping total of never.” He turned back to Higgins, not inches from his face. “But somehow, despite the odds, two for two with you. Next time you need a yacht moved, call someone else.”

“Shut up!” the man with a harpoon gun snarled, jabbing the pointed end of the spear gun at Magnum’s arm, drawing blood.

“You can’t honestly blame this on me.” Higgins bristled indignantly.

“Uh, yeah,” Thomas answered. “Yeah, I can. I was literally on a pirate hunting mission. In pirate infested waters. For more than six months. And not once were we boarded by pirates. Zero. Zilch. Never.”

12. Hudson & Rex aphasia prompt

“Okay, I need you to be patient with me, Charlie,” Dr. Gates said, smiling briefly. “I know these questions are gonna sound ridiculous, but humor me, yes?”

Charlie nodded, trying not to wince as the motion pulled on the stitches at the back of his head.

“Only nod or shake your head for the first few. Or, if that’s too much, thumbs up or thumbs down for yes and no. Yes?”

Grateful for the out, Charlie gave a quick thumbs up.

“Is your name Charlie Hudson?”

Thumbs up.

“Are you a police officer with SJPD?”

Thumbs up again.

“Are you at home right now?”

Charlie frowned at that, his opinion of the question plain as day across his face as he gave a thumbs down.

“I told you they were going to sound ridiculous,” Dr. Gates reminded. “Do you have a dog named Rex?”

13. Hudson & Rex Lab Rat prompt

It was Charlie, but somehow…not Charlie.

His hair was a little too long, but it didn’t cover the strangely circular burn on his temple, the angry red contrasting with his otherwise much too pale skin.Dark smudges under his eyes spoke of too little sleep, his normally bright blue eyes dulled and staring a thousand miles away. Instead of a suit and tie, his clothes looked rumpled and filthy, the sleeves on his shirt too short and his jeans long enough that the back ends were catching on his heels. The five o’clock shadow did little to hide the bruising along his jaw, a deep and painful muddied purple that was shaped uncomfortably like someone’s hand.

And that was to say nothing of the gun in his hand.

“Charlie?” Sarah repeated.

He said nothing, didn’t flinch or move the gun, his gaze still fixed and empty of recognition.

14. Hudson & Rex It’s Not My Blood prompt

The door flew open with a crash, kicked in with such force it broke one of the glass panes in the window and making everyone - including the other animals - jump.

Bailey may have screamed. Just a little one though. Like when her brother would lay in wait around a corner in a darkened hallway and jump out at her.

Linda dropped her water bottle with a crack on the tile, choking more than swearing as she spit what was in her mouth across the monitor.

“What the -” Linda swiped at her mouth, angrily turning towards the door, but stopped short.

“I need help!”

An older man - not like, old old, but older than Bailey and younger than Linda - stood in lobby, a large German Shepherd in his arms. The beautiful dog hung limply, and for a horrifying moment, Bailey was sure it was dead.

There was just…so much blood. In the dog’s fur, on the man’s hands, on his suit jacket and white shirt.

And then the dog whined, briefly trying to lift its head, but unable to rise higher than a few inches before dropping back down.

15. Hudson & Rex - caught in a snare prompt

Charlie laughed. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to Jesse. Or at least, what it was supposed to be, instead of the pained puff of air and the grimace it became. 

“You know, as much as this hurts - how stupid is it that I’m glad Rex missed it?”

Without really thinking, Jesse mused aloud. “He does have four feet instead of two - and he weighs about a hundred pounds less than you. It would be easier to carry him out.” 

The blood welled up between Jesse’s fingers even as he pressed down hard enough to make Charlie yelp, and Rex immediately pushed his head against Charlie’s, whining.

“Y-yeah,” Charlie admitted. “But animals don’t understand pain like that - there isn’t really an understanding of ‘it only hurts now, but we’re trying to help it feel better’. Rex is the best, b-but…” his teeth chattered for a second, and he looked almost apologetic. “That’s pushing it.”

“So…you promise not to bite me when I try and get this off, right?” Jesse asked, hoping he was actually distracting the older man. 

“No.”

16. Hudson & Rex fell down a well (ish) prompt

For the most part, Charlie could laugh at himself. It was hard to deny the accusation of being accident prone when normally simple things, like walking Rex home when his car was in the shop, turned into life-threatening-near-death experiences, like being buried alive. Or diving for a lost camera, something which he’d done a hundred times - the diving part, anyways - before, became an actual drowning incident after having his air cut fifty feet below the water’s surface.

It was easier to laugh at it then dwell on it. He took offense to the constant Lassie and Timmy references only on Rex’s behalf, because Rex’s heroics were real, thank you very much, but it was an amiable offense, rooted in good natured teasing. His usual response was “Excuse you? I have not fallen down a well. Timmy and I are not the same.”

He shivered, shifting in the almost knee deep mud at the bottom of hole he found himself in.

There goes that defense, he thought bitterly.

17. Hudson & Rex claustrophobia

It really shouldn’t have come as any surprise that Charlie developed claustrophobia, but somehow, it did.

Maybe because it started off slowly. Rationally, even - if an irrational fear could ever be considered rational.

After the freezer incident, he stopped crossing the threshold into Sarah’s lab until he ran his fingers across the sliding door, feeling it move beneath his fingers at the slightest touch from the sensor, proving that it wouldn’t lock behind him.

After the diving incident, he stopped closing the door to the bathroom all the way when he was in the shower, facing purposely away from the spray and towards the open door.

After the near-miss with the shipping container, he started avoiding parking in the garage, opting to walk from the further open lot, no matter the weather. He rationalized it was for Rex’s benefit. The shepherd liked the extra walk, especially since it allowed him to get extra snacks and pets from their favorite coffee and donut vendor.

After being buried alive, he stopped sleeping in the dark. Rex changed from sleeping on his bed on the floor to the bed with Charlie, so when Charlie bolted upright in the middle of the night, gasping at air he was sure wasn’t there a second ago, Rex could sidle closer, stretching out the length of the bed so that from toes to shoulder, Charlie could feel the warmth of his body, the softness of his fur, and the cold wet of his nose.

18. The Umbrella Academy - Diego asks Five to help out with a case where kids are going missing from a prestigious boarding school

“I’d rather lick battery acid,” Five growled.

Diego sighed, scratching at the raised scar tissue on the side of his head. “Trust me, Five, you’re not my idea of a good choice, either. You’re not my first choice. You’re not even my last choice. You’re literally the only choice.”

“Guess it’s not happening then, huh?” Five quipped with a smirk, blinking across the living room and back to the bar for his abandoned drink.

“Five,” Diego protested, “it’s not like it’d be the worst thing you’d ever done.” At Five’s raised eyebrow, Diego hastily added, “I mean, how could it possibly be worse than the Apocalypse? Or, you know, ninety nine percent of your life so far?”

19. Prodigal Son - totally forgot I had this

“No, JT, really, I want to know,” Malcolm snapped, holding his hand out – steadier than JT could remember ever seeing it – jabbing an accusatory finger at him. “What exactly was I supposed to do? Hmm? If you know, I’d love to hear it, because I haven’t got a fucking clue. I’m a bit of an outlier, you see – people aren’t good with things they can’t categorize. They want to stuff you in a box whether you fit or not, and I’m guessing as a black, male, combat veteran, there’s a couple boxes people like to tick off for you, right? Suicidal. PTSD. Temper problems. Into drugs and alcohol. Anyone ever tell you you’re a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off?” JT didn’t answer – it was rhetorical and both of them knew it. Veterans today had a rate of suicide comparable to WWII, and instead of trying to curb the trend by digging deeper to find out why, Washington just swept it under the rug – denied treatment, refused disability claims, shoved people out on the street like Monday morning garbage. The only time people cared enough to even Google the statistics were November 11th and the last Monday in May.

annnnnnnd 20. 9-1-1 Bobby calls Buck his kid outloud

“He’s my kid!”

The words were out of his mouth before Bobby could stop them, before he even registered what it was he was saying. The gunman sneered at the sentiment, unmoved by Bobby’s plea.

“Your kid, huh?” The man sniffed, ducking his head to swipe the back of his wrist across his nose without moving the gun from where he ground it against Buck’s temple. “Then he oughta be worth somethin’ to you.”

Bobby kept his hands up, placating, and trying not to let them shake.

This was too much like the explosion. Too much like the bomber.

Buck injured, close enough to see but too far to help, while Bobby had to talk a madman down from killing part of his family.

“He’s done nothing to you,” Bobby said. “Nothing to anyone.”

The man’s lip pulled back in a snarl, and gun dug further into Buck’s head. “Nobody’s without sin, Chief.” He gave Buck a swift jerk, making the kid cough again as his windpipe was slowly crushed in the man’s grip. “How ‘bout it, kid? If I go lookin’, what am I going to find?”

[thousandth-island]

not to sound cringe but give me some fic recs for sanitized Marina please i literally havent been able to find one on this topic and I’ve been craving angst

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tubbytarchia]

Missed drawing these two too

Bonuses

[2jihiir0]

circa 1986 at the Munson’s trailer 🚬

[timethehobo]

The constant fighting is taking its toll.

[lilshoots]

ta-dah

Your feedback was damn positive, so here is the translation:

So, this is an AU where Hashirama dies early due to Mokuton and Tobirama completely blames himself for not finding a cure (he will invent the cure over time, of course, driven by guilt). He then fully immerses himself in the ANBU project to distance from intrusive thoughts and isolates himself from people (but not from certain Uchihas and a bunch of kids), knowing that Konoha is in good hands with Madara as the Nidaime.

I just thought about the seals on the ANBU masks and here we are…

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade's Adhd and rejection sensitivity. Getting upset about inconveniences he can't control even when not mentally small, just becoming irationally overly upset over things that don't really affect much.

How he's been talking about a certain sandwitch all day long. Since noon, throughout the entire mission, and now he's yapping about it again on the 6 block walk to said sandwitch joint ran by a small immigrant family.

He keeps talking about how great it is. Logan didn't have this place in his timeline, so Wade is ampled excited to show him. Logan jokes with him how he sounds more excited to eat this sub then he is to suck dick.

Wade, with the most serious face, goes, "I can get dick anytime. They're only open 4 days a week and only from 1 to 5."

Logan notes this in the back of his mind for the future.

Just as they get there, Wade is telling Logan that they used to be open 10-5 but their daughter went to college, so now they are on their own. How these people have been so kind to him and told him that they started this shop for their daughter specifically. To give her a good life, they've been working hard to send her to college since day one.

As they roll up to the door, Wade's face drops. All of the glee and joy from his body evaporates and immediately he's just staring at the sign.

"Sorry, we're closed. Come back -" and then a small plastic clock that shown when they opened again tomorrow at 1 pm.

They're too late.

"Oh... well, that sucks." Logan mutters, hands in his pockets as he watches Wade look so utterly disappointed that even he begins to feel bad for him.

He puts a hand on his shoulder. "We can always come again tomorrow."

"B-but I...i wanted.." He starts to tear up, quickly moving to wipe his eyes, sniffling and shaking his head. "It's fine... okay.. tomarrow." He whispers, not only feeling pathetic for being so upset over a sandwitch store being closed, but now they had to walk all the way back home.

"...are you okay?"

"Yeah.. it's fine.." But it's clearly not fine. He fully understands that they were late, and thats why they were closed. He's not angry at them. He's not angry at logan either. Not even himself, really. He must have miscalculated the time. A pure mistake.

But on the way home, it's very obvious that this is a big deal. He's quiet. Staring at the ground as he walks, biting his nails, wiping a tear once inawhile.

It makes Logan frown, uncomfortable with the silence, knowing his mind was no where near silent at the moment. He knew it was turmoil in there, a loud and pouting mess.

"....do you want to get something else?"

"...no..." He whispers.

Logan observes his body language, watching how his eyes kept flickering and filling with a tear every now and again. How distant he becomes and almost... hugs himself... at one point. He knows that this is a much different response from when small him throws a tantrum or sulks. He looks as if he genuienly didn't want to be upset but just... is. As if he couldn't stop his overwhelming emotions from flooding his mind.

He takes his hand. "...is it because you wanted to show me?"

"No.. I mean.. kinda? But I just... I really wanted it."

"We can get it tomarrow?"

"I know. I can't... its hard to explain."

Logan gives his hand a squeeze, talking quietly.

"... is it a safe food?"

Wade nods, wiping another tear on his sleeve. It was one of the few things he could eat without puking. But that still wasn't why he was upset.

"Do you want me to make you a sub?"

He shakes his head. "It won't be the same."

"Im sure I can make it the sa-"

"No.. I mean... yes?? Im sorry, Peanut. It's... It's an experience thing.. I've had it in my head all day to go and get a sub from them. And now I can't check it off until tomorrow."

Oooh.. that makes sense. He had a checklist in his head. Something he needed to finish before he could go to bed. And now that this wasn't finished? He would have a hard time moving forward.

When they arrive home, Wade goes to hide in the corner of their bedroom, quiet and trying to think of something else he could do to distract his mean brain from yelling at him.

'What are you doing? You were supposed to go to the shop! Stop being lazy and just go! Come on! We've been waiting all day for this! ... Logan said he would eat a sub with us...But we were so good today...' They said.

"I know.." he muttered, putting on his headphones, hoping to drown them out.

It doesn't work. Now hes just laying in bed, rotting and staring at the ceiling while tears travel down the sides of his face. He's breathing a bit shakily.

'Why are we crying? Its just a sandwitch. It has nothing to do with the sandwich dipshit!! Are we bad..? Did we misbehave? Is that why Logan dosn't want to eat with us? Hey! Hello?? Were kind of starving here. Haven't even had anything today since breakfast. Im not hungry anymore. You're really pathetic you know that? Almost 50 years old crying over a fucking sandwitch.'

They were so loud that even with the volume up so high, he didn't hear Logan come in.

"Wade?" He waves a hand in front of him, watching as he jumps, looking up with such puffy red eyes.

"W-what?"

He puts down a plate. It's a sub.

Looking at it, he glances between him and the food multiple times, watching as Logan takes it, taking a bite and sitting next to him.

He doesn't say a word.

Now, Wade is crying for a different reason, his eyes softening as he smiles, gently leaning into him. "... Can I have a bite?"

"Of my dick or my sub?" He asks, glancing to him with a teasing look painted on his raised brow.

Wade giggles, nuzzling into his shoulder as he takes a big breath, sighing. Glancing at the door, he mutters. "Do you see this shit? And you all call me the nasty one."

Logan only smirks, a bit too proudly. "Says the guy who once-"

"Woah woah woah peanut! That's enough. This episode is rated pg. Sorry about that. God, such a potty mouth." He snickers, sitting up as Logan lets him take a bite from the end of the sub, Lady and the Tramp style.

[avocado62524]

[bliss-night]

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[butdaddyilovehimmm]

"Get the hell in here."

[musedeluce]

Protection Detail

Rafayel x Reader – (He didn’t actually hire you to protect him as a bodyguard, but you don’t know that, and of course you take your job seriously.)

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Slight Violence, Hospitalization, Blood and Injury.

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It was dusk, and the heady, but ultimately pleasant scent of different perfumes swirled through the air as people moved throughout the exhibit. Floral,citrus, earthy, fresh, there was such a variety of scents. Inhaling, you did your best to identify the specific notes. It was something you did for fun, and also to hone your senses, as keen senses could save your life, and others one day. An ornate chandelier twinkled, illuminating the grand exhibition hall. People dressed in beautiful, high quality clothes milled about, moving from painting to painting. From your vantage point on a balcony overlooking the exhibit, everything seemed to be going quite well. As Rafayel’s hired bodyguard, you were never that far from him, but you took care to be as unobtrusive as possible. Right now, you had just finished a security check and were on your way to relieve the security guard you had asked to watch him while you were gone, for 10 minutes at most.

“Thank you.” Taking your post, you make sure you can see Rafayel clearly and keep an eye on the environment around him. As if he knew you were looking at him, he turned his head, his vibrant, swirling indigo eyes meeting yours for a moment, as it to make sure you were still there, before he turned away to speak with a guest.

“No problem. Nothing really happened while you were gone. Mainly, Thomas has been introducing people to him to briefly talk and then whisking them away again while he stands there looking austere.” That’s so like him, you think, amused at him purposely being the minimum amount of sociable he could be. You were lucky in this regard, as you didn’t have to socialize with anyone at all. The security guard walked off and you remained, alert to any trouble. Slowly, Rafayel circled throughout the room with you following discreetly, and he would sometimes glance back at you before he moved. For a few hours, that’s how the exhibition continued. Everything was calm, people mingled, delicious food and drink was consumed, and honestly it was a great time.

While surveying the grand hall, something slightly out of place caught your eye. A lone figure stood gazing up that the pinnacle of the exhibit, close enough to touch the masterpiece painting.. too close. His posture was stiff, his back ramrod straight and his hands, his hand were clenched at his sides. You couldn’t here anything from where you were but the man seemed to be talking to himself, mouthing words, probably bitter, ugly words if his body language was any indication. It reminded you of someone you had met before. Abruptly, the man whipped around and stalked through the crowd...straight towards Rafayel. Naturally, you started moving towards Rafayel as well, maneuvering to intercept the man before he reached the artist.

Physically dealing with a person is always supposed to be the last resort, with de-escalation being the main goal of any bodyguard. The response should always be proportionate, and the goal should always be the protection of your mark. Security people do not exist to punch people out, they’re only supposed to do that if that’s the only option. Hence, why you positioned yourself in between the man and your employer, who also happened to be someone you considered dear.

“Why should he get all the attention? Just him? My work is just as good, but I’m paid dust!” His voice was tinged with a sickly green, the tone bitter and rotten. “All his work is boring and generic. Inspiring? Unique? Don’t make me laugh. “ His noxious laughter seemed to echo throughout the hall, the sour smell of alcohol on his breath shed more light on the situation.

“Sir, are you feeling alright?” You kept your voice neutral, changing your expression to one of concern despite your annoyance. It was a better approach to ask this question and questions like it instead of immediately asking them to leave, or what they were doing as that was much more confrontational. It had the added benefit of often confusing them, and actually making them consider their actions. Unfortunately, this time it failed.

“I’ll feel perfectly fine when you get out of my way.” The man tries to get all up in your face, but you remain unruffled.

“Sir. I can’t do that, but I might be able to help you in some other way. Do you want a glass of water?” He sneers, and spews spit in your direction as he snarls at you.

“Bitch, get the fuck out of my way. I don’t need a fucking glass of water.” He attempts to push you aside. Annoyed, but not surprised, you effortlessly grab him and flip him around, locking his arms behind his back and start to escort him in the direction of the exit. Hearing some soft footsteps approaching, you knew Rafayel had seen what was going on. Hopefully you could get him out before Rafayel made it to you.

“Okay, sir. I’m going to have to escort you out for getting physical.”

“How dare you put your hands on me!” The idiot was starting to make a scene, but it’s not like you cared. You were doing your job, and he was making himself look bad, a scene wouldn’t affect you. “Rafayel is the one who deserves to be humiliated! He’s got you all eating out of the palm of his hand because of some pathetic art that has no soul!” Other security guards approached, and you made the decision to hand him off to them so you could get back to Rafayel, and so that this person wasn’t with you when Rafayel got close, he was about 2/3rds of the way to you. After the initial outburst, people, seeing it was just someone being drunk and poorly behaved, returned to what they were doing as soon as they saw it was being handled.

“Escort him out, please. And call him a cab or something, he’s drunk, on both jealousy and alcohol.” You push him into the custody of the same man you had asked to watch Rafayel for a while. Turning on your heel, you stride in Rafayel’s direction and meet up with him quickly.

“What’s up?” He asks, tone casual and almost playful, but not quite.

“Just some drunk idiot.” You shrug, and fill Rafayel on what happened, leaving out the specific insults upon his art.

“HEY!” The sharp yell behind you was followed by the footsteps of someone directly sprinting towards Rafayel, and you. Instinctually, you whip around, pushing Rafayel behind you. Icy pain exploded through your head, which had snapped back with the impact of the man’s punch. Itaking the punch was something you knew you were capable of, and since he had now punched you, you could now take more actions. Also, there was no way in Hell you were gonna let some drunken, pathetic sod even touch Rafayel, let alone punch him. The sod in question could now also be booked for assault. All of these were reasons you took the punch, and also because the man had acted quite quickly, and you spent any extra time you had to react to him getting Rafayel out of the way, so you also took the punch because it was one of the only actions you could take at the time.

Unimpressed, you look back at the man, who was apparently sobering up as realization of what he had done dawned in his eyes. You punched him in the stomach as hard as you could, for the purposes of subduing him and possibly, a little bit, for your own satisfaction. Writhing on the ground, event security surrounded him and finally he was kicked out.

“What a mess.” Muttering to yourself, you turn to Rafayel, making sure he was alright. “My apologies, Boss.” You gently touch your nose, your hand coming away with crimson blood on the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t broken but that wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about, whenever you took a blow to the head it was always possible to get a concussion, and bleeding from your nose wasn’t a great sign, especially since you hadn’t actually been punched directly in the nose. “Are you okay?” You eye him, examining his body up and down. “You seem to be, but I’d like your verbal confirmation.” Rafayel grabs your bloodied hand, making a show of examining it, and your face, closely.

“Your devotion is astounding.” His tone is playful, teasing. “I should reward you with a trip to the hospital, the most magical location in the world.” Gasping, you play along, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips.

“The hospital? I’ve always wanted to go there, what a great reward!” The two of you make your way to one of the exits, walking side by side which is unusual as you were either in front of him or behind him depending on the situation. Everyone lets you go, even Thomas.

“Your chariot awaits.” Rafayel opens the passenger door for you, deciding that he would be the one to drive - quite honestly, a good thing because you felt a headache developing, and you couldn’t tell if it was a concussion headache, or just one from being punched.

“Your powers of perception are most impressive! What tipped you off about that pathetic knave?” Rafayel continued his teasing, which you were grateful for. It would serve a dual purpose of keeping you engaged, important if you had a concussion, and honestly just making you feel better.

“Alas, it’s nothing so impressive as you may think. The knave reminded me of someone creepy I had met before.”

“Oh?” Rafayel arches an eyebrow. “Do enlighten me, noble knight.”

“Hush.” You giggle, and then become more serious. “Remember how our second meeting was because I needed to investigate one of your paintings? The man tonight reminded me of Raymond, the collector who bought your painting. They both had the same...creepy and obsessive vibes. I honestly suspect that what happened to Raymond was orchestrated somehow, and that he brought it upon himself. This man today, also brought what happened upon himself.”

“Interesting!” Rafayel’s playful voice adapted a silken tone.”You don’t talk a lot about your other job! I feel left out, and this topic is much less boring than some jealous drunk. Who do you think orchestrated what happened to Raymond?”

“Well, the most likely suspect is you, as the artist. You have the most control over the painting itself.” Equally as playful as he was, you continue to speak. “But, who cares? I trust your judgment, given what I know of you, though I suspect I don’t know that much. I also trust my own judgment, and there was something seriously off about Raymond. Hence why when this guy reminded me of him, I was on alert.”

“How flattering! To think, the best hunter in Linkon trusts my judgment as much as their own.” A genuine, soft smile graces Rafayel’s pretty face. A minute later, you’re at Akso hospital, making your way to the emergency room. Luckily for you, it wasn’t very busy and the wait was short. Unluckily, you were admitted overnight for observation, because even though you seemed to be fine, they wanted to know for sure, and there was the extra factor of your protocore syndrome to consider.

“Honestly Rafayel, it’s okay if you leave.” He had been allowed to go with you once you told them you wanted to see him, so you could inform him of what was going on. “I’ve spent a lot of nights in this hospital alone. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was up.”

“What? And leave you alone after you so valiantly protected me? Not a chance.” Rafayel takes a seat on the hospital cot he had set up. “Besides, we apparently need to discuss your rather worrying tendency for self-sacrifice. I’m a bit mad, you know.”

“Mad? Why would you be mad when I was protecting you, a job you explicitly hired me to do?” He gasped in mock outrage.

“You only protected me because I pay you? In that case -” His tone softens. “If I stop paying you will you stop trying to protect me?”

���Rude! I didn’t just protect you because you pay me, I genuinely wanted to protect you. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially not if there’s anything I can do about it.” You were earnest, and frankly Rafayel was scared to hear it, but so impossibly happy. “So, I guess the answer to that question is no.” Your laugh was invigorating.

“Humans are all so selfish. Always acting how they want with no regard for anyone else.” The cot creaked as he leaned backwards, the fresh, energetic smell of his cologne wafting through the air, and his voice was quiet, enough so that you suspect he was talking to himself. You responded anyway.

“That’s not true. Humans are too varied to make blanket statements like that and “Humans are inherently evil and horrible.” Rafayel hums in response, studying you, the pause in the conversation growing heavy.

“I’ve decided. No protecting me if it hurts you.” He gets up off the cot, and spreads his arms, wordlessly asking for a hug. You open your arms in response, and he envelops you in a soft, strong and comfortable hug. “Your life is precious and important. I’d much rather experience life with you, not be a reason you got hurt.”

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A/N: He's my favorite!! I think a lot of people do not actually understand his character, and portray him as simple, immature, clingy, and whiny. He's playful and fun, yes but also quite patient and calculating, among other things. His character is quite complex and he's very, very smart. For instance, during the car ride he's trying to get more information, not just flirt with the MC. XD I have THOUGHTS

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or…Where Steve should have been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t think—“

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is what—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👕—————👕

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

Love and Deepspace Guys w/ a Traumatized S/O (Xavier and Zayne)

Sorry about no Rafayel. I still don't know him that well.

Summary: More specifically Zayne and Xavier helping you through panic caused by trauma

CW: mention of panic attacks, hurt/comfort

Xavier x gn!reader, Zayne x gn!reader

Requests are OPEN

Xavier

Soft, sweet Xavi.

His response is very soft, gently guiding your attention to him

He might use his evol to shift the lights to a color and brightness that is more comfortable or use it as a distraction

There's something about tiny fireworks in the palm of his hand that never ceases to catch your attention

When you're a little more in the moment, he asks if he can touch you and cuddle you

Xavi seems to be a very physically affectionate person. He finds it to be a good reminder of the here and now and he wants to give you the same feeling

When you finally start crying, he definately pulls you close and lets you cry yourself out

"I'm here. You're here. You're not alone."

Eventually the panic and tears subside and the two of you go nap for a while

Zayne

If Xavi takes an emotional, obviously compassionate approach, Zayne is very clinical in his approach his nickname in my phone his Doc Ice for a reason

This doesn't mean he doesn't care, but his primary concern is making sure you done pass out from a lack of oxygen

He counts you through deep breaths, making sure you're looking in his eyes while he tries to get you to mirror his breathing

When you start to calm, he works on bringing you into the moment. He wants you to focus on what you see and what you hear

Then he insists you hydrate. Drink water then wash your face for some reason water on the face is really grounding

Once you're fully present, he wants to talk. I know he doesn't seem like a huge talker, I mean he isn't, but he's not stupid enough to think that bottling it up does any good

Of course if you can't or don't want to talk he won't make you, but he wants to know what's in your head so he can help in anyway he can

100% insists on therapy

Like Xavi, however, he's not unwilling to give physical comfort if you need it. I don't think he's unaware that a good cuddle can make you feel safe and loved and reassured, especially if you're someone who feels like a panic attack/trauma in general is a burden (granted Zayne is always quick to dispel that notion)

Still, all of this is very cerebral. But that doesn't rub you the wrong way, because, well, this is Zayne we're talking about. No matter how much he feels--and his eyes show a great deal of emotion-- he will always approach things rationally

Of course, behind his very logical exterior, I see him as being fairly angry at whatever caused you so much pain. You're his person and he doesn't want you to hurt like this and he can't fix it. You can do surgery on a physical heart. He can try to fix the thing that beats in your chest. He can't fix the metaphorical heart and that frustrates him to no end

But that doesn't stop him from doing everything he can to be what you need. A shoulder to cry on? Check. A listening ear? Check. A calm, reasonable voice to counter the nasty one in his head? Check

[clownsuu]

Small detour of what I usually post, but I absolutely wish (other) clown the best of luck during these confusing and almost hopeless times- nobody knows how to deal with such amount of attention in such short amount of time- a blessing and a curse to behold