kywaslost

[kywaslost]

Hey, can I request a platonic dadzawa one-shot where one of his students is quiet and very obedient until one day he notices bruises and he asks them to stay after class and they start disobeying (aka, they try to leave when the class gets dismissed, won't come closer if he asks them to, and is obviously lying to him) and he realizes that they had been obeying out of fear before and they are scared to be alone with him due to having been abused by past teachers and parents?

No Such Thing As Safety - Aizawa Shouta

A/N: I don’t even know how long this has been sitting in my inbox. To Anon, who requested this, I am deeply sorry. But I guess, better late than never, right? I stopped writing for a very long time, but motivation has struck me during these late hours while I should be sleeping. If this turns out bad, please forgive me.

Warnings: mentions of abuse, bruises, minor injuries

Aizawa’s been teaching long enough to know that it’s the most silent obeying students with the worst hidden secrets. Or, more accurately, Aizawa would have remembered that much sooner if he hadn’t expelled almost every student he’s ever had. Working with this year’s class 1-A has taught him a lot, and has made him realize just how closely he needs to be paying attention to his students. They’re like his children, afterall.

It started off so subtle Aizawa didn’t even give it a second thought. There were light bruises scattered across your hands and arms, catching his attention briefly as you handed him a paper to turn in before scurrying off. He didn’t think to ask if you were ok, blaming the markings on the earlier hand-to-hand combat training you endured with your classmates. 

Then it was the long, deep, dark bruises covering your legs, noticeable when your P.E. uniform got burned from one of Bakugou’s attacks during class. They were dark enough to cause eraserhead worry, but you were so quick to stand up and run to the locker rooms that he couldn’t stop you. He also didn’t notice your absence the rest of the school day. 

It wasn’t until today he noticed how frequently you were battered and bruised. Sure, the hero course wasn’t a piece of cake, but none of the other students were as torn up as you commonly were. Today was the worst Aizawa could remember, though. You weren’t dressed like everyone else, dawned in your winter uniform despite the hot, miserable summer temperatures. Aizawa was smart enough to know something was wrong, but still couldn’t piece together why you could possibly be dressed covering as much skin as possible. His worry was enough to talk to you after class, simply wanting to check in to make sure you were alright.

“That will be a wrap on class today,” he said gruffly, shuffling papers on his podium and tucking them into a folder as he looked across the classroom. “Remember, there will be a physical assessment during tomorrow’s class as a midterm review. I expect all of you to be prepared, and have resulted better than at the beginning of the semester.” He sighed, then dismissed the class. As his students left, and you approached the front of the classroom to leave, Aizawa called out to you. “Y/N, please, a moment?” 

You stopped in your tracts, worried eyes gazing towards Mina who was waiting for you near the door.

“It’s ok, Y/N,” Mina smiled. “I’ll meet you at your locker, yeah?” 

“Um,” you said softly. “No, it’s ok. You can stay. I’m sure this won’t take long.”

Aizawa’s eyes furrowed, bouncing between you and Mina. “I would like to speak to you in private, Y/N. Mina, would you please step into the hall?”

Mina seemed worried, but obeyed her teacher, offering you a small smile before leaving. 

Worried as to why Aizawa could possibly want you to be alone with him after class, you took a few steps back to your desk at the back of the classroom. “It’s getting late,” you said quickly, avoid Mr. Aizawa’s eyes. “My parents will be worried if I don’t leave soon, sir. I’m sure you understand.” You tried to leave through the back door, but Aizawa’s voice stopped you.

“I assure you, this will not take long.” You sighed, breath shaky. “Would you please come here, Y/N?”

You shook your head, eyes cast to the floor. “No, sir. I really need to leave.”

“Y/N.” His voice was stern, scaring you. “Come here, please.”

Tears wheld in your eyes as you took one step closer to the front of the room.

Seeing as you wouldn’t come to him, Aizawa took it upon himself to get closer to you. As he got a few desks away, he saw the large angry bruise peaking out from beneath your turtleneck uniform. Reaching a hand towards you, you flinched away. 

“I really should be going,” you said quickly. “I’m not sure why you wanted me here, but Mina is waiting for me out in the hall. I’m sure she’s worried.”

“Why are you afraid, Y/N?” He could see it now, the way you had changed. You had always been so quiet and obedient, Aizawa never really gave you a second thought. He didn’t think he needed to be worried about you. But he could see it in your body language. Something was wrong. You wouldn’t be near him, the one man you should feel safest with. “Who hurt you?:

“No one.”

“What’s that mark on your neck?”

“A hickey.”

“Oh really? It looks like a bruise.”

“Ok, I got hurt during training.”

“We didn’t do combat training today, and that mark wasn’t there yesterday. Why are you so covered up?”

“I’m cold.”

“Stop lying to me.” Aizawa peered down at you. He was finally able to see you shaking to the point of almost dropping the books held in your arms. “Is it me you’re afraid of?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does.” Aizawa sat down on the desk closest to you, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned forward. “What have you seen, child?” You didn’t respond. “Y/N, if you do not tell me, I will have no choice but to get principal Nedzu and counselors involved.”

You took another two steps away from your teacher, barely meeting his eyes for the first time today. “I can’t tell you. You’ll do the same thing to me that they do.”

“Who, Y/N? Who’s doing what to you?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes and sniffed. “My old homeroom teacher from junior high. He, he always…” you couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. “And no one will believe me. You will leave marks, and I will tell my parents, and they will leave even more marks. They will never go away. No one will notice, or no one will do anything, and this will be yet another place I do not feel safe but am forced to return to every day.”

Your sudden confession shook Aizawa to the core. He didn’t expect such a heavy confession from you. He didn’t even know where to start unpacking, or how to comfort you. 

“So, the mark on your neck…”

“Mom.”

“My child,” his voice was as soft as possible. “I am a hero. It is my one job to ensure you are safe and comfortable. I am supposed to be someone you seek comfort from, not hide from in fear. I swear to you, the people who have hurt you before will pay. I will make sure of it myself.”

“I know deep down you won’t hurt me,” your voice was so broken. “You’ve always been so kind to me, but… I don’t know, I’m sorry. Mr. Aizawa.”

He wanted to hug you, to comfort you, but he knew his best decision would be to give you space, to let you feel safe by being away from him.

“I know you do not want to be alone with me,” he says as he takes a scrap piece of paper left on the desk he was on, using a pen tucked into his pocket to scribble on the paper. He slid it across the desk to you. “So I will let you go, but if anyone tries to hurt you tonight, I need you to call this number. It’s the emergency number for students in positions such as yours. It will notify teachers of your location and any danger you may tell us, and whoever is available will help you, understand?”

It wasn’t what Aizawa wanted to do to help you, but it was a start. Maybe one day, he’d be able to help you in a more comforting manner. Until then, he could only get that teacher fired, and your parents investigated.

[kywaslost]

Stop Scratching - Aizawa Shouta

A/N: I don’t know why I’m here, or why I’m writing again. I guess writing is the one thing I always return to when I need comfort. I know this one sucks, and it’s short, but it’s something. 

Summary: Aizawa’s daughter has eczema, and it’s flaring up again. He’s here to try and help you so it doesn’t get worse. 

“Y/N, stop that.” Your father’s stern voice caused your head to turn, your hand hovering over the red irritated skin you had been itching. “You’re going to make it worse.”

DIgging through the cabinet, Aizawa then sat next to you on the couch, bandages and hydrocortisone cream in hand. He took your arm into his warm hands, and gently took care of the eczema slowly spreading from the crease of your elbow up your arm. 

Once your arm was bandaged to keep you from scratching, irritating the skin further, your father looked over you.

“Where else?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have eczema anywhere else? I don’t want you scratching and making it worse.”

He was right, and you knew it. Scratching only made your skin even more sensitive, and even caused your skin to occasionally lose color wherever it spread. So, you let your father treat and wrap your wrists, knees, and place cream around the creases of your eyes.

“There you go,” giving you a pat on your knee, Aizawa finally stood to put the supplies away. “No more itching, it’s only going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you smiled softly. “Thank you, dad.”

It was a small gesture, keeping you from irritating your skin even further, but it meant a lot to you. In his own way, your pro-hero of a father was protecting you in ways that no other pro could. In ways no one else thought to help. Your skin crawled with the overwhelming sense of itch, but you were grateful for your father’s help. After all, he was only looking out for you. 

[kywaslost]

"stop scratching."

shoto hated that habit of yours, especially after you got your nails done. the nervous habit of scratching at your cheek caused him worry, knowing that there could be a chance you'd accidentally draw some blood. again.

"sorry..." you mumbled, feeling his hand gently take yours to stop the scratching.

you didn't mean to do it, you really didn't, but you couldn't help it.

shoto held your hand in his, gently running his fingers over your knuckles. it was a small routine he picked up to stop you from the scratching to distract your mind a few months ago, seeing you do the motion less and less.

you rested your head on his shoulder, pulling your knees up to your chest for comfort. "i'm sorry..."

"don't be sorry, love. you're okay, don't worry. i got you..."

[kywaslost]

thinking of blatantly possessive "best friend" (he wants them so bad) izuku x reader

like imagine y/n peacefully outside talking with their friends while waiting for izuku to get done with homework

starts raining

and momo says "oh no y/n do you need a jacket?? i can create one for you right now-"

but before the poor girl can even begin opening up her costume to create something

a jacket is already draped across y/n and arms wrapped around their waist (it's izuku)

and he's just staring momo down like "lmao no"

[kywaslost]

“where you going?” you turn to see bakugou leaning against the doorway of his dorm.

“just to the corner store,” you tell him. “I need a couple things.”

he raises an eyebrow at you, “It’s almost ten,”

“bakugou I’m gonna be super quick!”

he snaps. “the hell you will.”

“what?”

“I’m coming,” he steps out of his dorm and closes his door. “come on.”

you wanted to tell him the shop was right down the street, and that you would be safe, but it wouldn’t be any use. bakugou had been coming with you to run a lot of your errands anyway.

when you two get to the corner store, you begin browsing through the energy drinks.

you open the door and bakugou holds it open for you, allowing you to see everything fully.

“these things are shit for your body, you’ll die early if you keep this up you know,” his fingers tap against the glass of the door.

“I’m just getting one, and It’s not like I have these all the time!” your fingers graze all of the different flavors and brands.

“you need some damn sleep,” he noted. he continued to stand behind you and watch you pick something.

you shrugged at him, then reach for a watermelon flavored drink.

he scoffs. “you hate watermelon flavored things.”

you blink. “I do?”

“last time you tried watermelon candy you almost spit it out.” he says as if it’s common knowledge.

huh. you hadn’t even remembered that yourself.

he grabs a pink can and puts it in the basket he had been holding. “just get the strawberry idiot, It’s your favorite anyway.”

“how’d you know?” you look back at him.

he avoids eye contact, “I’m not blind.”

you hum in response, not thinking much of it. after having picked out your energy drink, you begin picking out some snacks to buy.

and bakugou is following you around the store, per usual, holding everything you pick up.

after a few minutes, when you go to the counter to pay, a little old lady begins to ring up everything you have.

when she sees bakugou, her eyes kind of light up like she recognizes him?

she smiles. “oh? is this the young lady you always buy things for?”

he scowls, “..yeah, so what?”

her smile grows as she turns to you, “you know he always comes here and tells me about you. good to finally meet you dear!”

you feel your face flush. what? he talks about you?

you can see bakugou’s posture shift, so you give a quick smile as bakuou gives her cash.

“have a good night you two,” she says in a sing-song voice.

when you and bakugou leave, you just have to ask. “what was all that about?”

he clicked his tongue. “dunno. probably schizophrenia.”

you laugh. “riiiiiight,”

.ᐟ

[kywaslost]

SAY STAY.

synopsis: you're hoping you can stay and sleep with katsuki tonight.

notes: unofficialbf!katsuki obvi! but i think it can be read as official bf too lol. mild angst but it's honestly not that deep im just dramatic. but this is an x reader fic so you have to be dramatic too, okay? also not proofread i cant be bothered gn

you and katsuki are having a chill movie night, though you're not watching the movie at all. you're on katsuki's bed, your head on his chest and your legs intertwined. your head feels heavy, eyes drooping and sleepy, heart warm and content.

you want to stay so bad.

and it's not just because you’re too lazy to go back to your own dorm or anything (though you'll admit that trudging back to your dorm right now sounds highly unappealing). it's about wanting him. you just want to curl as far as you can into his warmth and turn into a boneless puddle in his arms. feel him cradle you to his body like you're something precious. wake up in the morning with him all sleepy and affectionate, maybe get a few soft forehead kisses. you just like being near him in general. he makes you feel safe. warm. wanted, maybe, if you don’t think too hard about it.

and his bed is sooo cozy and warm. his room smells like him. and your heart’s been aching lately in that soft, slow, touch-starved way, like it’s asking, hoping for something gentle.

you start to close your eyes. you didn't ask if you could stay the night, but you just assume, infer, hope that his desire to be close to you is nearly half as strong as yours. so, you say nothing, and hope he lets you stay.

surely he's comfortable too. surely he's been secretly hoping you'd stay tonight the way you have. surely he'd also like to cuddle to sleep and wake up still entangled, hearts and bodies intertwined.

but then he says it.

“hey. it’s getting late. you should probably get to bed.”

he’s not even looking at you. he’s half scrolling through his phone and half watching the movie, his thumb still rubbing mindless circles on your back.

your chest pulls tight. something behind your eyes stings.

you nod, small. try to smile.

“yeah,” you say, standing slowly, peeling yourself off of him. “yeah, you’re right.”

you take off his hoodie carefully, try not to look disappointed when the sleeves fall from your hands. he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does and he’s pretending.

you want to say something.

you want to ask, “can i stay?”

you want to tell him, “i don’t want to go.”

you want to question, “do you want me to be here the way i want to be here?”

"do you want me the way i want you?"

but instead you just fold his hoodie and set it on the chair by the door. try not to crumple into yourself when he stays silent.

your face is molded into an undeniable look of sadness, heartbreak, and mild disappointment. you catch it in the dark reflection of his window and swallow it fast.

“goodnight,” you whisper.

he grunts.

you walk out.

the hallway feels colder than usual. you wrap your arms around yourself on the way back to your dorm. your chest is buzzing, like it doesn’t know whether it wants to cry or scream or curl up and sleep forever.

you tell yourself it’s fine.

you tell yourself it's really not that deep. you were overstaying anyway. you’re clingy. too affectionate. too soft.

of course he didn’t want you there.

you lie alone in bed, the warmth previously filling all of your senses absent. you feel cold and empty, struggling to drift off to sleep despite being on the verge of it just five minutes ago.

your mind is flooded with so many thoughts. you're unreasonably anxious. things deprecating like, "you're too clingy" and justifications like, "he probably just needed some space and alone time" fill your head.

but above all, one thought stands out as the most prevalent.

"why doesn't he want me the way i want him?"

-

extra:

katsuki stares at the empty space where you were sitting. the dip in his sheets. the way his hoodie still smells like you.

he meant to say, "stay."

he meant to ask, “you wanna crash here?”

he meant to tell you, “i sleep, hell, even breathe better when you're with me.”

but the words caught in his throat.

and now you’re gone.

masterlist likes, rbs, + comments appreciated!

[kywaslost]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[kywaslost]

Not Alone

(Eddie Munson/Reader Comfort One-Shot)

Summary: After a traumatic incident, you seek out the comfort of your crush best friend Eddie in the late evening.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a means to cope with my own recent traumatic experience involving my alcoholic father, so this is pretty self-indulgent comfort fic; however, I left the details pretty vague so hopefully it can relate to most others. Pretty much anyone with a shitty home life. Also, reader is referred to as a girl, but no pronouns are used for the reader and physical characteristics aren't mentioned. wc: ~2.8k tw: reader has an alcoholic father (implied), otherwise this a fluffy comfort one-shot.

Eddie’s dreamless sleep was interrupted by the sound of gentle rapping at the door. At first he thought he was hearing things, but when the sound repeated he rolled out of bed with a groan. He glances at the clock on his night stand that reads 12:23 am in bright red lights. Not bothering to put on a shirt, he rubbed the crust from his eyes as he stumbled towards the living room. Who the hell is knocking at this time of night? Peeking through the peep-hole, his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your hair was disheveled, like you had been running your hands through it, and the way you held your arms made you seem so small and fragile. Completely unlike yourself on any normal day.

The old screen door squeaks as he opens it, but underneath that sound, Eddie could hear you sniffling. Without the filter of the dirty glass covering the peep-hole, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy. The light from the porch lamp caught on the tear streaks running down your cheeks, making it look like gold. “Sorry, Eddie. I know you were probably sleeping, but-”

From the moment he spots you, it's clear to Eddie that you're in some kind of trouble. It puts him on edge, becoming hyper vigilant for your sake. He cuts you off as he ushers you inside with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about that, just get in here.” He's been around the block before, so he knows to make sure you aren't being followed by some lurking creep looking to prey on a vulnerable girl. He keeps an eye out as you enter, looking for any signs of immediate danger. From what he can tell, the rest of the trailer park is asleep. With no cars or people passing by, he follows you indoors, locking the deadbolt behind him. 

Inside, you stand in the entryway for a moment, unsure what to do with yourself now that you're here. After locking the door, Eddie sees you standing there frozen. With a faraway look in your glassy eyes, you looked like you were lost in thought. His gaze doesn't leave your sad face as he gently takes hold of your hand, swiping his calloused thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to bring you back to the present moment. When you finally look him in the eyes, he smiles in what he hopes is in a comforting way. It’s okay. You’re here now. I’m here for you. You manage a tight lip smile of your own, grateful you have such a good friend.

He jerks his head in the direction of the couch, and you accept with a nod. Eddie leaves for a moment to grab the roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. When he holds it out to you, he explains. “We don’t have any real tissues, so this is the best I can offer.” As you take it from him, he cringes with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Thank you.” Taking a few squares off the roll, you wipe your face and blow your nose. 

Eddie takes a seat beside you, looking worried. He runs his sweaty hands over his pant legs, feeling unsure of how he should help you. “So, uh… Do you want to talk about it, or is this more like a ‘no questions asked’ situation?”

There is a silent pause as you gather your thoughts, unsure yourself of what you want. You take a deep breath and release it slowly, refocusing yourself on the reason you decided to make an impromptu visit to your friend so late at night. “It’s my dad.” Eddie nods, aware that you have what some might call a ‘complicated relationship’ with your dad. Personally, he prefers to call it ‘your dad is an asshole, but you don’t have the means to move out of your parent’s place just yet, so you’re forced to just grin and bear it until you can.’ You fiddle with the crumpled toilet paper in your lap, frowning. “It got bad. He was yelling and screaming and breaking things.” The furrow of your brow made it seem like you were about to cry again. 

“You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to. I mean, look who you’re talking to. If there’s anyone who understands having a shitty dad, it’s me.” Eddie smirks as he confidently puts his hand on his chest. It’s enough to make you smile in appreciation of his understanding. “So what I’m hearing is you need to stay here for a few days?”

Eddie’s offer makes your heart skip and the moment it's out there, you're shaking your head. “Just for the night would be plenty. You don’t have to let me stay at all if you’re busy-” 

He shakes his head with a smile, amused by the thought of him being too busy for you. “Nah, it’s no trouble. You know I like having you around.” He winks playfully knowing it would make you laugh. And it does, albeit just barely. It’s really more a snuff of breath exhaled out of your nose, but Eddie will take what he can get. “Besides, makes Wayne happy seeing I have actual friends instead of, you know, buyers.” After you nod in understanding, he points towards the back where his bedroom is. “You can take my room, while I take the ol’ reliable here.” He pats the cushion he's sitting on with a lopsided smile.

Knowing you, Eddie is already expecting an argument about it's his bed, he should be the one to sleep on it, but he could never have that, especially with his uncle's midwestern ideals. Eddie knows Wayne would chew him out if he lets a guest sleep on the couch. When you stay at the Munson's, you sleep on the one and only bed in the house. That's how Wayne was raised, and what was consequently drilled into Eddie's skull when he moved in. While he prepared this rebuttal in his head, your protest never came. 

Eddie looks to see you biting your lip as you look at your feet. He watches you patiently as you work up the nerve to say what you want to say. “Would it be okay if we share the bed?” Eddie almost can't stop himself from grinning, but he manages to keep in his screaming thoughts at the prospect of sharing his bed with a pretty girl like you. On the outside, Eddie does his best to play it cool, but you must have seen his eyes go wide in excitement and took it the wrong way. Waving your hands dismissively, you do your best to remedy the awkward silence. “You don’t have to! I know it’s a weird request, it's just…” Your eyes dim again as you feel the embarrassment creep up your neck. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

Seeing you so emotionally beaten down and afraid makes Eddie feel a kind of sadness he hasn’t felt since he was a kid. Before he became more cynical and realized most people deserve what they have coming for them. But he knows you; your kindness and generosity. There’s a feeling of something heavy sitting in the pit of his stomach and Eddie knows for certain you don’t deserve to feel like this, no matter what the situation could possibly be. The sadness quickly evolves into rage when he remembers this is something your own father did. He may not know all the details, but he knows fathers aren't supposed to leave their children feeling like this. Like a burden. 

Seeing as being around an angry person is probably the last thing you need, Eddie pushes his feelings to the back of his mind for when he might need it. Like the next time he sees your dad’s car sitting in the liquor store parking lot, for example. A crudely spray-painted penis on that dirtbag’s car might be the thing to put a real smile on your face. Even the thought that Eddie would go to jail if he got caught wasn’t enough to deter him. If it’s in the name of giving you the justice you undoubtedly deserve, he’d do it. This town already sees him as a criminal, so it wouldn’t make a difference to him either way. Why not do something bad for someone so good?

He says your name softly to get you to look at him through tear-heavy lashes. Eddie’s unwavering intense gaze is enough to make your hair stand up on end and your throat tighten. He subconsciously tilts his head at the sight of your sad face. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Alright?” All you can manage is a nod in response, not trusting your own voice. You only hope he can feel your gratitude through it. “Welp,” he stands up from the couch pushing off of his knees. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You follow Eddie to his room where he begins to shake out the blanket he left resting haphazardly on his bed. He motions for you to lie down while he does so. Once you’ve settled on the side closest to the wall, the blanket flutters out one last time to lay mostly flat over you. Eddie quickly settles in bed next to you, doing his best to leave a respectable distance between you both. “Is this okay?” he asks once you’re both settled.

Clutching the blanket that smells overwhelmingly like Eddie, you bury yourself deeper into the pillow under your head. There is a small smile adorning your face as you get comfortable. “Yes. Thank you.” 

Eddie quickly sits up to turn off the lights and for a moment the warm glow from his bedside lamp casts a fitting halo around his mop of messy dark curls. There is a quiet ‘click’ as the room becomes dark and you can hear him shuffle back down under the covers. Eventually, he lets out one last sigh saying, “Sweet dreams,” before relaxing next to you.

His gentle breathing is not enough to get you to fall asleep. Hours after Eddie began his soft snoring, you're still running through the night's events. Where did you go wrong? What could you have done differently? What's wrong with you?

These questions circle through your head to the point you begin to feel a pressing headache at the front of your mind. It was like a brewing storm, with dark clouds and impending rain. No matter how you think of it, you still feel in the wrong somehow. It was something you did to set your dad off. You deserve to be screamed at. The tight prickly feeling creeps up your neck as you do your best to cry quietly. You don't want to wake Eddie up. He's already helped you so much, you don't want to bother him again. You face away from him, towards the wall, foolishly hoping that little distance would protect him from your breakdown.

Unfortunately, the need to breathe and a runny nose is a noisy combination. Eddie blinks once, twice, before realizing that it's you making that pitiful sound. It's a lot of sniffling and quiet whimpers. When he turns and sees you curled up into yourself with shaking breaths, he feels a little panicked. He sits up and places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing gentle circles there. “Hey, hey, hey,” he coos. “It's okay. You're gonna be okay.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, trying to calm you down, but as the words leave his mouth he can't help but frown at them. Telling someone that they are going to be fine later is not really going to help them now, but it's all Eddie has to offer. 

Voice too broken to respond, all you can do is shake your head. Being seen so vulnerable by the boy you like makes you all the more upset. A few stray tears is one thing, but being damn near hysterical with leaking snot is another. If you thought leaving his room would do any good, you might have tried to make a break for it. Instead, you shut your eyes tight, hoping he wouldn’t push you into talking about it, or worse, push you to look at him. 

Seeing as his words of encouragement are falling on ears too sad to believe him, Eddie feels useless. He hates seeing you like this. He wishes he could take it all away and bear it himself. With his last attempt to console you, Eddie steadies his mind in case of your impending rejection. 

The gentle hands on your sides make your breath catch in surprise. They pull you by the waist to rest a little closer before holding you in a loose hug. Is Eddie Munson cuddling you right now? His body heat radiates off of him in a comforting aura, soothing your tensed shoulders. The genuine surprise is enough to make you forget why you were crying, if only for a moment. The origin of his quiet voice makes you realize that pressure on your shoulder is where he is resting his head. He speaks into your shoulder blade, hiding his blushing face there. “I know I can’t make it better, but that’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

The sorrow in his voice is unmistakable, as if he was the one to make you cry. You feel a distant pang of guilt that Eddie feels the need to fix it for you. You don’t want him to worry about you, despite the little voice in your head telling you otherwise. You can’t deny that a part of you enjoys the way you feel loved when he shows his care for you, but you don’t want it at the expense of becoming a burden he feels obligated to bear. However, seeing as you can't form the words to tell him so, you're forced to let it go and just enjoy the feeling of Eddie enveloping you while you release the rest of your pent-up emotions.

Eddie is somewhat perplexed that you aren’t telling him off or pushing him away, but relishes the feeling of you in his arms nonetheless. He breathes in the scent of your laundry detergent, the one that he only associates with you. The little brushing of arms makes him realize how soft you are. It’s the kind of softness that reminds him of his childhood teddy bear. Something precious and sweet. 

He holds you for a while, being there for you as you cry. There are times he feels like he’s about to doze off, but Eddie wills himself to stay awake. Until he’s sure you’re alright, he can't sleep. When your shaking eventually lessens and your breathing has steadied to the same rhythm of his own, he feels you begin to shuffle in his arms. Eddie takes a small movement away, trying his best to give you your space back should you want it. You turn to face him, tears now dried, and stare into his glittering dark brown eyes. You aren’t sure what words you can say that will convey the gratitude you hold for him. The appreciation. The wholehearted love.

With how long you stare, Eddie struggles to read your expression, and can’t help but smile nervously. Is this the part where you tell him to never do that again? “You always make it better.” Your quiet voice is a little hoarse from your crying, but he manages to hear it anyway. It makes his face go warm with pride and his smile all the more genuine. Your eyes trail over Eddie as you do your best to commit the image to memory. As you appreciate every freckle and crease and dimple, your chest swells with adoration for the lovable boy before you. The feeling is all consuming and before you realize it, you lean into the little space separating you from him and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

When you pull away, you see the shock on Eddie's face. His eyes are wide, his lips parted in awe. The seconds feel like minutes when he doesn't make any kind of response. Blood rushes to your face from embarrassment. You must have overstepped his boundaries! What were you thinking?!  “Sorry. I shouldn't ha-” 

Eddie cuts you off with a kiss of his own, his lips pushing into yours with a touch more force. Heart hammering in your chest, your eyes slip closed as you kiss him back. When he feels you begin to move your lips against his, Eddie can't help but smile into it. His breath fans across your cupid's bow as he sighs in satisfaction. Arms reaching for each other beneath the blanket, your hands slide over his bare chest before settling on his shoulders. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other delicately cups your face. Mouths separating with a click, both of you panting, you wonder if Eddie can tell you're blushing as you stare. His grin is all teeth and dimples as he gazes back with adoration in his eyes. “Don't be. You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.”

[kywaslost]

thinkin about emotionally strong reader falling apart into bf’s arms… :,)

     He knows it’s bad when you can’t bring yourself to say anything: no witty remarks to play it off, no humble shrug to show that it didn’t phase you- not even a weak joke that you’d heard from passerby during the previous week. He would have known anyway but he knows how bad it is when you can’t hide the wobble in your chin when you meet him at the door and melt into his arms.

     The sound of your stifled cries weaken his heart because he just knows how long you’ve been trying to hold it all together. You don’t know that he sheds his own tears at your sorrow. You don’t know that he feels his own pained heart grow just a touch because you trust him enough to be able to comfort you- to run to him when there is something you really can’t make better.

     When you finally stop trying to smother out the sound of your cries, it breaks his own heart into pieces because your grief is his. He doesn’t know what to do in this pile on the floor- your arms wrapped tightly around him in fear of him leaving with one hand resting at the top of your head and the other one of his hands supporting your neck as you weep into his shoulder- so he just holds you.

     And later, when your cries turn hoarse and the tears run dry, you let him pull you to your feet. He carries you to the dark bedroom because he knows you get headaches after crying. When you still don’t say a word he goes to the kitchen and scavenges some Tylenol and a cup of water.

     He knows you don’t like to feel helpless- to feel like you need to rely on someone. But if he’s being honest, he likes being able to care for you. He likes how you curl up with your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him. He likes how you let him draw shapes on your back because you secretly love the physical touch. He likes how you let out soft sighs throughout the course of the movie because he knows you’re still awake.

     But most of all, he likes the intamacy of being the one you run to when it’s all too much because damn it all to hell if he made you feel like you weren’t free to be vulnerable with him.

[kywaslost]

Hiiii been reading your stuff for a little bit (which gagged loveee) and thought I'd try my hand at a lil request if that's alright?

So if you're feeling inspired, would you be down for a fic featuring Eddie or Steve, where the reader gets overstimulated by like a party or a concert and the next day has a hard crash, stuck in bed, exhausted, but they don't like care? Even though reader feels bad.

Something ish along those lines, but take your full creative freedom here! (Can you tell it's 1000% self indulgent as I lay in bed, perhaps experiencing said crash rn? Lmao)

Anyways, I hope you're having a lovely day.!! And thanks for at least reading the request, even if you don't decide to do it 😊

i hope i did this request justice!! i wasn’t too clear on if you wanted them not to care that you’re crashing as in ignoring or as in loving u anyway so i did a little of both! hope ur feelin a little better <3

Get My Mind Right

masterlist | send a fic/blurb request

best friend turned lover!eddie, he just wants to take good care of u!!!! Ft. best friend!steve <3 gnc reader, no physical description, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, overstimulation, mentions of depression and anxiety, a couple uses of y/n.

2k words

—

Steve’s house buzzes with the collective noise of strangers. Loud music thrums through the walls, making your ears ring. Everyone’s drunk, or high, or both. Except for you. The world feels far away, you’re tired, and you’re ready to leave despite the fact that you’ve only been here for two hours. 

“Hey. You okay?” Eddie waves a cautious hand in front of your blank stare, and the rings reflect the low lights, making you squint. 

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. Jus’ tired.”

“You need me to give you a ride?” You look up at him then, registering the worry in his voice. You shake your head, and can feel the headache already forming. “Nah, I can drive.” 

“Okay, if you’re sure. Will you call me when you’re home?”

You nod, giving him a meek smile before leaving the room. You find Steve and Robin playing flip cup out on the deck, and deliver the same goodbye. 

“Wait, hold on!” Steve calls, pausing his turn to approach you. “You able to get home?”

“Yeah. Promise, I only had one drink. Just don’t think I can hang tonight.” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with how fast it’s beating, and every voice sounding like silverware scraping across china plates. 

“Okay. Call me in the morning.” He wraps you in a bear hug, and you relish in the comfort before he lets you go, too soon. 

—

It’s a hard crash. You get home, ignoring your family as they greet you from the couch. 

“You’re home early!” Your mom calls. 

“Want some ice cream, kiddo?”

“Huh? No, just gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, sweetie. Love you!”

“You too.” It’s barely audible, but you don’t care enough to repeat yourself before climbing the stairs to your bedroom. Once alone, you let the tears fall. You hate when this happens, and lately it’s been far too frequent. You swear every time, you’ll be able to handle the crowds, the socializing, the noises. And every time, it’s a lie. You end up leaving every get together early, and all of your friends have stopped asking you to stay. 

You decide not to call Eddie. Instead, you strip yourself from your cutoffs and tank top and turn your shower faucet on. Even in the summer, you run the water scalding hot, willing the warmth to wrap around your brain like a neutralizing fog. You’re still crying by the time you’ve scrubbed yourself clean, unable to wash away the weight in your chest. 

You stare at your phone as you get into your pajamas, and crawl into bed without dialing. Even as you drift off to sleep, the phone doesn’t ring with a concerned friend on the other line. 

—

It’s noon when you finally wake up. There are no messages from Eddie, but Steve has left about one thousand since this morning. 

“Hey, Steve.” You greet him when he picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, you. You alright?”

“Yeah, just overslept. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“No, not at all! I’ll be over later with a movie, alright? We’ll just chill, no parties. Thanks for tryin’ last night, though. It was great to see you outside.”

“Yeah,” You sigh into the receiver, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you, Stevie.”

“I love you, too.” You feel the sob in the back of your throat, but swallow it down and dig through your bed for the TV remote, hanging up the phone.

“Honey?” Your mother’s soft voice floats through the door the moment you turn the television on. “You awake?”

You groan, throwing the blanket over your head. You're in no shape to socialize with her, but you don’t have the heart to tell her that either. 

“You have a visitor.” She coaxes, and it catches your attention. You peek out from under your comforter, and your mother meets your eyes and smiles. She opens your door further, revealing a disheveled and exhausted looking Eddie. 

“Christ,” He seemingly sighs in relief. “Thought you were dead in a ditch or something.”

“I’m making lunch soon. Try to come eat, both of you.” She even has the trust in Eddie to close the door all the way.

You hear her footsteps retreat, and turn to your friend. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He’s staring at you far too intensely, not letting you avoid returning eye contact. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m dandy.”

“C’mon. What’s goin’ on? You’ve been acting weird for like, weeks now. And you didn’t call. I’m worried about you.” 

You hadn’t realized just how badly you’d needed him to care about you. 

You shrug, defeated. “Just can’t enjoy parties like that. I know you guys like them a lot, but it’s never been my scene. It’s gotten to be way too much to deal with. Especially now that it’s grad season.” You’re tearing up again, and you huff in frustration. “I want to hang out with you guys.  It pains me every time I have to leave early. But no one really cares to check on me, either, and it always gets too unbearable before I can even vocalize it.” The words tumble out between your wracked sobs. “It’s panic attack after panic attack, and it’s destroying my fucking life.” You angrily wipe the tears from your cheeks and force yourself to look up at Eddie. 

You immediately regret that. The boy in front of you is far too soft looking to be the best friend you know. Usually, your relationship with him consists of playful banter, cheesy flirting, and raving about your favorite bands. It’s rare for you to be vulnerable, mostly because you wouldn’t be able to cope with scaring him away. 

His eyes are wide and laser focused on you, following every slight movement from the shift of your posture to the way you’re playing with your bracelet. 

“You know I’d hang out with you in complete silence if that’s what it took.” He says it plainly, vastly opposite of how you’re used to Eddie speaking; with vibrato and expression. 

You drop your eyes to your lap. “That’s no fun.”

“Please look at me.” He’s begging. You oblige. “I could give a fuck less about a goddamn high school party. I go because I know you’re there. I usually leave not ten minutes after you.”

“Why not leave with me then?” It’s not meant to be a difficult question, but Eddie averts his gaze to his hands.

He sighs, shaking his unruly hair around. “I don’t know. Because I’m a coward?”

It confuses you. “What is there to be scared of? You’re one of my closest friends, Ed. I don’t think leaving a party with me would mean what you’re implying.” The words sting, and you can’t figure out if it’s because you want it to imply something, or because you’re sure Eddie doesn’t. 

“Is it me?” The question falls out of your mouth before you think better of it. 

“What? Sweetheart, no. Well, yeah, actually.” You freeze. “But not in the way you must think. Oh god, y/n, you have no idea. It breaks my heart every time you tell me you’re leaving, ‘cause I know it means I won’t see you for the rest of the night. I figure, every time you say no to a ride it means you wanna be alone.”

That’s more than fair, you think. “I didn’t wanna put you out.”

“It’s never an inconvenience when it’s you.” You scoot closer to him, his body heat radiating, prompting you to discard your blanket from your shoulders. He continues, “I’m afraid of the things I’d say. Things I wouldn’t ever be able to take back. I stay sober enough at those parties just in case you might say yes to my offer. Usually I feel better when you call, let me know you’re alright. Figured this time it must be worse.”

“I’m sorry I worried you, Eds. I should’ve called. But it got you into my bed, so who’s to say this wasn’t my plan all along?” You mean it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but Eddie frowns, brow furrowed.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Like what?” Usually Eddie’s the one to dish out the flirty jokes, but you don’t see why you can’t.

“You don’t mean that.”

“And you do, every time you tell me I’m making you quote-unquote ‘harder than Ms. O’Donnell’s final exam.’?”

“Yes.” There is no hint of him joking, his mouth a straight line, unflinching as he looks at you. “What, you think I’m kidding?”

You don’t actually know what you’d been thinking. Maybe that’s how he talks to all his friends? Maybe he was trying to boost your confidence? “I don’t know, maybe?”

“Huh. Well, say for argument's sake that I’d been dead serious the whole time. Hypothetically, how would you respond to that?” He looks at you with wide, scared eyes, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Hypothetically?” He nods. “I’d probably tell you I’ve been waiting to hear that for as long as I can remember.”

“What the fuck.” It’s more of a statement than a question. “You’re being serious, right? This isn’t some elaborate, cruel prank on me?”

“No, I thought we established that.”

“Sorry, just need to make double sure. Could you pinch me? Still not completely convinced.”

You don’t pinch him, instead flicking your eyes quickly to his lips and back. At first, you don’t think he gets the hint, but when you’re about to play it off, he moves.

Eddie slides his arm around your waist, making quick work of dragging you closer to him, and before you can catch your breath his lips are on yours. They’re soft, and he tastes faintly of cigarettes, and it overwhelms your senses. He sucks your bottom lip between your teeth, a harmless experiment that causes you to part your lips for him to deepen the kiss. He takes the hint, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You tangle your own with it, relishing in the smallest whimper that leaves Eddie’s throat when you do. You gain confidence, sliding your hands around his neck and into his hair, twisting your fingers into the curls at the root, pulling him impossibly closer to you. It’s then that he stops, letting you up for air as he pants underneath you.

“Christ.” He huffs, his face pink and bangs disheveled. “Gonna have to gimme a sec.”

“Yeah, ‘course. Sorry.” You’re out of breath, too, and can only imagine how you must look. 

“You tellin’ me I could’ve done that months ago?”

You can’t help smiling at him. “Try years.”

“Shit. I’m a moron.”

“But you’re my moron.” He beams when you say it. “No more parties for awhile, though.”

“I can live with that if it means I get to kiss you again.”

“You can do way more than just kiss me, Munson.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Y/n! Eddie! I made lunch!” Your mother calls from downstairs, snapping you out of the quiet bubble you’ve created with Eddie.

“Be right there!” You look back to him. “Care to pick this up later?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

–

Steve is in your kitchen with a copy of your favorite movie and a bag of microwave popcorn. “Oh, shit. Hey, Ed. Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“To tell you the truth, Harrington, me either.” He snickers, and you blush at the implications.

“Did I miss something?” Steve looks from you to Eddie.

You’re giggling now, too. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

Eddie slings his arm around you, deepening the confusion on Steve’s pretty face. “Okay…”

[kywaslost]

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ bestfriend!eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

eddie helps you when your depression gets bad

1k words

cw: depression, mentions of poor eating habits

You aren’t asleep, necessarily; more so in between dozing and passing out. Your eyes are closed, not wanting to see the sunlight peeking around your blinds, but also too exhausted to keep them open. Tugging the comforter higher up, so it reaches your chin, you let out a deep sigh. 

There are noises happening around you; occasional car horns, voices from the street drift in through your closed windows, and another one that you can’t quite make out. It isn’t constant, more like a heartbeat that beats a couple times, pauses, and then resumes. You figure it’s nothing important, not that anything could get you out of bed right now. Not work, not food, not family.

It isn’t until you hear a sound closer to you when you feel panic. It’s dull and dampened, unlike the real panic you feel when you aren’t having this kind of episode. It’s a door opening, a heavy booted man stepping through it. You blink through blurry lashes, mascara stiff and smudged. Eddie’s silhouette stands in the doorway. 

He says your name softly, coming to your bedside to kneel in front of you. “I was knocking, didn’t you hear me?” he says, his voice not unkind nor impatient. You don’t even think Eddie being short with you is possible. 

You shake your head into your pillow, struggling to keep your eyes open and focused. Your movements disturb your unwashed, ignored hair, strands of it falling in front of your eyes. Without thinking, Eddie gathers them in his palm, pushing them back behind your ear. 

His hand trails down the back of your neck to your shoulder, rubbing his hand over your comforter. “What can I get you? I brought you some food.”

You try to talk but your throat is thick and dry. Clearing your throat, you say, “I’m fine, Eddie.”

He glances around your room and you know what he sees. Dirty clothes everywhere, garbage and food wrappers covering your desk, tissues all over the other side of the bed. You think your cheeks flush, but you’re not completely sure. 

His eyes are back on you, round and pleading. “Please, babe. Let me help.” When you don’t protest, he adds, “How about we sit up and go eat in the kitchen?” 

You frown before you can stop it, but let him sit you up. Keeping your eyes downturned, not wanting to catch your reflection in the mirror, Eddie guides you out of your room and to the kitchen. Your apartment is small, but it can be super cozy when you want it to be, with its wide windows and rugs strewn about. Your eyes water from the sudden brightness, so used to the darkness of your room. 

His hand on your back, he urges you to one of the stools at your kitchen counter. There's two plastic bags sitting there, the strong waft of warm food coming from them. Your stomach grumbles. 

He starts to pull out containers, all containing your favorites, along with easy, pre-made meals. 

“I got some stuff for later too,” he says, a small, hesitant smile on his face as he sets one in front you. 

Your first bite makes your food taste like lead, sticking to your teeth and throat when you swallow. You guzzle down water from a glass Eddie got you after each bite, afraid you might choke. He talks as you eat, leaning forward against the counter opposite you, about nothing in particular; the weather, something funny Dustin had told him the other day, a new band that he discovered. It helps, his honeyed voice easing every knot in your back with each word, every you don’t deserve this leaving your mind.

You push the container away, half-eaten, but Eddie smiles at you like you’ve eaten it all and asked for seconds. He takes it from you, throwing it out and beginning to put the others into your fridge. When he turns back to you, though, you’ve curled in on yourself with tears in your eyes. 

“Hey, what's with the tears, gorgeous?” He rushes over to you, hair flowing behind his back. His hand lands on the side of your neck, thumbing along your jawline.

You sniffle, wiping at your cheek. “I’m sorry that I’m so gross. That you have to take care of me all the time.”

Eddie crouches in front of you again, gently tugging your hands away from your face and enclosing them in his warm ones. He kisses your knuckles like it’s his job. 

“You’re not gross,” he says firmly. “And I’m here because I care and worry about you. I want to take care of you.”

Your face twists, shaking your head, but you don’t pull your hands away. His skin is warm but calloused against the backs of your hands. 

He sighs softly, barely audible to your ears. You wonder if he ever gets tired of this, of trying over and over to convince you that this is what you deserve. That he needs you to be okay. “I love you, okay?” he adds when you don’t respond. “I don’t mind doing these things for you because I want you to be okay. I need you to be okay.”

Your tears come harder now, your eyes shut as you try again to curl up into yourself. Instead, you feel him rise and wrap his arms around your shoulders. Your face presses into his shirt, hands grasping fists of the fabric. You don’t know how long you sit there; could’ve been minutes or hours. You just know that Eddie didn’t move away, didn’t complain about the tears and snot you were definitely getting all over him. His hand stayed constant against your back, rubbing slow circles over your shirt like he’s searching for more things that he can help fix. 

Eventually you quiet down as he kisses your hairline, murmuring something encouraging against it. He starts to peel away from you, just enough to look down at you. His back must hurt from his position, half squatting with his chin against his chest. He doesn’t complain.

“How about you take a warm shower? You’ll feel better, promise.” His breath tickles the side of your face, disturbing the baby hairs there. 

You hesitate; just the idea of standing, moving, undressing, and cleaning is overwhelming for you. Eddie’s gaze on you is hopeful, but quiet. He doesn’t push. 

“Will you stay?” you whisper, your voice thick.

His smile is soft, the ends of his hair tickling your forehead as he leans down to kiss your brow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, just slightly, and that's enough.

He squeezes you gently. “That’s my girl.”

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆˙

[kywaslost]

Warnings: Insomnia, Cursing, Brief Reference to Stomach/Period Cramps

@1andonlygracie Sorry this took so long!! <3

**********************************************

You'd tried so hard not to wake him with  your incessant tossing and turning. Nonetheless, you felt him stir ever so slightly beside you as the glowing numbers on the night stand clock reached 3:00 am. Angry tears welled in your tired eyes. You were so fucking exhausted. Why couldn't you just sleep? You just wanted some goddamn sleep.

You scrubbed your tears angrily from your cheeks, squirming a bit in his arms to flip your pillow over onto its cool side again. He shifted a little, his muscles naturally re-melting around each contour of your body's newest position with ease. You wouldn't have known he was awake if not for the lazy movements of his guitar-callused index finger tracing tiny pictures against the back of your hand.  

His nose buried against the back of your shoulder as he held you, his lips grazing cross the bare skin there as he mumbled drowsily. "What hurts, baby?"

His voice was barely audible over the drumming of rain against the roof of the trailer. His free hand trailed over your hip and beneath the hem of your tank top, his palm finding purchase against your lower belly where you'd often cramp.

"Nothing hurts." You sniffled, though you admittedly welcomed the heat of his gentle touches against your tummy. "Just..."

"Jus' can't sleep?" His voice was deep and groggy. Just hearing him speak was enough to soothe the upset that had knotted up in your chest.

You nodded, giving a pitiful hum in response, " 'm sorry I'm keeping you awake."

"No... No, pretty. You're not..." His words slurred slightly as he pressed lazy kisses against the back of your neck. "Well, maybe you are a little, but I don't mind it."

You'd groaned, pulling a sleepy chuckle from Eddie. You could feel his breath against your shoulder as he pulled you closer, yawning. He snaked his hand up between your bodies to scratch gently at your scalp. "What'cha got goin' on up there, huh? What's keeping you awake?"

You only hummed in response, so miserably tired that even carrying on conversation felt laborious.

"I bet..." Eddie's lips trailed from the back of your neck to the shell of your ear. "You've got a brain eating fungus. You want me to look?"

You nodded, staring up at him with bleary eyes.

Eddie mimed opening the top of your head like a lid, making his own sound effects to mimic the squeak of the hinge. "Yep. Just as I suspected. We're going to have to take the whole thing out."

"My whole brain?" You mumbled. Eddie could tell you were getting sleepier and sleepier. You rubbed your eyes, lashes batting.

"Yup. And it won't hurt a bit." Eddie placed his palm flat on the top of your head. "This is the brain sucker. Ready?" You nodded, eyes fluttering shut.

Eddie squeezed the top of your head lightly, making a sound effect that you could only assume belonged to the brain sucking machine. You smiled softly as he politely mimed closing your head again, pressing a kiss to its center.

He must be been right, because not ten minutes later, you were asleep.

****************************

[kywaslost]

hi! I wondered if you could do a steddie x fem!reader comfort fic?? it could be anything like r has period cramps, a migraine or maybe she has a nightmare? thank you so much!!!

Hi my love, thank you for requesting!

poly!steddie x fem!reader ♡ 608 words

If Eddie wanted to wake up to an empty bed, he would be single. 

It’s the cold that gets his attention. When Eddie stretches out a leg, seeking either you or Steve to latch onto, his foot only goes sliding across the sheets to dangle off the other end of the bed. He sits up. 

The fuck?

He stumbles out of Steve’s bedroom feeling like he’s in the intro scene of a horror movie, all cold and disoriented and in his boxers, but the blue light of the TV leads him to the living room. There, he finds you and Steve all curled up and cozy, relishing in your shared body heat without him. 

“Hey, I’m pretty—” 

Steve shushes him harshly, clamping a protective hand over your head on his chest and looking up like Eddie’s mere presence is a scandal. (Which, to some, sure, but not usually to his boyfriend.) 

“She just fell asleep,” Steve whispers. “If you wake her up, I will kill you.” 

Eddie blinks. “Okay,” he says, quieter now. “I didn’t realize things were so dire, considering she was sleeping the last time I saw her. I was going to say that I’m pretty sure if my snoring wakes you guys up, I’m the one who’s supposed to go to the couch.” 

Steve breathes out. He reaches for Eddie’s hand, kissing his knuckles while petting the top of your head softly. 

“Sorry. Sorry, it’s just, I’ve been trying to get her to go back to sleep since, like, two.” Eddie glances at the clock below the TV. It’s nearly five. When his gaze returns to Steve, the other boy smiles sadly. “She had a bad dream.” 

The sound that leaves Eddie is soft and entirely involuntary, his knees bending so he can crouch in front of you both. “A real bad one, huh?” 

You’ve been having a lot of stress dreams lately, but none gnarly enough to keep you up for hours like this. He feels bad that he wasn’t there to comfort you. 

Steve nods, pretty mouth twisting ruefully. “Yeah, she was pretty upset. Crying and all that.” 

Eddie’s heart heavies. He has the urge to reach up and touch your leg, but he thinks Steve might tackle him. 

“She thought she might need a distraction before she could get back to sleep,” he goes on, “so we came to see what was on TV.”

Eddie looks at the two of you. You, breathing deep and even on Steve’s chest, and Steve, one arm curled around you with the other undoubtedly asleep and with nowhere to rest his head. 

“And you got yourself trapped,” Eddie deduces. 

Steve sighs. “Yep.” 

“Okay.” He worms a hand underneath your curled legs. “I don’t think she’ll have problems sleeping anymore.” He starts to lift you, ignoring the flurry of hushed protests from his boyfriend. 

“Fuck—don’t—wait—” 

You make a low, throaty sound, and Steve glowers. 

“Hey, baby,” Eddie grunts, hoisting you up to his chest (gently, he swears). “Ready to go back to bed?” 

“Oh.” It comes out of you in an exhale, and feels like a hand squeezed around his heart. You let your cheek go soft against his shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry to leave you by yourself.” 

Eddie smiles. You know him so well. “I’ll give you a pass this once,” he says, glancing back at Steve. The other boy is standing like he’s forgotten how to work his legs, rubbing around his eyes and beginning the trudge to the bedroom. “You could’ve woken me, you know.” 

“You were snoring,” you hum. “You wouldn’t’ve heard us.” 

Steve huffs a laugh, and Eddie’s smile goes guilty. “Fair enough.”

[kywaslost]

how i think bestfriend!eddie would take care of you when you're feeling depressed. (comfort/fluff)

i've been feeling down lately, and the thought of just being in eddie's company while he does his own thing, sounds so comforting. he understands where you are- he’s been there, and his presence is like a soothing balm made only for you.

like i'd imagine him coming to pick you up- knowing how you're feeling, & bring you over to his place so he could 'just chill with his best friend!' -AKA watch over you, make sure you were okay.

you'd end up lying in his bed- snuggled up and tucked in, his soft sheets & heavy blankets keeping you safe, while your head rests on a fluffed up pillow that smells like him. you press your cheek into it further.

you don't feel like thinking or doing anything at the moment, and you're thankful eddie is more than okay with that. he encourages you to get some rest, particularly from your own brain.

he moseys in and out of his room for a bit, letting you decompress best you can- there if you need him, in another room if you prefer some space.

you listen to the fan humming in the corner while you nestle yourself further into the covers, lavishing in the coziness of his bed. if you really focus, you can hear the low sounds of music drifting in from the living room- some oldies record eddie must've gotten from wayne, you guess.

and when he pops his head in to ask the occasional question, you feel the slight curl of your lips moving upward, the closest thing to a smile in quite some time.

eventually you start to let yourself drift in and out. you don't know it of course, but every so often those big brown eyes peek in to steal a glance at you, just to check in. he's happy to see your slow breaths, along with his blanket clutched to your chest as you sleep. he'd let you stay in his favorite spot as long as you needed. forever, he’d hoped.

 a couple hours pass when you blink your eyes open again, getting a good stretch in when you hear the sounds of eddie moving around in the kitchen. there's something that feels nice about it, warm. you like the reminder that he’s still there with you, just doing his own thing- ready when you needed him.

"eds?" you call out, voice groggy.

it's only a few seconds later when you hear his footsteps shuffling down the hall, the soft thud of a heavy glass is placed next to you, and you already know what he wants before he says "just try and drink half the glass. for me? gotta drink your water, baby." he looks at you with those brown eyes, warm and full.

you let out a small sigh, but manage to prop yourself up, leaning on an elbow to get it over with. once you’ve finished the glass, you meet those loving eyes that gaze down at you as he gives you a sincere "thank you, sweetheart.” 

a small meal and a shower later, you return to his room, leaning against the doorframe while he throws on a pair of pajama bottoms. 

he senses your presence and turns to give you that sweet grin, asking if you want an oversized shirt to wear. he knows you too well.

“yes, please,” you nod, satisfied with his offer.

once you’re decent, he opens his eyes, and watches you climb back into bed to get cozy. 

he chooses to settle in next to you, grabbing his acoustic, he lays it flat at the foot of the bed.

“you need anything else for the night, sweet girl?”

“no, i’m okay, thank you, eds. wouldn’t mind a cuddle, though.”

“you got it.” he scoots closer and wraps a strong arm around your waist, eventually moving his hand to your crown. 

he says nothing for a while, and neither do you. you fall back into his tender touch, fingertips tracing along your scalp, nails lightly scratching up and down, back and forth giving you goosebumps. 

“that okay?” he asks you.

“mmhm. ‘s really nice...feel like i could fall asleep again,” you hum.

“fall asleep, i’ll be here,” he whispers, lips ghosting your ear.

you let yourself rest in his arms, content and peaceful with not needing to say anything else. until eddie does. 

“sweetheart, just want you to know that- i’ll always be here, okay? i know what you’re feeling, and it will lift. you don’t have to be alone for it all, okay?”

“i know it won’t always be alone,” you respond without hesitation, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze, “i know i have you. i love you, eds.” he squeezes back, “love you too, sweetheart.”

a warm kiss to your cheek makes your lips turn into a full-blown smile. you stay cozied up to him for the rest of the night, eventually getting lulled back to sleep from the soft strums of his guitar and the warm voice of your favorite person.

[kywaslost]

katsuki is scowling at you so so hard from the couch when he sees you walking across the common area, having just come out of the shower with freshly wet hair.

“the hell? are you trying to get yourself sick?” he voiced to you.

you blink. “what do you mean?”

he scoffs, as if he expected you to know exactly what he meant. “are you not gonna dry your hair?”

“oh! im letting it air dry.” you respond casually.

“tch. you’re gonna get yourself sick.” he stands up from the couch and begins going towards his dorm. “c’mon”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a little confused as you follow him. you both enter his dorm and you hear him mumbling something to himself as he rummages through his drawers looking for something.

you watch him pull out a hairdryer before he plugs it in and sits down on the end of his bed. he then moved his legs apart leaving a gap. “sit,”

a warmth spread across your face at this, realizing what he was doing. “aw wait, you’re gonna blow dry my hair for me katsuki?”

his jaw clenched. “jus’ cuz I dont wanna hear you yap when you get sick. s’all.”

you walk over and sit on the ground below him, and you feel him remove your towel from around your shoulders.

he dabs the towel against your head first, then you hear him switch the dryer on before pointing the nozzle towards your head. “let me know if it gets too hot for you”

katsuki is weirdly gentle with you, him picking up strands of your hair allowing the warm air to hit your scalp. he’s using his hand to shield your ears and neck so you don’t get burned.

it’s quiet for a while— the soft buzz of the hair dryer humming filled the room. you sigh, feeling yourself relax a bit. It actually did feel pretty nice.

katsuki’s fingers continue tugging gently through your hair, keeping it detangled as he worked section by section.

soon, you could feel your eyelids began to feel heavy and your shoulders were drooping. the warm. hum of the hair dryer along with katsuki touch wasn’t helping at all.

“oi. don’t fall asleep on me,” he fingers graze your ear, “I’m almost done.”

you tried to respond, but it was too late. your head was already bobbing to the side as your breathing began to slow.

katsuki caught your head in his palm, so he decided to guide you to rest on his thigh as he finished up.

a little grin appeared on his face as he stared down at you, before whispering to himself. “idiot.”

his touch was more gentle than before— being careful to not wake you. a few minutes later, he had finished and turn the dryer off.

he sat there gazing at you for a bit, before he tucked all of your hair behind your ears, out of your face.

“hey, wake up. you’re all done.” he’s running his fingers across your hairline softly, trying to wake you up.

you yawn, “mmh, already?” you lift your head from his thigh, practically still asleep. “thanks kats, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,”

his face flushes. “don’t mention it. let’s get you to bed now yeah?”

.ᐟ

[kywaslost]

thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki...

"jisu you seem like you think abt being too clingy a LOT. didn't you just recently write this fic and that fic that are basically the exact same prompt?" no you can sybau.

you’re standing in the doorway of his dorm, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

he’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, legs spread just enough to be inviting without trying. hoodie half-zipped, sweats hanging low on his hips, phone in one hand, completely relaxed.

you are not.

you want to sit with him. in his lap. be tucked in, held tight, kissed maybe once or twice until you melt into him like sugar in hot tea.

but your feet don’t move.

you feel like if you climb into his space first, it’ll make it obvious how badly you want it. how you’ve been thinking about it all day. how when you woke up this morning, a part of you was already aching for his arms.

and what if he doesn’t want that right now?

what if he’s tired, or busy, or just not feeling it?

you shift from foot to foot.

his eyes flick up for only a second before going back to his phone.

“you comin’ in or just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?”

your cheeks flush a little.

“shut up.”

he hums. doesn’t banter. just sets his phone aside, like, completely, not even face-up, and looks at you properly now. tilts his head a little.

and you see it. the way his gaze softens. the way his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile, because if he does, the world will probably collapse or something.

he opens his arms. slow, easy.

“c'mere.”

you hesitate. not because you don’t want to. but because you do, and that’s the part that always scares you. you want him so much. you love him with your whole heart and soul and would spend every second being close with him if you could. but does he? are you being too much? too clingy? your own insecurity and self-doubt eats at you.

he catches that in your face. always does. so he adds, voice lower now:

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make me ask twice.”

maybe the nickname does it. or maybe it's his tone, or the look in his eyes. either way, it does you over.

you pad over quietly, still a little unsure, until you’re standing between his knees. he reaches for your hips, not rough like how he does most things, but careful, like he doesn’t want to rush you.

“lemme hold you, yeah?”

you nod.

and that’s it.

he pulls you in, smooth and easy, guiding you into his lap like you’ve always belonged there. one arm wraps firm around your lower back. the other slides up under your hoodie to settle warm against your spine.

he exhales deep, like tension he didn’t even notice was there just fell out of his chest.

“fuck. there you are.”

you melt.

your face tucks into his neck. your arms go around his shoulders. your whole body curls up like it knows exactly how to fit against him now. no more guessing. no more hovering.

he rubs your back, slow and steady, fingers dragging ticklishly but soothingly along skin.

“you don’t gotta wait for me to say it every time,” he mumbles into your hair.

“if you want this, just take it. always want you close.”

you nod against his neck, lips brushing warm against his pulse.

and he holds you tighter, just for a moment, like he needs to be sure you believe it.

you do.

masterlist

[kywaslost]

CRASHOUT CENTRAL!

synopsis: katsuki has no idea if you like him or not

notes: bubbly + affectionate reader. umm implied hetero girl i think? but could also apply to not hetero i have no idea im sorry im just writing. idk if men crashout the way girls do but i like to think so. a lot of excessive unnecessary swearing bc it's katsuki. this is so ooc bc lets be fr when does katsuki talk abt *puke* feelings

he’s pacing.

shirtless. agitated. hair all mussed from his own frustrated hands.

kirishima’s lying on his bed with his hands behind his head, watching his best friend spiral for what has to be the third time this week.

“she said i smelled good,” katsuki huffs, whirling around. “who says that? who just..! says that to someone?”

“people who think you smell good?” kirishima offers helpfully.

katsuki glares at him like he’s the dumbest person alive. “she said it while huggin' me. and she said it in that sweet fuckin' singsongy voice.”

“right.”

“and then laughed when i didn’t say anything back. all fuckin' giggly and stupid.”

“you like when she’s giggly and stupid,” kirishima points out.

katsuki makes a noise in his throat. “not when i’m trying to figure out if she’s in love with me or just likes everyone.”

kirishima hums. “well. she is kind of a naturally affectionate person.”

“exactly!” katsuki snaps, flinging his arms out. “what if i’m just one of her little fuckin'.. plushies she likes huggin' or some shit? what if she’s going around being all sweet and smiley with everyone and i’m here thinking she wants to marry me? like, seriously. i've seen her cuddle with fuckin' pinky and round cheeks too, and she's always so.. giggly! and when i think she's flirting, she says it so fuckin' casual. like it's nothing. and i must be fuckin' delusional to think that it's anything more.”

kirishima snorts. “well, ashido and uraraka are both girls. and she doesn’t cuddle me the way she cuddles you.”

katsuki freezes.

“…you think?”

“bro, she lies on top of you like you’re a mattress. more than that, she like really curls in to you. no one does that platonically. that's just not a thing.”

katsuki makes another miserable groaning sound and throws himself down into the beanbag chair like he’s been wounded. he drags his hands down his face, muffling a scream into his palms.

“i don’t know anymore,” he mutters. “she calls me ‘kats’ like it’s just a nickname but then she’ll say it in that soft fuckin' voice like it’s something else. she’s always touching me and smiling and calling me cute but she does it so casually, like it’s just her being her. i don’t know what’s real. i don’t know if i’m hallucinating. i think i’m losing my goddamn mind. like, it's the tone. she goes all 'aweee, thanks kats!' in that stupid fuckin' sing-songy tone. i hate it! fucking..!” kirishima has no idea what katsuki's trying to punch to death. the air, maybe?

after watching him flop around like a dying fish for a moment, he offered gently, “why don’t you just ask her how she feels?”

katsuki sits up. furious.

he says nothing, but kirishima can tell what he's trying to say just from his look.

“well then,” kirishima shrugs. “guess you’ll just have to keep suffering.”

and katsuki does. every time you brush your fingers over his knuckles or play with his hoodie strings or grin at him from across the room with that stupid sweet look in your eyes, he suffers. quietly. dramatically.

because he wants you to mean it so badly.

but he has no idea if you do.

masterlist