#comfortember 2022

[comfortember]

Comfortember 2022!

IT’S HERE!!

Just a reminder, Comfortember is a month-long challenge during the month of November and the focus is all things comfort. Whether in the form of fluff, recovery, post-whump, or all of the above, it’s a ton of fun and really heartwarming!! This challenge is open to all fandoms and it’s open to all forms of art, not just fanfiction. Please use the #comfortember tag when you post so all the fics will be in one place!

I don’t really use ao3 so I tried my best with the collection, tell me if there’s anything wrong!

Without further ado here’s the prompts:

I hope you all enjoy this year’s prompts! Again Im new so if you have any constructive criticism feel free to tell me! :D If you have any question you can send an ask, dm me, join the discord, or check out the FAQ!! And btw the fastest way is definitely discord since Im not always logged into tumblr but I will do my best to be logged in more often during the event!

And remember to use the alt prompts if any of them make you uncomfortable or if you don’t want to do them for any reason! Thank you all so much for your patience and have fun!! -HD And under the cut is the prompts written out for easy readability!

1. Hugs

2. Stressed

3. Warm Food

4. Overthinking

5. Game Night

6. Exhaustion

7. Comfort Item

8. Afraid to ask for help

9. Day out

10. Breakdown

11. Holding Hands

12. Concern

13. Losing track of time

14. Encouraging

15. A Quiet Moment

16. Shelter

17. Falling asleep on someone

18. Overwhelmed

19. Cold

20. Self Care

21. Anxiety Attack

22. Pets

23. Pass Out

24. Night Time

25. Lost

26. Getting Sleep

27. Proud

28. Quality Time

29. Distance

30. Moving Forward

ALT:

1. Flowers 2. Frozen 3. Calm 4. Plushies 5. Create

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

DAY TWO: Stress w/ Professor!Spencer Reid

a/n: Yes, this is another late post, but hey, it was posted, so whatever! This can be seen as a continuation/a drabble of the couple in the oneshot 'Me & My Husband' :]

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback

Spencer's passion to be the best professor he can be for his students was admirable, but an as equally stressful task as well. He was constantly organized and energetic, making sure that no kid's assignment was left ungraded, and as sure as hell no one was failing, not on his watch. Sometimes, he forgot about himself, and that's where you'd come in. Like tonight, where you found him hunched over a bunch of papers, unruly curly hair threaded between his fingers as he took deep breaths.

"Spence?" You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, but instantly relaxed under the weight of your hand. "What're you doing here, I thought you went home already." He said tiredly, rubbing some of the exhaustion out of his eyes. You shook your head no with a sad smile on your face, "Mm, I was waiting for my husband, but consider me surprised when I found myself waiting in our car for over an hour." He let out an airy but guilty laugh. "I'm sorry, I just — I just have a few more tests to grade before we can go." A few meant possibly hundreds, depending on how fast he was going.

Yes, he used to be able to read super fast, and even have an eidetic memory, but as he has gotten older, his brain doesn't run as fast as it used to. You knew he hated it, even though it served him well in his early years of teaching.

"How about you stop where you're at now, and we go to bed as soon as we get home?" You suggested, running your hands up and down his shoulders, crawling down his back. You felt the shivers run up his spine, his body slumping as he finally let the many sleepless nights catch up to him. "But I—" He tried to argue. "Nope, no excuses. I don't know what I would do if I allowed you to tug your hair out until you go bald. Why else would I have married you?" You teased as you began to pack up his stuff. "Oh really?" He asked with a small smile on his face.

"Really."

[jessybarnes]

Tell Them, Honey

Title: Tell Them, Honey

Pairing: Stucky x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,235

Tags: Angst, fluff, pining, Steve and Bucky are concerned, Natasha is plotting, Stucky, drinking, metal arm kink, implied fingering, implied sex, explicit language, and I think that's it.

Written For: @comfortember and @stuckybingo

Square(s) Filled: I5 - Metal Arm for Stucky Bingo

Comfortember Day 12: Concern

Beta(s): Just Grammarly

It isn't fair.

How does Fury expect you to focus on anything as an assistant when you're tasked to work with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes?

The moment you met them, you were knocked off of your feet... almost literally.

You were running late to your first day of work after being stuck in traffic. You'd rushed off the elevator and down the hallway toward the conference room to try and get to your morning meeting on time. Right as you rounded the corner, you smacked into Steve's hard chest and lost your balance. If it hadn't been for Bucky catching you, you'd have hit the floor.

Now, almost two years later, you're just as head over heels for them as you were then, if not more so. It's no secret that the two super soldiers are a couple. They've been together for years, and you'd be lying if you said you haven't thought about what it would be like to be fucked by both of them.

It's a miracle that you've been able to hide your feelings for them this long. Normally, you're easy to read, but maybe it's because everyone you work for and with is always so busy.

Tonight is one of the rare occasions where everyone has the evening off, and Tony, of course, isn't letting it go to waste.

It's nothing formal, but you're still in a shimmery cocktail dress, courtesy of Natasha. She practically had to drag you here, and you haven't left the bar since everyone started arriving.

You scan the crowd and smile at all of the familiar faces. Thor, Loki, Stephen, Bruce, Wanda, Vision, Tony, Pepper, Peter, and so many others seem to be having the time of their lives, and after all they do for the world, they deserve it.

Natasha makes you another rum and coke and slides it down the bar into your hand. You swirl the dark liquid around for a moment and bring the glass to your lips just as Steve and Bucky walk up to order a drink.

"Hey, Nat! Can Bucky and I get some of that stuff Thor always drinks?"

Your eyes drag over their muscular frames and you bite your lip. It really should be a crime to look as good as they do. Steve leans against the bar and smiles at you, his action making Bucky turn around. His metal hand brushes your knee and your breath hitches.

"Oh! I'm sorry, doll. I didn't realize how close I was to you."

Natasha rolls her eyes and begins preparing their drinks. It's a wonder that these two haven't picked up the signs because she certainly knows you want them. Hell, she's stood here and watched you oogle them for the past five minutes. Add this to the list of all the other times, and well, it doesn't take a genius to see that you're infatuated.

You set your drink down with a shaky hand and look down at your lap. "It-It's umm... it's okay..." Smooth...real smooth, Y/N. Now he's going to think you're hurt or something.

Bucky furrows his brow, "hey, are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Yep...real fucking smooth. Now you have to talk to them again.

Steve reaches over and tilts your head up with two of his fingers, "you can always tell us anything, sweetheart. Just because you're our assistant doesn't mean you're beneath us."

"I-I'm not hurt. I've just ah...had a long day and am pretty tired."

They don't look convinced, but at least they don't push you any further. Natasha hands over their drinks and shoos them away. Once they've crossed the room she leans across the bar so only you can hear her.

"Tell them, honey."

You choke on your drink, "t-tell who what?"

"Oh, don't play me for a fool, Y/N. You're not as subtle as you think, babe. I, literally, just watched you practically drool over Rogers and Barnes in real time, and it's not the first time either."

You glance over at them for a moment. They're laughing with Thor about something and it makes your heart skip when Bucky leans over to peck Steve on the cheek.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

She sighs and wipes down the bar top with a damp towel, "staring, Y/N."

You shake your head, "Nat, I can't tell them! They're in a relationship already and it doesn't look like they want to add someone else to the picture. Plus, I don't think they even swing my way, so..." You trail off and she points a finger at you.

"Natasha!" You squeak and blush furiously.

"Those two may have been around for over a century, but I can promise you that they've been with a woman before. I can speak from experience with one of them, and the other may have had a few late nights with one of the USO girls."

You gawk at her as she smirks, "you...you mean... w-with umm...you...Bucky?"

She chuckles and pours herself a martini. "Yes, James and I...we were a thing once. It hasn't happened in years though. Not since Steve got his head out of his ass and told Bucky how he felt. Which you also need to do if I'm being honest." She brings the glass to her lips and smirks again, "oh, and his metal fingers? Fucking fantastic."

"What? I'm sure Steve will agree with me." Her smile widens and she nods over your shoulder. "Let's ask him, shall we? Looks like he's coming over for another round."

You give her a pleading look, "no! Oh, my god...please don't ask him!"

"Ask me what?"

Steve leans against the bar and glances between the two of you quizzically. He notes your flushed skin and shaky hands again and grasps your wrist gently, your pulse thrumming against his fingertips.

"Jesus, sweetheart, you're shaking like a leaf. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

You open your mouth to answer him, but Natasha beats you to it.

"Oh, she's fine! I was just telling her how skilled Bucky is with those metal fingers of his. You agree with me, right Steve?"

The blonde super soldier looks deep into your eyes and you swear you see them darken a fraction.

"So, you're curious about Bucky's arm, hm?"

"Who's curious about my arm?" The man himself comes up behind Steve and wraps his flesh hand around his waist.

Oh, god...just please let the ground open up and swallow me whole...

You bury your face in your hands and shake your head. "Just, please...forget I was even here. I-I'm sorry... I'm just gonna go to bed."

As you get up to leave, Steve steps into your path and blocks your way. The smirk on his face doesn't ease your mind in the least bit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I think we should talk about this, Y/N. Bucky deserves to know what you and Natasha have been talking about over here, now don't you agree?"

Bucky raises an eyebrow curiously, and you nervously play with your hands, "I...um...yes?"

"Good girl," Steve praises and places his big hand on the small of your back.

"Come on, doll, we'll walk you to your room."

Bucky puts an arm on your shoulder and Natasha watches as the three of you head off toward the elevators.

She chuckles and shakes her head, "and my work here is done."

Tagging: @sarahrogersevans @chrisevansdaughter @brandyywar @nerdygingermoose88

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : Needless Apologies and Loving Hands

@marchofpain 2024 prompt : Apologies

@hurtcember 2023 prompt : Flashback

@comfortember 2022 prompt : Breakdown

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : The Owl House

Pairing : Hunter/Willow

Additional tags : Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hunter | The Golden Guard has PTSD (The Owl House), Flashbacks, Apologies, Crying, Mental Breakdown, Startling, Hurt/Comfort, Reassurance, Hunter | The Golden Guard Needs a Hug (The Owl House), Good Significant Other Willow Park, Scars, Grounding, Stimming, Autistic Hunter | The Golden Guard (The Owl House) (if you squint)

Word count : 469

[tallfroggie]

Comfortember Day 1: Hugs

Hey guys! I’m going to try doing Comfortember this year (barring art block and schoolwork getting in the way). It’ll all be Geraskier from the AU I’m writing where Geralt is fresh out of Kaer Morhen and Jaskier is an older, wiser professor who just wants to teach him gentle things. The link is in my bio if you’d like to read it ;)

[breakfastteatime]

Comfortember Day 26: Getting Sleep

BD-1 likes to check in on everyone late at night once they're all asleep. After confirming the ship's systems are fully operational, with no Imperial frequencies anywhere in range, BD-1 hops off the helm and heads through the ship.

First, of course, is their bogling friend. She's curled up under the holotable, tail coiled around her body. A quick scan confirms she is sleeping peacefully. BD-1 has noted (and informed Cal) that the bogling likes the holotable's warmth and will sleep there whenever she can.

Next, the terrarium. Everything is growing well. Greez is a capable horticulturist. Here, BD-1 slides into a vent that he has mapped out and discovered will take him across all the cabins and back to the engine room. He'd told Cal a surprising number of socks had found their way into the vents. Cal asked if any would fit him. BD-1 suggested that they'd fit if he liked his socks to reach his waist. Cal replied he could've used socks like that on Ilum and Bracca.

Cal says lots of funny things.

The next stop on BD's tour is Greez's cabin. The vent outlet is directly over Greez's bed. Tonight, Greez is sleeping in his back, blanket tucked up to his neck. He sleeps less than everyone else, and, despite BD-1's probability calculations, does not snore. He's a very light sleeper (BD-1 accidentally woke him up one night during an exploration, and learned to move a lot quieter and slower in his hearing range. Greez really does know every single sound the Mantis should and should not make). Sometimes Greez will stay up late watching gambling streams (never betting. Not any more) or cooking shows on the holonet, but tonight, he is sleeping well. BD-1 moves on.

Crossing the hallway, dodging a sprocket that BD-1 is certain does not belong to any mechanisms aboard the Mantis and is therefore a complete mystery, he checks in on Cere and Merrin. Their bunks are against either wall. Merrin, BD-1 knows, is happy to have company again. Sometimes, when he runs his checks, he will hear Merrin and Cere talking until late into the night. One time, he listened to Merrin talking about how she practiced her teleporting with her sisters by playing hide and seek. Cere explains Jedi played hide and seek too by either muffling their presences in the Force or learning to manipulate the minds of others around them and making them simply not notice the Jedi moving among them. (BD-1 wants Cal to learn how to do this as soon as he can.) Tonight, however, Merrin and Cere are both sleeping peacefully. BD-1 knows sometimes Cere finds it hard to sleep, and she will slip from her cabin and spend the night in the galley drinking tea (BD-1 will often join her if he doesn't need a full recharge cycle). Tonight, she is asleep. Good. Humans require lots of sleep.

Finally, BD-1 heads to the engine room and hops out of the vent Cal loosened for him. Cal's asleep on his side, his back to BD-1. Cal sleeps heavily. So heavily, he doesn't notice when he talks or walks in his sleep. Tonight he isn't doing either. He has, however, kicked his blanket all the way down to his toes and his body temperature is creeping lower. Too low. It will wake him up. So, BD-1 hops onto the bed, works his way under the blanket, lifts it with his head, and drags it back up to Cal's shoulders. Cal doesn't even stir. Good.

Freeing himself, BD-1 hops off the bed and onto the workbench. It is time he plugged in for a recharge. His crew is safe, and now he can join them and get some much-needed rest.

[toxiclxki]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Words: 766

Day 2 is here! This one is different from the one I originally planned for this day, but I kinda like it anyway!

[ctrsara]

Post-Surgery Sleepover

Read on AO3

After Pepper has emergency surgery, Happy and Rhodey are having a hard time getting Tony to take care of himself, so they call in the big guns.

@Comfortember 2022 prompts #3 - Warm Food, #6 - Exhaustion, and #17 - Falling Asleep on Someone and Using Irondad Prompt #40 from @idk-bruh-20, idea from @bayzadas

Happy Hogan and Colonel James Rhodes met Peter Parker, who was wiping at the lingering dampness in his hair, at the hospital room door. Thankfully, the suit Tony had made him was fairly water-tight. 

“Hey, kid. Thanks for coming. How’s the weather out there?” They were having an unseasonably cold thunderstorm that evening.

“Getting colder, but not too bad, he said with a slight shiver. I made good time. How is she?” Peter’s face was worried, as it  probably had been since he’d gotten Happy’s text a few hours before school got out that day. Happy almost hadn’t remembered to tell Peter he couldn’t pick him up for the internship today, since Pepper was having an emergency appendectomy. The kid had asked if he could do anything to help, and Happy had told him no. Later that night he’d changed his mind, though, and had texted Peter again.

Hey kid, if you’re not busy, maybe you could come to the hospital? We could use your help after all. Just whenever.

Peter had, of course, dropped whatever he was doing, and had arrived thirty minutes later, at nearly 10 PM.

“Pepper’s going to be fine,” Happy assured him. “The surgery went well, and she’s recovering. They’ve got her on some strong stuff, and she’ll probably be out the rest of the night, they said.”

Peter nodded in obvious relief. “So, what can I help with then?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

Happy nodded at the window in the hospital suite’s door. “You see that guy in there?” Peter looked through to see Tony sitting on the couch, apparently working on some project. He looked a little tired and stressed, but otherwise okay. 

Rhodey picked up the narrative. “He slept about an hour last night, since Pepper’s appendix started doing its thing shortly after midnight, and he got maybe four the night before. Plus, no one has had any luck getting him to eat anything all day, but he’s had enough caffeine to power a whole floor of interns. We thought he’d settle down and eat and sleep after she came through the surgery okay, but no such luck. Can you help us with him?”

Peter looked startled. “Me? What can I do?”

“Well,” said Happy, turning to the table behind him to grab a big styrofoam container, “You can start by getting him to eat. I just got this baked potato soup and some rolls from the cafe across the street.”

“Wouldn’t Colonel Rhodes have better luck?” Peter asked hesitantly, turning to his mentor’s best friend. “You can usually get him to do stuff.”

“I cut off his coffee two hours ago,” Rhodey said, “so he’s mad at me.”

Peter appeared to mull it over, holding the hot container of soup in his hands. “Wow, it smells so good,” he said, inhaling as he brought the container closer to his face. He tilted his head to the side.

“Do you think you could find me a couple of bowls and spoons?” Peter asked the two men.

Happy rushed off to make that happen. Any idea the kid had, he would try. He tried not to show it, but he was mildly frantic with worry about his boss. The man hadn’t slept even as much as he normally did this week, and his stress over Pepper’s pain and eventual surgery had him in a weird headspace. He had no idea how they were going to get the man to sleep tonight, but he needed it desperately. 

It was hard enough to get him to sleep at the Tower or the Compound when anyone was hurt or otherwise under care. Here at a “normal” (but very fancy) hospital, it seemed a hopeless attempt, even though Happy had asked for a twin-sized rollaway bed to join Pepper’s in her recovery suite. But getting Tony into that bed sounded impossible. Happy sighed. Food first.

“Here,” he said a few minutes later, brandishing the paper bowls and disposable spoons at the teenage superhero like they were weapons he was taking into a battle with particularly bad odds. Which, they kind of were.

“Okay,” Peter said, grabbing the bag of rolls, too. “I’m ready.”

Rhodey opened the door. Tony looked up with a poisonous glare. “Tones, the kid’s here to see you. Be nicer to him than you’ve been to us, okay?” He ushered Peter through the door. Happy was relieved that he left it ajar. He wanted to make sure they could hear. Tony would regret it later if things got out of hand and he yelled at the kid. It was kind of like kicking an overeager puppy, and Tony was usually pretty soft with the boy, but Happy wanted to be able to interfere if needed.

“Pete? What are you doing here?” Tony sounded surprised and a bit nonplussed. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather. Did you swing here?” he asked in mild alarm.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. I really wanted to see you, and see that Ms. Pepper was okay, so Happy finally told me it was okay to come.” Man, the kid ignored the last question and lied like a pro when he was trying to help someone else, apparently.

“Hey, I hadn’t had dinner yet though, and I thought you might be hungry, too, so I grabbed us some soup and these amazing-looking rolls on my way in. Want some?” He sounded completely sincere in his story. 

“Since when can Mr. I’m-a-superhero-but-I’m-also-like-ten” lie so smoothly?” whispered Rhodey incredulously. Happy just shrugged and shook his head in amazement. “I dunno. But I’m gonna be keeping my eye on him,” he said with a chuckle.

“Thanks kid, but I’m not hungry,” Tony replied distractedly. Looking through the window, they could see Peter ignore Tony’s refusal, and carefully pour soup into the two bowls, tearing off a couple rolls to go with each one. He arranged them on the little coffee table in front of the couch Tony had set up his work all over.

“Please, Tony? Don’t make me eat alone.” Happy couldn’t see Peter’s face, but the look he was probably giving Tony was one that had never failed yet. It was the main reason Happy had asked him to come here tonight, despite the rough weather outside, and despite Tony’s possible displeasure at Happy involving him.

Tony sighed in annoyance. “Fine, gimme.”

Peter moved sideways so Happy could see the happy grin on the boy’s face as he carefully handed Tony the bowl of soup, and set the rolls at his side. The kid dropped onto the floor on the other side of the table, sitting with his legs crossed to start eating his soup.

“Pete, hold on. Don’t sit on the floor.” Tony sounded more exasperated and resigned than annoyed or angry now, and he moved his tablet and piles of notes into an untidy stack and set them on the table, clearing a spot on the couch next to him, which the boy happily took.

Happy and Rhodey watched in awe (well, observed through sneaky glances here and there) as the kid got Tony to eat two full bowls of soup. Peter refilled both their bowls when they were empty, despite the mild glare his mentor shot at him while chewing on a roll. When Tony wasn’t looking, Rhodey whispered Peter’s name and set two bottles of water inside the cracked door. The sneaky little punk soon found a good excuse for those as well, and managed to get Tony to drink most of a bottle.

When the engineer acted like he was going to get back to work, Peter asked about watching a movie instead. Tony declined, starting to bring up designs on his Starkpad. Then the real sorcery happened.

“So, I’ll bet you were pretty scared when Ms. Pepper had to come in, huh?”

Tony froze, looking up from his notes in palpable discomfort.

Peter kept his gaze elsewhere. “When my Uncle Ben had to have his gallbladder out, it was super scary, and I hated thinking about what might happen during the surgery. I mean, usually everything is fine, but things happen, you know?” 

“Yeah, Pete,” Tony said quietly. “It’s scary. I’m glad she’s going to be okay.”

Tony abruptly started putting his papers away, then set them all down on the floor. “What do you want to watch, kid?” Tony asked gruffly, laying his head back in defeat. Apparently, the only thing Tony Stark hated worse than not working himself to distraction when he was stressed, was being forced to confront and talk about his feelings.

Peter grabbed at the olive branch quickly, clicking the tv on and rapidly scrolling through the options. “Hey, can we watch ‘The Martian?’ We never finished it, and it’s right in the middle, it looks like.”

“Are you serious? We stopped because it was so slow, kid. It barely kept your attention before.”

“Well, I want to finish it now. Is that okay, or do you want to pick?”

“Fine,” Tony grumbled.

Thirty minutes later Rhodey and Happy snuck quietly into the hospital suite, looking in amazement at Tony, who was fast asleep. He had his arm behind his intern, his head resting partially on his own shoulder and partially against Peter’s head. The boy greeted them with a soft smile. 

“Hey. I did it. Now what?”

“Uh…” Happy hadn’t though the plan past this point because he didn’t think it would get to this point. “Um, any chance we can get him into that bed? He nodded towards the twin-sized rollaway. 

Peter quirked an eyebrow, looking between the sleeping hero at his side and at the bed. “Can you bring it over here by the couch? Maybe move this table? I think I could slide him onto it without waking him if we don’t have to move him very far.”

Rhodey and Happy hurried to comply, pulling the top sheet and blanket completely down and out of the way. The overpowered teenager did manage to tilt and slide his mentor until he could roll him gently onto the bed, and they all held their breath to see if the slightly jostling would wake him. It didn’t. 

Peter stood up and stretched, ducking into the en suite bathroom briefly before returning. 

“I think we should move the bed over in this corner, as far away from Pepper’s as we can. People will probably come in a few times tonight, and we don’t want to risk waking Tony unless Pepper is awake,” Rhodey was explaining to Happy.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” The two men began to slowly move the bed further into the second part of the L-shaped hospital room, but at the last minute, Rhodey tripped over a cord, causing him to push the bed into the wall with a loud, abrupt thunk .

Immediately Tony stirred, groaning a little, and moving his hand around on the other side of the bed, obviously unsure where he was. Happy was certain his face reflected the horror on Rhodey and Peter’s.

Peter, moving just a little too fast to be normal, toed off his tennis shoes and slipped up on the bed next to Tony, rolling in close to him. “Shhh. I’m right here,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep.”

And, surprisingly, Tony did. But not before turning to wrap his arm around Peter’s warm form and burying his nose in the top of the kid’s hair. Rhodey backed up rapidly, a hand over his mouth to avoid exclaiming, and Happy was biting back laughter hard at the wide-eyed look on the teen’s face. He was so surprised, and so unsure what had just happened. It didn’t look like there was any chance of Tony giving him up and staying asleep though. 

Peter glared mildly at Happy. “Pretty sure you owe me for this,” he muttered in a whisper. “And you’d better text my aunt.”

Happy nodded enthusiastically. Anything the kid wanted. Seriously. Peter sighed and shifted carefully so he was laying a little less flat, and Rhodey shoved a pillow behind his back for support in response to the pointed look the kid gave him and then the pillow. Then Peter tucked his head a little more securely under Tony’s, sighed softly in what might have been contentment, and closed his eyes. 

“FRIDAY, play some white noise please,” Peter said quietly. Surprisingly, Tony’s phone responded from the couch, doing just that. That was smart thinking. Maybe it would help keep Tony from being disturbed by any hospital personnel that needed to come in.

----------------

Early the next morning, Pepper was back asleep when Happy woke up on the couch, where he’d been taking his turn for some shut-eye. Pepper had woken briefly in the night when they came in to take her vitals and check her meds, but after a look across the room at her sleeping husband and his life-size teddy bear, and a quickly whispered explanation, she had forbidden them from waking him. Rhodey was reading in the recliner in Pepper’s part of the room. And Tony was… oh. Tony was awake, too, and looked completely bewildered. The curly-headed teen was snuggled into his side, but still passed out.

“What in the world happened here?” Tony whispered incredulously, half raised on an elbow. Peter stirred, and with a quick glance at the still-dark sky outside, and at Pepper sleeping peacefully, he laid back down, shushing the teen quietly. Peter stopped moving. 

Tony turned his head to stare skeptically at his forehead of security, and Happy was pretty sure he was going to hear about his part in this ambush. But his boss had eaten and slept all night, so he really didn’t care. What was he going to do? Fire him?

Happy felt a particular kind of satisfaction about ten minutes later when he noticed that Tony had fallen back asleep with his arm slung over the sleeping teenager. It was shaping up to be a very good day.

[poly-outatime]

Comfortember Day 13: Loosing track of time

Doc telling Marty interesting facts about the wheels on his skate. The boy listens carefully. They don't even notice how fast time goes by.

[whumpncomfort]

The Doctor and Rose: Holding Hands

“There's a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive… wormhole refractors… You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold."

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

DAY TEN: Breakdown w/ Daryl Dixon

a/n: Oh my gosh I loved writing this one so much, like a reunion between the reader and Daryl was what immediately popped into my brain whenever I saw this prompt. So, strap in because this is gonna get very emotional :`]

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback

Daryl was gone. Your boyfriend was gone and now you were all alone in a war that you didn't even know if you were going to win. Not only were you forced to watch Glenn and Abraham's death, you had to be held back as Daryl was taken, thrown into the back of a van as you struggled against Negan's men. It felt like a sick love story as he was snatched away from you.

Now here you were mentally scarred as well as tired and angry. You don't remember the last time you had slept and when you did, you would usually cry yourself to sleep. You were an unstoppable force, making constant plans, impulsive, basically ignoring and pushing away your friends. No one could talk to you, no one could break down your walls that you had built up around yourself; if anyone were to ask about you, they would say that you weren't the same. There was no spark in your eyes, in your soul, the only thing fueling you was revenge and grief.

The one thing you hated was that you didn't know whether he was alive or not, and you were living as if you were already dead. You were with Rick, Michonne, Tara, Carl and Rosita, as your group had finally arrived a Hilltop. Seeing Maggie again with her short hair was strange, the remainder of it tucked under her jean hat. You watched from afar as Rick and her reconciled, your heart aching as you watched him apologize to her, and asking her how her baby was. You would have liked to been able to have little Dixon's running around one day, seeing as though Daryl was already serving as a wonderful uncle and protector to Judith.

You watched as two figures walked out from behind a wall, Rick standing aghast as he pulled away from Maggie's hold. You froze as you watched him embrace Daryl, your body stuck in place. Tara nudged you, signaling for you to make a move as you just stared. It felt like everything had finally hit you all at once as you felt people's gazes, practically all of them burning holes into you as your tears began to form. This was the first time in ages that you had finally felt something, felt an emotion that wasn't driven by hate.

"Daryl.." You whimpered out before taking off in a sprint. He met you with the same amount of speed before your bodies collided, despite the air being knocked out of your lungs at the impact, there were tears falling out of your eyes as you sobbed loudly. You were practically on the verge of wailing as you went limp in his arms, yours that were wrapped around his neck with an iron grip. You both fell to your knees as you remained in each other's embrace, Daryl shedding a few tears himself.

You allowed all of your pain that you had pushed deep down inside you to resurface, chest heaving as your lungs desperately gasped for air.

"Oh my Daryl.." You whispered. You pulled back from him so you could cup his face, examining the heavy eye bags his handsome face now adorned, the trembling in his jaw as he looked at you too. "I never thought I'd see you again, but you're alive." You said the last part with a watery smile, a disbelieving laugh managing to weasel itself out of your throat. "'M here." He rasped, dragging you back into him so that you can embrace once more.

[jessybarnes]

You're Not Alone

Title: You're Not Alone

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: Around 900 maybe? I'm sorry I didn't count...

Tags: Angst, fluff, panic attacks, crying, hard to breathe, stress, afraid to ask for help, and I think that's it.

Written For: @comfortember

Day 8: Afraid To Ask For Help

Dedicated To: @sarahrogersevans and @chrisevansdaughter because they're amazing and I love them ♥️

Beta(s): None

You shut your eyes tight as your try and regulate your breathing.

These stress-induced panic attacks are happening more frequently, and it's getting to the point of being unbearable.

Between your college exams, your hours being cut at work, and trying to figure out how you're going to pay your bills, it's taken a huge toll on your body and mind. You know that's what's causing them, and you also know you should ask for help, but you don't. You never do.

Because you're scared.

The only person you trust with your heart and feelings is your best friend, Chris, and even just the thought of being this vulnerable around him makes your anxiety that much worse.

Your knuckles are white as you hunch over the sink in your bathroom. The tightness in your chest makes it feel like you can't draw in a breath and it's then that you realize it's never been this bad before.

You sink to the floor and pull your phone out of your pocket with a shaky hand. You don't want to, but as scary as it is, you find Chris’s contact and hit the call button. The fear of not being able to breathe outweighs all of the other apprehension you have.

He answers on the second ring, his voice cheerful, "hey, Y/N! What's up?"

You close your eyes tight again, forcing out what you think is a complete sentence.

"C-Chris?....please....need you....c-can't breathe..."

His whole demeanor changes and his blood runs cold when he hears how distressed you sound.

"Give me ten minutes, okay? Please stay on the phone. You don't have to talk... just... please... please don't end the call."

You drop your phone on the floor next to you and try desperately to take in a deep breath, but to no avail. Every second that passes makes you feel like you're that much closer to losing the battle.

You don't even hear your front door open or Chris call out your name. He wanders aimlessly through your house until he finally finds you.

He opens the door and immediately gets on his knees in front of you, his big, warm hands cradling your face.

"Y/N? I'm here now it's okay... come on, honey, you've gotta breathe for me." His eyes scan your body for any injuries, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds none.

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut again, "can't..."

"You can, sweetheart. You're so strong, baby... I know you can do this. Come on, do it with me. Breathe in through your nose, hold it for two seconds, and then slowly breathe out through your mouth."

You look into his beautiful, blue eyes and even though it seems impossible, you try for him. His fingertips ghost over your cheek as you take slow deep breaths. Chris coaches you through them, making sure you're matching what he's doing, and soon you can feel yourself starting to calm down.

"That's it, baby... you're doing so good, Y/N."

Chris wipes the stray tears from under your eyes and sits back against the wall before pulling you into his lap. You lay against his chest and listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat while he gently rubs your back.

"Just keep breathing like this for me, okay? I've got you, sweetheart."

"...Thank you."

Chris presses a sweet kiss in your hair and holds you a bit tighter, "no need to thank me, Y/N. You're my best friend, and I love you."

You swallow the lump in your throat and tilt your head so you're looking up at him.

"I just...I didn't want to burden you with this. You're so busy with work and family and I...I just didn't want you to lose an opportunity or something because of what I'm going through..."

Chris shakes his head, "now, you listen to me, okay? You're someone I care about. We've been friends for years, and no job, no movie, or TV show is ever going to take precedence over you. So, you can get that thought out of that pretty, little head of youre, okay baby?"

He cups your cheek and looks deeply into your eyes. "I don't care what day it is. I don't care what time it is. If you need anything...absolutely anything, you call me. I'm always going to be there for you. Day, night, rain, sleet, snow, it doesn't matter. I'll drop everything for you, honey."

You hug him tight and bury your face in his neck.

"I love you too, Chris. So much..."

[newwwwusername]

@marchofpain 2024 prompt : Screaming @storyweaverofgondor The Whumps of March 2024 prompt : These violent delights have violent ends @febuwhump 2024 prompt : Found Footage @hurtcember 2023 prompt : Paranoid @comfortember 2022 prompt : Holding Hands @badthingshappenbingo prompt : Haunted Location @streets-crimes Hurt/Comfort prompt : "don't let go" @droptheprompt Height Difference Dialogue prompt : "It's not my fault you're vertically challenged" "What did you just say?"

[cryptidwritings]

Comfortember #7 : comfort item

Masterlist

content: implied past experimentation and torture, mutation, inhuman whumpee, scientist caretaker, death mention, needle mention.

...

"The thing in pod eleven won't calm down. Whenever any of us walk past, it starts attacking the glass."

Caretaker looked at the guard, "eleven?"

"Yes."

He turned back to his computer and did a quick search through the outdated database. His teammate assured him that the encryption would be cracked in a few hours, but until then the information he could glean without a secure login was sparse.

All he could see was a brief description. height: 4ft 3in. Weight: a meager 50 pounds. Temperament: Hostile.

"Take me to it," he insisted.

The guard escorted him down two floors where the elevator descended from the open air to surrounded by solid rock on either side. When the elevator opened, he felt like he had stepped onto a new planet.

A series of blue and green lights flickered throughout the space, pointing at pod-like structures with glass that bubbled outward. Only a few were still lit, though when they had arrived, every pod was packed with... things.

Caretaker had helped lead the takeover of this facility. It was supposed to have been decommissioned over two decades ago, but was kept running by dirty money and a sick man's thirst for cruelty beyond anything Caretaker had ever seen. It was this cruelty that led Medic to make the tough decision to put most of the specimens out of their misery.

The report stated that only three were viable. Of the few, two had functional systems but with little to no response besides the occasional garbled sound.

As Caretaker approached pod eleven, he could see the naked frame huddled in the center of the floor, combing its fingers through its thick mop of tangled hair that fell well past its shoulders. It looked up as it heard his footstep along the concrete.

Caretaker was met with hatred as it barred its teeth and hissed, then lunged forward, smacking into the glass with a horrible thump.

The guard reared back in surprise, but Caretaker stood firm then crouched down to look the thing in the eye. If it weren't for its slightly elongated pupil and light purple cornea, the thing could have easily been mistaken as human. Maybe at one point it was.

It continued to bang on the glass, going so far as to slam its own head against it hard enough to draw blood. Then it began to pace, staring at Caretaker with the eye of malice and murderous intent with blood dripping down its forehead.

Suddenly Caretaker's walkie sounded off. The hack was successful, and he was needed.

He stood, and nodded to the specimen.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said, noticing how that statement made the thing growl again, "we can sit and chat. Or just sit."

He turned to walk away, and heard the thump of its body hitting the glass again. That was alright. It was good, because this specimen had Fight, and if it had Fight, that meant it wanted to live.

"Get it some new clothes."

"Yes, sir."

He went back and the new clothes were in tatters, and it was pacing. Caretaker took a seat on the ground, and the specimen stopped pacing, then sat as well, looking into the scientists eye; mocking him.

He sat across from it, and it sat across from him. He studied it, and it glared at him, and after an hour the scientist would get up and tell the thing it would be back again the next day.

So on it continued for another week, then two. The pods were dismantled around it; it's less violent pod-mates moved to another wing for rehabilitation.

This change had little emotional effect on it. Though as more days passed, he would find it sitting on the ground versus hunched over itself.

Then one day, Caretaker walked in to the almost barren room to find the specimen waiting for him, wearing the new clothes, and it looked up at Caretaker with its first semblance of an awkward, but genuine, expectant smile.

On that day, Caretaker wanted to give it something. Something it could use, but not break or use to hurt itself.

He sat on the ground and smiled a bit before reaching into his jacket. The thing saw and watched with careful apprehension, even leaning back and away, as if waiting for something to come through the glass and attack it.

Caretaker went slow, keeping one hand up as he finished revealing what was in his pocket - a whistle. He lifted it to his lips, watching the specimen carefully.

He blew, and the sound of an owl's hoot came out of the end, and the specimens eyebrows stitched together, looking at the object with fascination.

Caretaker did it again, and then offered it through the food hatch.

It stayed there for a moment, and the specimen came closer and timidly reached for the object. It touched the plastic and reared back, hiding behind its own arm for a moment before peeking back out and eyeing the scientist.

It then reached out and grabbed the object, twisting it in its hands as it studied it carefully. Eventually it brought it to its lips, and gave a small blow. The noise hooted in its ears, and something came alive within it.

"It's a bird caller," Caretaker explained, "outside, it can attract real owls if you're patient enough. Maybe one day you can try it."

Specimen looked up at that. It's eyes darkened with skepticism.

Outside. Outside was for humans. Outside was for white coats and needles and fire and excrutiating pain. Inside its pod, it was safer. Not safe - it was never safe - but white coats don't go inside the pod.

It shook its head, but held on to the object, not knowing why, but knowing it didn't want to let it go.

[uncozy-unrose]

Comfortember Day Three : Warm Food

Fandom: MCU/Captain America ♡ Main: Steve and Bucky ♡ Ship: Stucky ♡ Features: Domestic super-soldiers, Depression-Era Reminiscing, sneezing, losing voices, chilly autumn gardening, and love in the form of cooking.

Read on AO3

Somewhere, in an undisclosed stretch of land in upstate New York, two super-soldiers embarked on the task of harvesting vegetables from their garden. The chill in the autumn air indicated that it was time to begin pulling carrots up from their safe cloaks of soil and dusting off beets to prepare them for pickling later on.

Maybe Bucky will have developed a taste for them this year.

 Usually, this would be a simple feat. As previously mentioned, they were super-soldiers after all. How hard would it be to pluck an apple from their tree when you could literally rip the trunk in half with your bare hands?

Well, today, that aforementioned autumn chill was catching up with the pair. The change in the seasons, specifically from summer to fall, usually left them feeling achy, with a wide range of other symptoms including Bucky’s raw throat and Steve’s unrelenting congestion. 

A few of their more scientifically inclined friends, namely Tony, Bruce, and Shuri, came to the conclusion that their enhanced immune systems were just overreacting to the new strains of influenza and rhinovirus that peak in the fall and winter in the northeast…

Bucky and Steve usually stopped paying much attention after that, the explanations getting longer and longer each year. All that they knew was that they felt terrible, and it was best just to hole up in their home for a while and ride their illnesses out together. This proved infinitely more beneficial than being laid up in some technologically advanced medical facility where microbiologists would come in to steal their used tissues. 

Yes, the home that they had made their own a few years back, was a much better place to recoup. The pair had been fighting off fevers for the past few days and were finally starting to get out of their fog, allowing them to do something a bit more active today. They decided that a bit of light gardening and collecting some fresh vegetables for a warm stew would be an appropriate use of their time and somewhat renewed energy.

Steve, sinuses still riddled with pressure, found it painful to smile, but couldn’t help himself as he watched Bucky. The other man was haphazardly bundled in a crewneck fleece and a knit scarf, the fringe at the end dragging in the soil as he reached for the herbs in front of him.

“Who knew that James Buchanan Barnes would have such a green thumb?”

Bucky kept his gaze down, letting out a barely audible chuckle followed by a few weak coughs. He continued to pluck sprigs of rosemary off of the plant.

“Well technically, it’s a vibranium thumb…”

Steve rolled his eyes, but looked on in adoration. He placed his chin on Bucky’s shoulder and snaked his sweater-clad arms around the brunette’s waist. Brushing the dirt off of his scarf, he kissed Bucky’s jaw, noting the warmth of his skin. 

“Very funny… I guess I’m just jealous.”

Bucky tipped his chin up and to the left, catching a glance at two warm, half lidded blue eyes and stringy flaxen hair. He flashed Steve a smirk.

“Jealous?”

“Yes, jealous! Look at these baskets!” Steve, keeping his head on Bucky’s shoulder, thrust his hand forward to emphasize the bountiful harvest before them. “You planted the carrots, and the parsnips, and the herbs. You even grew that funny looking squash.”

“Okay, well you really impressed me with those potatoes…”

“I better have! If I didn’t I’m pretty sure Sarah Rogers herself would have come to haunt me.”

A few breathy chuckles were punctuated by a sniffle from Steve. A solemn silence then fell over the garden.

“I miss your mom.”

Bucky lifted his flesh hand, warmer to the touch than the other, and placed it on Steves, still resting on his abdomen. Steve threaded his right fingers through Bucky’s, pulling his vibranium hand in with his left.

“Me too”, Steve and Bucky began gently rocking side to side, “I think about her a lot when I’m out here. She would have loved this garden.”

“Hey, remember when she would take us to the gardens in the city when we were younger? The ones they made in old lots?”

“So people could feed their families, of course I remember. Sometimes that’s the only way we’d get food that week. Ma also made me pick tomatoes just to feel useful for once.”

“Yeah, and I got stuck trucking your full wagon up the hill. You were always running up behind and sneezing your ass off because you were allergic to the flowering vegetables. And the trees… and the sun.”

“Alright alright, I get it…”

As if on cue, Steve stifled two harsh sneezes into the crook of Bucky’s neck, barely scrambling out of his embrace with the other man before a third overtook him, let out forcefully, but ragged. 

“Yeah! Like that! Bless you, doll.”

“Thangk you…” Steve ran his sweater sleeve delicately under his nose, his voice rounding out with congestion. Bucky frowned.

“We should get you inside, it’s not getting any warmer out here and your cheeks are getting flushed again.”

Steve softened his features, supplying a pathetic sniffle. His shoulders dropped and his head tipped to one side, looking at Bucky with a mix of fondness and sentiment.

“I also remember you talking to me like that when we were younger. ‘Oh Stevie, your cheeks are flushed’, ‘have you got your handkerchief, Steve?’, ‘Oh doll, did you forget your gloves?”, the blonde nudged playfully.

“Are you kidding me? Have you thought about your old self lately? Its a medical miracle that you made it through the things you have. Those concerns were warranted.” 

Steve stepped back, throwing his hands up in feigned surrender. With a wet chuckle he clapped a hand on Bucky’s back.

“I know, angel” Steve reassured, “You know I know. I kid because you don’t have to worry anymore. Not in the same way, at least. I can take care of you now, too. Especially when your voice sounds like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a lawnmower!”

“Alright, alright- let’s get inside and both get warmed up.”

The pair gathered the baskets, brimming with a colorful harvest and made their way up the path toward the house. They maneuvered through the door and into the kitchen, where they began the process of sorting and washing the vegetables for their stew. 

Bucky took the job of chopping, as he argued that his knife skills were superior. Steve wanted to refute, but realized that using a sharp blade while managing fits of sneezing was probably not a wise choice. Instead, Steve sautéed carrots, onions, and celery in a pan while also bundling sachets of herbs, stealing adoring glances at the man accompanying him in the kitchen. 

He wasn’t used to this much abundance, and he knew Bucky felt similarly, but was pleased with the way they could use this meal to come together and share their love. Each of them contributing flavors and skills, stealing swift kisses and gentle touches as they warmed the bread and set out bowls and spoons. Bucky’s laugh inaudible as the steam from the pot made Steve sneeze again.

They mutually agreed to eat their meal on the couch in front of the fire, while shrouding themselves in thick flannel blankets. They recalled more memories of their childhood, swapping stories that made their eyes shine with nostalgia -finally feeling comfortable enough with their presents to look back on their pasts.  

As the night stretched on, and Bucky’s voice faded from an abrasive rasp to a painful whisper and Steve’s aching sinuses made it hard to keep his head up, they slowly came to a silence. Empty bowls of stew lay on the coffee table and the fire died down to only embers, leaving the pair of super-soldiers entwined on their sofa- finally able to just relax, to just be ill. To finally be together, and to be home.

To finally be human.

[breakfastteatime]

Comfortember Day 11 - Holding Hands

Greez and BD-1 stick with Cal. He can't be left alone... Okay, fine, maybe he could, but there's no way he will be unless all hell's breaking loose, the Empire’s on them, and the Mantis needs her pilot and a droid ready to work. Until that exact scenario occurs, Greez and BD are staying right where they are. Cal needs them. And no, they aren’t swapping out with Cere or Merrin because they both need rest as well.

They need to keep Cal calm, quiet and still. The kid still has a hole in his side that bacta and magick can only do so much with. Plus his lungs had a bit too much water in them not so long ago. Cere insists he'll be fine now with rest, but Greez has upgrading that to rest and constant monitoring. Cal's feverish and restless. Not dramatically restless; he isn't tossing and turning like he might take off running, he’s not shouting nonsense or throwing stuff around with the Force. He hasn’t even managed to kick off his blanket that Greez tucked around him a while ago. He's just... twitchy. Frowning. Mumbling. Kinda sweaty. Flushed. And it turns out redheaded Humans don’t look great when their skin’s trying to match their hair. Especially when all the red is across his cheeks and the rest of him is horribly pale.

Greez has to fix this. Or manage it at the very least. The kid’s worked so damn hard, hasn’t had a moment to catch his breath until now. It shouldn’t have taken stabbing and drowning to give him a chance to finally slow down. He needs rest. Good, quiet, peaceful rest. Except he’s not going to get it when his hands are scrabbling at the sheets, reaching for something that isn’t there.

Standing at Cal’s side, BD-1 droops and mewls. Greez reaches over, gives BD a solid pat on the head. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “I wish I could use some of that Force stuff and help him feel better too. We’re just gonna have to do it our way instead.”

Antennae wiggling, BD pauses for thought. Then, as an idea passes over his circuits, he worms his way under one of Cal’s hands. Greez chuckles and follows suit, taking hold of Cal's nearest hand. It’s still too cold for Greez’s liking. Humans don’t run as hot as Lateros (hair really doesn’t compare to fur after all), but Cal’s temperature is too high for another blanket. He’s still moving too much for the blanket to stay put too. Greez squeezes Cal’s hand gently, willing healthy warmth into him. Another of Greez’s hands brushes Cal’s sweat-and-sea-salt-drenched hair back from his forehead. Cal leans into the touch, his fretful stirring settling.

“There you go,” Greez says. “You just needed to know you weren’t alone, huh?”

Cal’s fingers twitch in Greez’s grip, slowly curling around Greez’s hand. BD-1 whistles gently, practically purring. His antennae twitch on either side of his head, brushing Cal’s fingers gently. He beeps again and Greez figures he knows what’s being said.

“Yeah, I think it’s a good sign.” Heart lifting, Greez keeps hold of Cal’s hand and plants himself more comfortably on the bed. “Alright kiddo, I don’t know for sure if you can hear me. I figure you probably can on some level, what with all your Jedi superpowers. So, listen up. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe. We got you back out of that nightmare, and now all you need to do is rest. No more of your worrying or fighting or any of that stuff. Just sleep and good dreams. You deserve it. And if you don’t start sleeping soundly, I am gonna have to bust out an old nursery rhyme or two.”

BD-1 seconds this with a cheery (if muted) series of beeps.

Greez keeps talking. “What are you gonna do when you wake up? Nothing that involves a lightsaber, let me tell ya. A quiet day with your music and the terrarium is more like it. Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at those plants. I promise I’ll teach you how to take care of them when you’re up to it. Guess I owe it to you, seeing as how you found all the seeds.” Greez chuckles. “Or maybe it’s time I finally teach you how to cook. You worked your way through my jogan pie pretty well. And I notice you’re a man who appreciates a good rice dish. Ever had kublag curry? That stuff is spicy in the right way – full of flavour and just the right amount of heat. I know, I know, it’s a traditional Life Day meal, but who says we can’t do what we want aboard my ship. Soon as you’re up for it, I’m gonna make you all your favourite meals. I’ll even let you have lie ins. I’m definitely not gonna wake you up right now until you’re up to it.”

BD-1 adds a comment here. It sounds like an insult.

“Hush, you,” Greez says. “Oversleeping’s as bad as lack of sleep. Usually. This is a special case. Cal is officially off the hook for the foreseeable.”

Disgruntled, BD-1 mutters quietly. Greez gets the feeling if Cal was awake, he’d be laughing right now.

Greez lets it go and returns to his monologuing. “Please don’t ever scare me like this again. Don’t scare any of us.” BD-1 punctuates this with such a loud beep Cal does stir and frown. Greez hushes him sharply and takes care to brush a thumb over the back of Cal’s hand. As Cal settles, BD apologises quietly. Shaking his head, Greez picks up where he left off. “We care about you, Cal, a lot. Place wouldn’t be the same without you. Or your ponchos. Actually, y’know what, that’s the first thing we’re gonna do when you’re healed up. Clothes shopping. Other outfits exist, and it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to change your style. The Empire’s gonna be looking for a redheaded scrapper after all. Besides, there’s no need to be so frugal now. Cere suggested Humans your age still potentially grow so that’s something we need to think about. Like I need you to shoot up a few more inches, make me feel really small. Anyway, clothes. Not everyone can pull off the old ankle-swinger look, alright? And I’m not saying you need a haircut, but you should probably know Merrin’s making comments about tying it back for you. I don’t have an opinion on hairstyles, honestly, I’m just making you aware. Personally, I think you should grow your hair out, rival Merrin, see who can pull off the nicer bun.”

The longer Greez talks, the more Cal settles and stills. BD-1 reports that his temperature, though still too high, has stabilised, and his readings suggest deep, restful sleep.

“There you go,” Greez says. “Just needed some company. I get it. Ol’ Greezy gets it.”

BD squawks.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you get it too, BD.” Greez places another hand around Cal’s, holding tight. A third hand reaches for the blanket, tucking it into place. “We’ve got you, kid. We’ve got you.”

(FAO @sauntering-down (✿◡‿◡))

(Also, this is an extension of this headcanon)