#hes wrapped in a blanket on my couch eating soup and grilled cheese watching the office. if you even care

[delisocks]

really truly genuinely and with my whole chest i just need to make jesse pinkman a fresh hot home-cooked meal… that would fix me

[nonbinary-eddie-munson]

I was thinking about Steve and his lack of canonical backstory and my mind went to the book Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents (a great read if you don't have the best relationship with your parents) and how that could apply to Steve and his totally real parents who definitely exist. Here part of it, i hope you like it

-

Steve Harrington had been a bit of a sickly child, nothing overly serious but colds and flus that would have any other child sick for only a few days would have Steve down for a week.

Secretly the days Steve had to stay home sick from school were his favorite because that meant his mom or dad would take off work and spend the whole day with him! The times his dad would stay home with him he would have to stay in bed all day while his dad worked from the home office periodically coming up to check on him and bring him soup and if he was lucky even read him a book!

Steve’s favorite though was when his mom would stay home from work to take care of him. His mom would wrap him up in a blanket on the couch and they would cuddle and watch cartoons. At lunch time she would cook him soup and grilled cheese (always cut diagonally) while he sat on a stool at the kitchen island watching enraptured as she sang along to her Roy Orbison records. His parents were both so busy at work it often felt that the only times he really got attention from them was when he was sick so if he played up how sick he was in order to get to spend just one more day at home with them, could anyone really blame him?

Turns out yes. Yes they could. The days of afternoon cartoons and cuddles on the couch. Of diagonal grilled cheeses and his mom belting out Blue Lagoon and Leah in the kitchen ended abruptly and painfully his 6th grade year. Flu season came around and Steve had been sick for three days already. Sure 11 was getting a little old to cuddle with is mom on the couch, Tommy would definitely make fun of him for it if he knew. But the days he was sick were really the only times his mom openly showed him affection so he reveled in the love and attention of his parents on those rare occasions.

Steve had just woken up, still a bit feverish and his throat scratchy and slowly walked down the stairs his comforter wrapped around his shoulders and trailing on the floor. He found his mother in the kitchen hurriedly cooking breakfast, she looked him over quickly before giving an annoyed huff and turning back to the stove.

“I can’t stay home with you today Steven, the office is swamped with work so I need to go in.” She said briskly, “ I made you some oat meal, so make sure to eat before you go back to bed.”

“Oh.. Okay. Thank you mom” Steve replied unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. At his reply his mother turned from the stove a stern look on her face.

“Honestly Steven I don’t understand why you can’t be more like the other children and I don’t have the time to give in to your manipulations and stay home.”

Shocked at the coldness of his mother’s words Steve took an involuntary step back, a quiet whine leaving the back of his throat.

“There you go again with your drama, trying to make me feel bad” his mother snapped “now eat and go back to bed I have to get to work”  she removed the small pot from the burner and brushed past him making her way to the front door.

“I’ll see you when I’m home from work and if you’re not feeling better we’ll take you to the doctor again maybe he can figure out what’s wrong with you.” With that she was gone and so was Steve’s childhood. At least, that’s what it felt like.

The next morning despite still feeling awful Steve got up, dug some cold medicine out of the cabinet and forced himself to school, telling his mom he felt good enough to go. Steve didn’t want to be a bother, he didn’t want to manipulate his parents into staying home from work. So after that when he got sick again, sick enough to warrant staying home from school Steve would tell his parents he was fine on his own and wave them off to work. His mom would always call at lunch to make sure he was okay, but eventually even that stopped. Eventually Steve stopped telling them he was sick at all. After all he didn’t want to be manipulative like his mom said he was. He didn’t want to trick them into caring about him.

And that was just the thing, when he was little his mom would tell him how much he was wanted. How she had wanted a baby for years and had almost given up when she finally got pregnant with Steve, her little miracle. His childhood had been a happy one, his father constantly had a camera out taking pictures for the photo books his mom painstakingly put together. It had been filled with birthday parties and t-ball games and his mother singing and dancing in the kitchen. Sure his parents were busy but they had made time for him. At least they used to, when he was still cute and little and his parents coworkers were still impressed by stories of his little league home run hits and pictures of his round baby face missing two front teeth.

Because that was the thing about babies. Eventually they stopped being small and cute. Eventually they grew up. Eventually their parents stopped caring.

Steve tried his best to get them to keep caring, he signed up for every sport he could fit into his schedule and for awhile that was enough. As long as he excelled at sports it was enough to keep his parents attention. Sure as he got older his parents were around less and less, but they still managed to make most of his games. But like everything else eventually even that wasn’t enough and by his sophomore year of high school Steve stopped caring if they were even there. Or at least he told himself he did.

Steve’s parents were barely home, his father constantly traveling for work after he received a promotion, his mother going along on the trips despite the work she would miss after Steve’s father had come back from a work trip with lipstick on his collar for the third time. It was fine though, his parents not coming to his games meant he didn’t have to listen to his father pick apart his swimming form, or nag at him about how “Alex Carver wouldn’t of missed that shot” despite the fact that Steve had scored most of the points that game and even though he missed his last shot they had still won by well over 20 points so what was the big deal?

School and his grades were a whole other battle. When he had started high school Steve tried his best to get straight A’s he really did. He couldn’t help that the words and numbers on his homework pages and the black board floated around, but he did his best to get his work done and correct anyways.

Steve worked as hard as he could going to the library in his free period, asking the teachers for help when he didn’t understand something (which was often but for the most part his teachers were patient with him, he was an up and coming star on both the basketball and swim teams after all) and ended his freshman year with B’s in all his classes except for history and gym both of which he had gotten an A in! He had been so proud of himself and thought his parent would be too. Instead Steve’s father had screamed at him over his B’s, told Steve “he couldn’t believe he was raising such an idiot”.

That was the last straw for Steve really. He tried as hard as he could and it was never enough. No matter what he did, he was too slow, too dumb, too manipulative for his parents to give a shit about him. And if his parents didn’t give a shit why should he?

Steve stopped trying so hard to keep his grades up, only doing the bare minimum to keep his grades high enough so he wouldn’t get kicked from the basketball or swim team. He started throwing parties every weekend, trying to bring some noise into the cold lifeless house his parents barely bothered to come home to anymore.

By the end of his Sophomore year Steve had cemented his title of “King”. Sure his parents didn’t give a shit but the other kids at school worshiped him now, he had teachers excusing assignments he didn’t bother doing because word around the school was Steve was going to be the next Captain of the Basketball team and he had already been made Co-Captain of the swim team despite only being a sophomore.  He was the King of Hawkins high, every guy wanted to be his friend, every girl was practically lining up to date him and Steve reveled in it, at least he did for a little while.

-

If you made it this far thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you guys think! My brain already has ideas for character studies for Argyle, Nancy and Jonathan that I was thinking of writing also.

[statticscribbles]

Stubborn

Summary: Mighty Ducks, Adam banks/Charlie conway, Adam gets sick and Charlie finds out what taking care of him entails

Charlie’s not surprised that Adam’s calling him on saturday. He silently curses Adam’s luck; of course he had to get sick over the weekend; it wasn’t the flu but a few other members of the team had had it and said whatever the bug was, was like a more intense cold, lots of coughing and sneezing and exhaustion but nothing much beyond that.

Charlies is a little excited to care for Adam; ever since they’d been dating Adam had been stubbornly refusing to accept pretty much any help; it felt like Charlie would have gotten farther pulling Adam’s teeth out with pliers that getting his boyfriend to admit he needed help. Unfortunately Charlie is quickly realizing that sentiment goes twice as hard when Adam is sick.

When Charlie arrives to the house, Adam has already attempted to take cough syrup; half the bottle is on the counter and half of that is being absorbed by a rag. There’s four slices of burnt toast, butter on some parts the rest mostly crumbs.

Charlie swears he can feel Adam complaining through the wall. He hasn’t even made it halfway to the pantry to get soup before Adam’s glare makes him shiver.

“I hate soup.”

“You should be on the couch.”

“I hate the couch.”

“I can go home then.”

“I hate being sick.” His voice sounds much worse on that and Charlie isn’t surprised that Adam can’t keep talking and instead is coughing.

“Everyone does Adam. Now, chicken soup or tomato?”

“Chicken, the noodles are the best… is that broth??”

“Yeah; you said you were feeling like you were going to puke so no solids; if you keep this down we swap it to tomato soup or maybe some toast.”

Adam manages to keep the broth down easily and within the next two hours he’s already asking Charlie about more food.

“So tomato soup? Maybe some toast?”

“Grilled cheese!”

“No.”

“Grill me a cheese!” He laughs a little and Charlie groans.

“We can watch Archer after you have soup, and toast. No grilled cheese.” Adam pouts the entire time that Charlie is heating up the soup but he does eat all of it and the toast without making any more joking comments about the grilled cheese. Charlie is happy to wrap Adam up in a blanket and put Archer on for both of them to enjoy.

Adam falls asleep after the second episode of the second season and Charlies debates pausing it but he decides it’s better to just switch to something else; the last thing he needs is a sick Adam getting worked

”Get back in bed.”

“I hate being alone.” Adam tries to be playful about it but an attack of sneezes makes it just come across as pathetic.

“You know this’ll get me sick right?” Charlie jokes back and Adam laughs a little nodding sleepily.

“Yeah; then I get to take care of you; make you shitty canned soup and watch bad tv.” Adam explains and Charlie nods, pulling up the blanket and tucking himself next to Adam.

Support My Writing?

[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet when their S/O is on their Period

I freaking love this HC idea, it's so flipping cute! Thank you so much for the ask @anditsmywholeheart ❤

Now of course every girl experiences this differently, so I'll keep it pretty general and soft~

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart @babydxll

Josh

Josh is a goofball by nature.

That wouldn't change just because of how his S/O body is revolting.

I can imagine him still making lots of jokes and wanting to be playful... but of course he's respectful.

If they aren't having any of that... you bet your ass he's straightening himself out.

An important note: Josh is an understanding dude. He'd get it if they happened to say something perhaps a little insensitive or to snap at him because of how they're feeling.

Its always forgotten as fast as its said.

If his S/O is in the mood though for his jokes, I can imagine a lot of silly faces and goofy conversations with the gentlest of cuddles.

Him playing with their hair as his rather idle chatter would take to the air. As always it's quick and about the most random of subjects.

"You know I read somewhere that cold things aren't good for periods..."

"That's an old wives tale Josh."

"Still... tea instead?" He'd ask clearly just wanting to care for them to the best of his ability.

"Tea."

Of course lots of soft humming and singing as he'd cuddle in closer to them as well.

I like to imagine Josh cuddled up in bed with his S/O

Their head cuddled into his neck as they listen to him read their favorite book aloud. He pausing periodically to chat a little with them about the chapter they just read over.

Any time they would show any discomfort he'd hug them close and give them soft kisses on their forehead.

“Bad cramps...?”

“Yeah...”

“Want me to grab your heating pad?”

Jake

Jake strikes me as man who would maybe keep more to his own if he knew his S/O is on their period.

Of course not in a "Stay away from that beast" way.

It's more of a he knows they probably need their space kind of way. They'll let me know if they need something.

This doesn't mean he isn't doting or just as affectionate as any of the other boys of course.

Jake would always be on the ball with snack and supplies runs, no matter the time.

"No its not a big deal! Don't worry about it at all! I can totally pick up some more pads."

"Well.... they were out of the ones you said so take all of these instead." *hands them a million other assorted products*

"The good news is that this other bag is full of the good shit."

There is so much binging on junk.

I can also picture Jake bundling his S/O up in comfy clothes and blankets.

Jake's S/O has full control of the TV when they are starting their period. They get to watch whatever they want and he's more than happy to watch with them.

I can picture him lightly rubbing their feet with furrowed brows, "what is even happening in this show?"

"She's becoming a witch!"

"....huh... I see."

I can picture him eventually sliding over and locking his arms around them so tightly, he giving small little kisses on their cheeks and neck.

"More donuts??"

Sam

Sam is an on the ball kind of guy.

“More muffins?”

He probably has a good idea when his S/O will be starting their period or at least some sort of estimate.

In preparation there is always going to be a collection of their favorite snacks. And anything they might need.

Whatever pain killers they take, whatever kinds of sanitary products they prefer.

This preparation has ulterior motives of course!

"We can't lose our cuddle time!"

*King of Don’t Get Up, I Got It*

Probably just keeps supplying liquor that he knows his S/O loves.

“Irish coffee?”

“It’s 3 am?”

“IRISH COFFEE?”

He would also take this chance to binge watch a movie series with them happily.

Sam probably also uses this time as an excuse to just get trashed, but that just makes him even more cuddly. 

“If you get to eat a whole tub of ice cream, I get to do shots.”

His S/O doesn’t need a heating pad or hot water bottle he’s warm enough as he’d be sprawled over top of them

They probably would pass out on the couch together.

Danny

I feel like I say this in every head-canon but God I truly believe that this man is just made to care for other people.

I feel like out of all of the boys, Danny is most likely to be the most... normal??? about his S/O being on their period. (Does that even make sense???)

They probably will end up both passed out on the couch.

When I say that, I just mean he would be so chill about literally everything!

As soon as the words, "I think I'm starting my period" would leave his S/O's lips he'd be on his way to go get some pain killers and a bottle of water.

Danny would encourage them to get comfy. That always included any of his clothes as well.

Actually it was preferred if they would throw on one of his sweatshirts.

It'd always be whatever his S/O wants or needs... but at the same time what's good for them as well.

He'd keep them balanced.

"Let's get ice cream then if that's what you want! But--- maybe can we eat a banana or something first?"

"Don't forget your water! Gotta stay hydrated!"

"Oh those pads are scented, let's just get rid of those---"

"You know that a hot shower will help, cmon."

Hot showers, snuggles, massages... Danny is there and ready for it all.

 “What do you think of tomato soup and grilled cheese for dinner? I’m cooking. You just stay right there~” 

All the cooking and cleaning is covered by him.

My favorite thing to picture for him is that he’s sitting out on the porch with his S/O, drinking tea, cuddling and watching the sunset.

All the while keeping his S/O wrapped up in a big blanket.

[starship-squidlet]

Once in a Blue Moon

(A Newsies 1950s Band AU)

Chapter summary: This chapter follows Scenes 6 and 7 of New Music directly! I’ll link them below. What happens with Finch, Mush, and Elaine after they leave Medda’s club.

Word count: 2,102

Disclaimer: New Music Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @chaotic-sunflower-galaxy @i-am-a-wizard @xbanner-carriedx (let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the tag list!)

A/N: ajnanvlkjwnfoaneowafa I am SO excited to finally be sharing this!!! Am I going to post most/all of it tonight? Probably. But it’ll be linked in my masterlist and I’ll schedule it to reblog over the next few days, so don’t worry about missing anything!!! I’m using the New Music disclaimer because this is set in the same universe (and in the middle of New Music anyways) anddd I’m too lazy to rewrite it.

A friendly reminder: This is a fic centering around a polyamorous relationship. If that’s not your thing, don’t read it! It’s that simple! I haven’t done the best job of representing it except for a particularly painful bit at the very end, but all three characters are also on the Ace spectrum. This is my personal HC, and, again, if you don’t like, don’t read.

Yes, the opening quote is from the Smurfs movie. That’s also where the title came from. Don’t @ me, it’s a cute movie 😂

Previous chapter: New Music Act 2, Scene 6 & Scene 7

Next chapter: Chapter 2

“‘Once in a blue moon.’

That means that there are only a few moments in your life when something truly memorable, truly magical, happens to you. And, if you hesitate, if you're afraid, you might just miss it. That's what that image means. Don't let those blue moon moments pass you by.”

Finch climbed into his truck and shut the door with a sigh. On the other side of the cab, Mush was sitting with his head resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, eyes closed. Elaine was in the middle of the bench seat, left foot on the seat and arms wrapped around her leg, chin resting on the edge of her knee. Her right foot hung just above the floor—she was the tiniest bit too short to actually reach the floor from the truck’s seat—her shoe unlaced to allow for the swelling in her ankle. The drive was nearly silent, which was practically unheard of between the three of them. When they pulled up in front of Elaine’s house, Mush finally lifted his head from the window. Finch turned off the engine and hopped out of the truck; by the time he got around to the other side of the truck, Mush was already out and offering Elaine a hand down. When she climbed down and tried to put weight on her sprained ankle, she lost her balance and fell into the door before either of the boys could catch her.

“C’mere,” said Finch, offering her his arm. She let him lift her up bridal-style and carry her to the door of the house. Mush grabbed her school bag, shut the door to the truck, and followed them up the stairs to the stoop of the house.

“Key’s in the outside pocket of my bag,” Elaine said, pointing vaguely. Mush fished out the key and opened the door for the other two.

“Is it okay if we come in?” Finch asked, already halfway through the door.

“Yeah, Madison and my dad are gone for the week, with the babies,” Elaine said. “Alan and Alden are the only people around.”

Mush closed the door once they were all inside and followed Finch and Elaine through the house into the kitchen, where Finch set Elaine down on the counter and pushed Mush down into a chair at the kitchen table.

“Towels?” he asked Elaine.

“Um… that drawer,” she pointed.

Finch pulled out a handful of towels, grabbed the ice trays from the freezer, and filled a pair of towels with ice, then bundled up the ice with an extra towel and handed one of the little packs to Elaine and one to Mush. He dragged another chair over to Elaine so she could prop her foot up on the back of it to rest the ice pack on her swollen ankle. “Is that okay?”

She nodded. “The ice feels good.”

“Do you have any aspirin around here?” Finch asked, filling the ice trays with water and putting them back in the freezer

“Uh, yeah, upstairs, in the bathroom next to Alan and Alden’s room.”

“I’ll be back.” Finch headed for the back stairs.

“Hey, if the boys are up, let them know we’re down here,” said Elaine.

Finch nodded. Upstairs, he kept as quiet as he could in the hall heading for the bathroom. There was a light on under the door of the boys’ room, but he slipped into the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet before returning to the door. He knocked softly on it, and entered when he heard someone call “come in” from inside.

Alan turned around at his desk and seemed surprised to see Finch standing in the doorway. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“I brought Elaine home. She and Mush are down in the kitchen.”

Alan glanced at his watch. “It’s early for rehearsal to be over.”

“Yeah, uh… rehearsal didn’t really happen today.”

Alan arched an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

Finch sighed. “There was a little bit of a dustup with the Delancey twins. They jumped Crutchie, Cora, and Elaine on their way to rehearsal.”

“Is Elaine okay?” Alan was on his feet and moving towards the door in the blink of an eye.

“Sprained ankle and a scrape up her arm, but she’s fine,” said Finch. “Actually, do you have stuff to clean out her arm? I came up for aspirin, but I want to do that too.”

“Sure; I’ll grab it,” said Alan.

Finch nodded and headed back towards the stairs, taking a slight detour into Elaine’s room to grab her a clean shirt. Back down in the kitchen, he passed the shirt to Elaine. By the time Alan came down the stairs a few moments later, carrying cotton balls, gauze, tape, and peroxide, she had eased off her ripped sweater and pulled on the new shirt—a soft cotton t-shirt with short sleeves that left the still-bleeding scrape uncovered. The sweater went straight into the trash, and she stared mournfully down at her ripped and bloodstained skirt as Finch gently took her arm and began pulling debris out of the wound. Alan handed him a pair of tweezers, which he used to help with the process. Mush had his head down on the table, arms supporting his head so that his nose could rest on the ice pack.

“Guess I’ll make some dinner,” said Alan. “Alden will be home soon. You two staying to eat?”

“Sure,” Finch shrugged. “I’ll call my mom when I’m done.”

Elaine winced away from Finch’s hands and the tweezers. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” said Finch.

Alan pulled out a loaf of bread, a packet of cheese, and a few cans of tomato soup and got to work making grilled cheese sandwiches for each of them. At some point, they heard the front door open and Alden yelled, “I’m home!”

“Kitchen!” Alan called back.

Alden burst into the kitchen, a happy little ball of energy, but his face fell when he saw Elaine and Mush. “Whoa, what happened to you guys?”

“Just some bullies from school,” Elaine sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You hungry, buddy, or did you eat at Les’s?” Alan asked.

“We had a snack when we got there, but now I’m hungry,” said Alden.

“Grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup?”

“Yummy!” Alden grinned.

“Sit down at the table; you can have the next one.”

After dinner, Alan took Alden upstairs to get a bath, leaving Elaine, Finch, and Mush alone downstairs. Finch washed the dishes for dinner, shooing the others into the family room to ice their injuries again. Mush sank down on the couch, and Elaine curled up against him, ankle propped on a pillow on the coffee table with the ice pack on top of it. Mush held his ice pack on his face for a little while, but soon gave up and leaned forward to position both of the packs around Elaine’s ankle. She giggled slightly as he fussed with them.

“Cold,” she mumbled.

Mush laughed. “Well, it is ice.”

“No, me,” Elaine grumbled.

Mush smiled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Better?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

By the time Finch joined them, Mush was asleep, head back against the back of the couch. Elaine was nodding off, her eyes drifting shut and then snapping open as she struggled to stay awake. “Hey,” Finch whispered, settling onto the couch next to Elaine and slipping his arm around her waist. He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “How’s the ankle?”

“Icy,” Elaine yawned.

“Oh, yeah, it’s probably about time to take those off,” Finch chuckled. He grabbed the ice packs and took them into the kitchen to deposit the melting ice into the sink and drape the damp towels over the backs of the chairs before returning to the couch. Once he was settled, Elaine shifted to lean her head against his chest and sighed. Finch rested his cheek against the top of her head and smiled to himself.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want,” Elaine murmured. “There’s another couch in the living room.”

“I promised my mom I’d be home tonight,” Finch sighed. “But I’ll see you at school tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know,” Elaine sighed. “It depends how my ankle feels. Madison isn’t here to question me skipping, either, so we’ll see.”

Finch nodded and hugged her a little closer. “I’ll come by after school to see how you’re doing.” He looked at Mush over Elaine’s head, the other boy still sound asleep. “Keep an eye on him, will you?”

“Yeah,” Elaine smiled. “Should we call his dad?”

“He won’t be home until late, and probably won’t notice if Mush isn’t there anyways. He stays over at my house often enough anyways. Levi will probably just assume that’s where he is. Mush can call him in the mornin’; that’s the most likely time to get him anyways.”

Elaine nodded. “Okay. How much longer can you stay?”

Finch glanced at the clock over the mantle. “Thirty minutes? My mom doesn’t like me drivin’ too late.”

“Okay,” Elaine nodded sleepily, slipping her arms around Finch’s waist.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Mush woke up shortly after Finch left, when Elaine came back into the family room with an armful of pillows and blankets. “Hey,” Elaine said softly, wincing as she stepped on her sprained ankle a little too heavily. She sat on the edge of the coffee table and smiled at him. “Finch went home. You’re staying here tonight.”

Mush nodded sleepily. “Okay.”

Elaine smiled and reached out to brush a hand over his cheek. “I brought you a pillow and some blankets. You can sleep down here. Or if you can’t sleep, you can come upstairs; I’m pretty sure my ankle hurts too much for me to sleep anyways.”

Mush nodded again, offering her a small smile. “Thanks.”

“The aspirin is still in the kitchen, too, if you need it again. I can bring you a glass of water before I go up, if you want.”

“No, I can get it; you shouldn’t walk too much on your ankle.”

Elaine shrugged. “A few extra steps won’t kill me. But thanks. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

She had just climbed into the bed, resigned to stare at the ceiling as her ankle throbbed, when there was a soft knock on her door. She sat up and called out softly: “Come in.”

Mush pushed the door open, looking sheepish. “Sorry. My face really hurts and I couldn't settle downstairs.”

Elaine smiled and scooted over to the far side of the bed, then patted the spot next to her. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Mush seemed a little hesitant, but slipped under the blankets and laid down facing her. Elaine yawned. “Are you warm enough? There’s another blanket at the end of the bed if you’re cold.”

“I’m fine. You?”

Elaine shrugged. “I’m fine.”

They were quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” Elaine said finally.

“For what?”

“For earlier. For… in the alley. With the Delanceys. Thank you.”

“It was nothin’.”

Elaine snorted. “It wasn’t nothing. They’re scary guys. And if you guys hadn’t shown up when you did…”

“Don’t think about it,” said Mush. “It doesn’t matter. We got there, we finished it, end of story.”

Elaine nodded. “How did you guys even know we needed help?”

“Finch and Buttons were havin’ issues with some of the equipment, so while they were sorting it out we went with Race because he wanted to pick up a pack of cigarettes, and we heard you screamin’. We didn’t realize who it was, but when Race saw Cora’s bag on the sidewalk, he took off and the rest of us followed.”

Elaine smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see anyone in my life than when I saw you running towards Morris Delancey.”

Mush let out a short laugh. “I’m pretty sure if I’d thought about it, I would have done it differently, but the second I saw you two at the other end of that alley… I don’t know. It was like I stopped thinkin’ and just ran.”

Elaine reached out and took his hand. “I’m glad you did. Well—maybe not entirely, since you did end up with a broken nose out of it, so I’m sorry for that. But thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“Any time,” Mush smiled.

“Well, hopefully I won’t need you to come running in like that ever again,” Elaine laughed. “But, just in case I do, it’s kind of nice to know that you have my back.”

Mush gave her hand a squeeze and nodded.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

comfort crowd chris motionless x reader

+++++++++ This is officially the longest one shot I've ever written at just over 2400 words. Yikes. it doesnt feel that long i promise. I needed this off my chest though. This is the one I was struggling to write and needed ideas for the other day but I kind of figured it out.

Prompt: depression strikes at the worst times. It can take so much from a person but that doesn't mean you have to do it alone. - Chris comes to help y/n out, giving their meds, bathing them, feeding them, making sure they don't hurt themselves 💕 - comfort fic

Song: you will be found from dear evan Hansen

tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @ryansitkowskiswifey @alilpunkrock @theoneandonlykymberlee +++++++++

I laid in the middle of my floor and stared at the ceiling. I hadn't moved in almost three hours. My thoughts were empty and I couldn't bring myself to move. Better yet I hadn't left my bedroom in a week, maybe long enough to go to the bathroom but that was about it. I slept all day, stared at the ceiling all night and repeated that for days on end. It was currently ten at night but I only knew that cause I could see the reflection of my alarm clock in the mirror across from my bed. My phone buzzed but I couldn't bring myself to look at it, it had been the same for the last couple days too. I hadn't showered, I hadn't done laundry, and I'd barely eaten or drank anything. I didn't wanna say it was the depression cause that meant giving in but I knew it really was. I heard my front door unlock and click open but didn't pay too much mind to it.

"Y/n?"

I heard him call. I didn't answer. My voice was too tired.

"Y/n?"

I heard him come closer. Then my bedroom door clicked open and in stepped Chris. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God your okay."

I just stared up at him.

"Are you okay?"

He asked but I still didn't answer. My gaze followed him as he knelt down next to me.

"Are you going through another episode?"

I nodded slowly and he sighed.

"Okay, let's get you out of here then."

I nodded again before he slid his arms under me and picked me up bridal style. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders loosley as he walked me out to the living room. He sat me gently on the couch before wrapping the blanket I kept on the back of it around my body.

"Have you eaten?"

I shook my head no.

"Okay, don't go anywhere."

I sent him a look. As if I'd actually move on my own.

"I know I know."

He defended. I dropped my head back against the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen. It felt like mere minutes before be came back with soup and grilled cheese but I guess time feels different when you dissociate. I stared at him as he set it down on the coffee table in front of me.

"Are you gonna sit up and eat that or do I have to force feed you like last time?"

I sent him a warning glare as he sat next to me. He held his hands up.

"Hey, it's your choice."

I looked down at the food and felt sick. I didn't want it. I didn't want to pick it up and actually put it in my body. He stared at me as he waited for me to do something. Then I looked back at him and shook my head no, tightening my arms around my waist. He sighed.

"Force feeding it is then."

I shook my head violently as he picked the sandwich up.

"Come on y/n, you have to put something in your body. I don't wanna show up in a day or two and have to take you back to the hospital. Have you at least been taking your medicine?"

I looked a little ashamed. I hadn't.

"Well we'll have to get that in you too, it doesn't work if you don't take it."

He pushed the sandwich towards my mouth but I didn't budge.

"Please?"

He asked with pleading eyes. I blinked slowly at him. He sighed again before bringing his other hand up and holding my nose closed. I held my breath as long as I could, my face getting redder. Then I couldn't hold it anymore and opened my mouth to let the air in, as well as the sandwich he was holding.

"Bite."

He said in a demanding tone and I rolled my eyes at him, doing as told.

"Thank you."

He said, pulling it away so I could eat that bite. When it was gone he put the sandwich back to my face and I actually took a bite willingly. We carried on like that until it and the soup was gone, fighting back and forth. When it was gone he took the dishes to the kitchen and didn't come back for a while. I closed my eyes and slowly faded into sleep. When I woke up again Chris had just walked back into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel.

"I did your dishes and went through your fridge. There was a lot of stuff that was bad so tossed it."

I yawned and nodded.

"Still no voice?"

He asked but I didn't respond, didn't even nod, just blinked at him.

"When was the last time you had a shower?"

I thought for a second before offering a weak shoulder shrug. He nodded once.

"So we're doing that today too?"

I sighed.

"I know you don't really like it but you need to be clean, it's a step in the right direction. And you know you always feel a little better after."

I hummed in response.

"I'll start your laundry after I run the bath. I'll be right back."

I nervously scratched at my arm under the blanket and I watched him walk away. It was a bad habit I had picked up over the last few episodes. If I felt like I couldn't or didn't want to do something I'd try to forget about it by scratching at my arm. It wasn't always in the same spot and I had a few scars from it. Chris knew that, he had taken care of me so many times this was routine for us. If I didn't answer his calls for a few days hed come over and take care of me, or at least make sure I was taking care of my self at the bare minimum. When I heard the Washing machine start i listened for him to come back and he did, just like always. He had a towel in his hand.

"You walking in there or am I undressing you here and carrying you?"

I stared up at him for a second and he just waited. After about a minute he dropped the towel to the couch.

"Here it is."

He said before kneeling in front of me, pulling the blanket off. I stared at the wall as I kept scratching and he held my hand, making me stop. I knew I probably scratched too far, my finger nails burned just as much as my arm did. I saw him shake his head and I looked down at him.

"You know you aren't supposed to do that."

Then I looked down at my arm and saw the small traces of blood. He looked up at me and frowned before pushing my shirt up.

"Arms up?"

He asked but I couldn't. I just let them fall to my sides.

"Okay, one at a time it is. This one really is bad isn't it?"

I groaned before he lifted my shirt up off each arm and over my head.

"One done, a few more to go."

He offered a smile before moving to my pants. They were just sweats but still. He pulled them down a little before I lifted my hips off the couch for him to take them.

"Thank you."

He said as he dropped them on the couch with my shirt. I just sat against the couch, limp.

"Underwear is next. You still have a chance to walk in there instead."

I shook my head slowly.

"Okay, then here we go."

He reached around me and undid my bra, dropping it to the pile. He then unfolded the towel and placed it over my chest, tucking it under my arm pits. Then he pulled at my panties, pushing them down, me lifting off the couch long enough to slide them off. I moved my arms as he moved the towel to wrap completely around me.

"You ready?"

I shrugged.

"Okay."

he slid his arm under my legs and picked me up again, walking me to the bathroom and slowly lowering me into the bath, sliding the towel to the floor before it got wet. There were already some bubbles in the tub but not too many. he had learned last time that it's easier to put some soap in the water first in case I fight him while he's trying to scrub me down.

"Head first or body first?"

I held my arm out of the water so the scratches wouldn't start to burn. He reached over and turned my head to look at him.

"Do you have a preference or are we just going in?"

I looked up.

"Head first it is."

He grabbed the cup off the side of the tub and filled it with water before leaning me back and letting it run over my hair. I sighed at the feeling as he did it again, making sure my whole head was wet. Then I watched as he grabbed the shampoo, leaning into him as he lathered it on my head.

"Feeling better?"

He asked as he turned to look at my face. He kept working his fingers into my scalp as I nodded. When he was done he dipped his hands into the water before getting the cup and rinsing my head off.

"Body next?"

He asked as he reached for my loofa but I stopped him.

"You wanna do it?"

I nodded slowly before taking it and letting him put the soap on it. He sat back on his knees as I dipped it into the water and began rubbing it over my body slowly. When I was almost done he sat back up.

"Want me to get your back?"

I nodded and handed it to him, feeling him push my hair over my shoulder and sighing as he began rubbing my back. I closed my eyes and dropped my arms into the bath, hissing as the water hit my scratches and immediately pulling my arm out of the water and splashing chris.

"Hey!"

He said backing away from me and I just pouted.

"I told you not to scratch, you know better."

I crossed my arms over my chest and sat back, scooting further into the water; hiding from his words as well as rinsing myself off. He sighed and shook his head as he rinsed the puff.

"Are we done?"

He asked with a raised brow and i continued pouting.

"Don't make me drag you out of the tub."

I glared at him and sat up, watching him pull the plug to drain the water and grab the towel. He started by drying my hair off, rubbing it over my head. I groaned angrily at him and he pulled the towel away.

"What now?"

I just huffed and turned my attention to the tub wall. He rolled his eyes at me. Yes it was childish but he pulled my hair. He wrapped the towel around my shoulders and started drying my body. When I was dry he wrapped the towel around my body and picked me up out of the tub. My arms were still crossed over my chest but I was slowly letting go, loosening my grip on myself. He walked into my room and sat me gently on the edge of the bed.

"Pajamas or lounge clothes?"

He turned to me as he stood at the entrance to my closet and I shrugged.

"Flowy dress?"

He asked and I smiled for the first time all day, nodding my head. He knew that always made me feel better too, it was hard to be mad in a dress that made you feel like a princess. He smiled back at me.

"Flowy dress it is."

He flipped through my closet until he found a purple one and pulled it out.

"This one comfy enough?"

I nodded and he walked to me, taking it off the hanger.

"Arms up?"

I uncrossed them and did as told, allowing him to slip the dress onto my body, letting the towel fall to the bed under me.

"Do we want matching bottoms?"

He asked pulling open my underwear drawer. God he had been in there way too many times to count. At this point he probably knew my wardrobe better than I did. I shrugged. He thought for a second and rummaged around in the drawer, pulling out panties that were almost the same color as the dress.

"How about these?"

I nodded. I looked down at him as he knelt down, helping me slide my legs in each hole. He got to my knees and placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me as I stood slowly, legs wobbling like a baby giraffe. He sat up a little bit, pushing his shoulders up into my hands. I used him to keep me steady as he pulled them up my legs the rest of the way until they were comfortably on my hips. He slipped his hands out from under my dress and held my hips to keep my steady.

"Can you stand alone?"

I took in a deep breath and nodded a little unsure. My body was so weak from not eating for the last five days. I watched him stand up and feel forward into him. He snaked his arms around my waist and picked me up bridal style again. I breathed heavily.

"It's okay, I've got you. I'm not letting go."

He held me tightly to his chest and I snaked my arms around his shoulders, hugging him. He walked is back out into the living room and sat down on the couch, keeping me in his lap.

"Are we feeling better now?"

I blinked slowly at him and nodded. He rubbed my back gently. I wanted to sleep again, by now it had to have been well into the early morning.

"Do you wanna go to sleep?"

I nodded.

"Are you fine staying here? Your clothes should be done soon, I was gonna wash your bedding."

I nodded again. He kissed my temple.

"Okay."

I could feel him move and clutched onto him tighter. I didn't want him to leave.

"It can wait."

He said gently, pressing his forehead into mine. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

"Thank you."

I croaked out, barely audible. My throat was sore just from trying and my mouth was dry. I hadnt spoken in over a week. He hugged me tighter to him.

"I'll always be here for you."

I nodded against him.

"You never have to be alone."

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Six

Bucky walks into the shop quietly, watching you set up a new display in the window. Some seasonally appropriate artwork. Paintings and hand made pots. Books on how to do those things. Antique books from the 40′s it looks like. He’s afraid to disturb you. Afraid to ruin whatever fragile peace of mind you might be finding doing this.

You look like you did in Elementary school when the teacher handed you your worksheet. Content. Focused. To be honest, he’s a little surprised he didn’t recognize you. But then, you had glasses now. And your hair was darker. He just lets you have this for a second. Lets himself have this. “I’ll be with you in just one second,” you say, reaching up to adjust a book so it sits just so on your display.

“Take your time, Doll,” Bucky says softly.

“Bucky,” you say turning around, startled. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, about to say something and Bucky can’t help it. He just can’t.

He crosses the floor to you and cradles you against him gently, one hand tangling in your hair and the other hovering on the small of your back. First feathering a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and then your lips.

He has to do this. He has to kiss you the way you should be kissed. Not some sloppy drunk mess that leaves you wanting. The way your first kiss had been.

When you didn't pull away and slap him, he presses a little harder, nipping your lip gently to open your mouth and brush his tongue against yours in a soft caress. It takes serious discipline not to pick you up and set you on the counter. Not to throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and carry you off to claim you on the first soft surface he can find. He hadn’t planned this. But when you pull away, looking up at him blushing and surprised, he can’t say he minds.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping some of your smudged lip color with his thumb, “I’m a sucker for red lipstick.”

“I- what about- I mean that woman- what’s going on?” you say, confused. Dazed. It’s been an emotionally trying few days. Weeks. Okay, really, you think, it’s been years but whose counting. And now Bucky Fucking Barnes of all people is kissing you. And looking at you like he loves you. And he’s sober. 

“Look, Y/N,” Bucky said blushing, “Char and I aren’t- I mean. She’s my fuck buddy. We’re not dating. Never were. And I just... If that kid is mine we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I doubt it is. Or that she’s even really pregnant given that I just found some dude balls deep in her, unwrapped... I’m sorry.”

He brushes hair behind your ear tenderly and takes a deep breath.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been half in love with you. I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole. That I hurt you this bad. That I had to act all hard instead of just admitting that I love you because loving you would mean I was... I dunno. A whimp or something.”

You look away and he tilts your chin up, “I know 20 years is a long time to be stupid but, baby, please. All I need is one chance.”

“But- Kaity,” you protest.

“Kaity walked into my shop at 9am and informed me I better get my shit together because she has two months to live and no fear of jail,” Bucky snorted fondly. 

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth to try and stifle a giggle in spite of yourself. In spite of being about to cry.

Bucky pulls you close slowly and kisses the top of your head, “Just one chance,” he pleaded, kissing your nose again when you look up at him. 

“One,” you allow, exhaling slowly. “But only if you kiss me again.”

He needs no second order. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs against your lips, claiming the second kiss he’d been waiting for for years. Relishing the feel of your arms winding around him and the feel of you pulling him closer. A silent request for just a little more. There are desperation and longing. in the way you touch him. A need Bucky understands. A need to be distracted. To drown out all the demons screaming in his head. He’s happy to oblige, to give you that moment.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asks, a little breathless when he comes up for air.

“I can’t,” you murmur, “Hospice is coming to get set up tonight. We’re moving a couple rooms around.” You swallow hard and Bucky feels his heart drop.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “Is there anything I can do?”

You shake your head, “I just really need a nap. Maybe a cookie. But I’ll be okay.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well I can get you both those things, doll.”

You smile a little, “I can’t sleep. I haven’t really been able to since I moved home... Any time I start to sleep too well I jerk back awake. Afraid- afraid something might happen and I won’t wake up.”

“Even here if I tuck you in on the couch?” he asked, concerned. 

You nod, “I freak out because I might not hear my phone.”

“I can feed you a cookie,” he coaxes, “Get you a coffee too. Some soup. Anything you want. I’ll run the front and you just go lie down for a little bit. Even if you don’t sleep. Read a book. Look up someplace we can go paint a plate or something... just rest a little.”

“But-”

“Go on,” he said shooing you gently, “I’ll put the order in. I can handle this for you. You need to rest. Kaity is gonna need you well-rested, isn’t she?” 

“My bank card is-”

“No,” Bucky said, letting a little of his Sargeant's voice creep in. Not a lot, but enough to make you stop. Just stop and let him do this. Let him give you some comfort. A little TLC. “I told you to go lay down,” he murmured softly, “I don’t want your card. I want you to do what I said, understand, baby girl? I only get one shot. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He kisses your nose again tenderly and gently turns you towards the back, calling the cafe next door to order you soup, a cookie, and a hot chocolate and a sandwich. You need fuel and you need rest. Maybe if he can get you cozy for a while he can give you that. He can watch the shop and listen to your phone for a few hours if it means you get some sleep.

When food arrives, you're on the velvet fainting couch, covered up in a throw blanket. Still awake. Very much away looking anxious and pale, shivering. Bucky feels a stab of pain for you and carries things back gently, “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained, setting food out. A grilled cheese, some tomato soup, the biggest cookie he could order, and a hot chocolate. “And it’s fucking miserable outside, thought this might help.”

You put up the cup of hot chocolate and Bucky notices your hands trembling. “Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip.

Bucky takes a bite of his own sandwich and nods. For the next 20 or so minutes, there’s not a lot of talking as you’re eating. Bucky is subtly pushing as much on you as he can, figuring a full stomach will put you to sleep for a while. He’s not disappointed when you protest that you can’t eat anymore, he just kisses the side of your head and tucks your blanket around you more firmly, trusting some warm soup and the shitty weather to knock you out. Hell, it usually knocked him out. 

He sits with you for a while, idly rubbing the little bare feet in his lap, half-listening to the front of the shop in case someone walks in, half-listening for your breathing to indicate sleep. Once you doze off, he tucks your feet in gently and pads his way to the front of the shop to sit and wait. It’s a nice few hours, watching the snow and ringing a few people out. Carefully wrapping a piece of artwork for a customer. Playing games on his phone. 

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind being bored. Or sober. It’s for a good cause, he decides. And he hates the idea that he could kiss you and not remember it. Not when the way you responded to him was just so pretty. At closing time, when you come back up front, rosy-cheeked with sleep and rubbing your eyes, glasses in hand, he smiles softly.

“Good sleep?” he asked, pulling you onto his knee while you get your bearings.

You yawn, nodding and he rubs your stomach affectionately, “Warm soup belly,” he explained, “works every time. Not sure why it works but a warm, full belly will knock out insomnia pretty well.”

You make a soft sleepy noise and stretch, slowly remembering how to wake up, “I’ll defer to your expertise. I don’t think I ever sleep that good,” you tell him.

He tuts softly, “Well,” he said, “I got a few other remedies if you ever need me to knock you out again.” 

“Oh?” you ask putting your glasses on.

“They’re just not things you do with clothes on, doll,” he teased.

You blush and turn to lock down the register and put money in the bank bag. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“Y/N,” Bucky murmured, “Have you not ever?”

You shake your head, “I didn’t want anyone to see me,” you murmured, “I scarred myself up pretty bad over the years. I just. I dunno. After the first guy I dated freaked out about my wrists I just couldn’t.”

“I’ve seen your wrists,” he reminded gently, wrapping his arms around you gently and kissing your shoulder, “And I run around with bikers. Scars don’t scare me, baby. Not even the scary ones.”

You nod and take a shaky breath, “No,” he said softly, “There’s no pressure. Not one bit. Okay? I’m not gonna lie to you. I’d love to take you home, right now, and love you until you can’t walk. But this isn’t about me, okay?”

When you’re quiet, he tilts your chin up gently, “Okay, baby girl?” he presses gently. “Okay,” you answer quietly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, watching you get everything ready to go and closing down before walking you patiently to your car.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently kissing your hand, dimly aware that he’s used more pet names for you in a few hours than he’s ever used for anyone, “you need anything, you call me? Okay? I don’t care what it is.”

“What if I just want you to bring me a teddy bear?” you say, smiling a little.

“Anything,” he repeats gently, “I’m gonna take care of my girl, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” you tell him softly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Put the others in your phone too okay? If you can’t get a hold of me I want you to be able to get someone. They’ll find me.”

You nod and he shuts your car door firmly, stepping back so you can pull out of your space and avoid his toes. He waves as you drive away and watches you stop at the light. It’s still snowing and he makes a note to make sure he cleans your side walk and his mom’s tomorrow. You have enough issues without worrying about that. 

________

By the time you get home, Kaity is installed in her hospital bed and you come to sit with her, snuggling close and tucking a comforter around you both.

“I can’t believe you threatened to fucking shoot her,” you scold, “Or that Aunt Judy fucking told on me. THEN LET YOU DO IT!”

Kaity shrugged, pushing play on the remote. “You’re our baby,” Kaity said snuggling you and coaxing Salem closer. “Mama didn’t just take you in for fun, She loves you. And you’re my doll baby, remember?”

“You never let me forget it,” you murmur, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“You were so tiny when they brought you home,” she said, “I asked daddy if you needed batteries. You didn’t even look real.” She smiles, “I called you Dolly forever.”

“You still do sometimes, Cat-cat,” you tell her, adjusting yourself to sit cross-legged and start trimming her nails.

“You only call me Cat- cat anymore when you don’t want me to worry,” she said suspiciously, “What else happened today?”

“Nothing,” you tell her, keeping your eyes down, focused on your nails.

“So why’d Nat text me and tell me that Bucky was watching the shop for you?” she pressed.

“Because he brought me lunch and I fell asleep on the couch in the back,” you answer, keeping your voice as level as possible. 

“If that’s all that happened why’d Bucky tell Nat he kissed you?” she said, chucking you under the chin with her free hand. 

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you tell her, looking down again and adjusting your glasses before starting work on her other hand.

“Y/N,” she said softly, “The only thing I want is for you not to be alone.”

“I'm okay on my own, Kaity,” you murmur.

“But you deserve so much more, Dolly,” she said softly. “You’re magic and champagne at midnight. Why are you settling for warm Natty light and a hot dog?”

“I’m just some trailer trash that can paint, Kaity. That’s all. I don’t have to take up space to do that.”

“Bucky doesn’t think so. I don’t think so. Mama and Daddy don’t think so. Grandma didn’t either. Bubbles, please,” Kaity said taking a deep breath, “I already talked about it with Mama and Daddy. I want to leave you the Shop. And Grandma’s house, since she wanted it to go to the oldest and that won’t be me anymore. Do me one favor?”

You take a deep breath and nod. You don’t want to talk about this but the hospital bed and the Hospice Nurse coming in in the morning made it impossible. 

“Take care of mama and daddy for me?” she said softly, “Make sure they don’t follow me too fast.”

You wipe away tears for her gently and nod, making her smile a little, “At least I know they’ll have you. That the shop’s in good hands. Even if you are a shit and won’t let me pay you.”

“I don’t need much Kaity. Just a place to sleep and some cat food.”

“And a biker to keep you warm,” Kaity teased, making your cheeks color.

“No,” Kaity said giggling, “It’s great. One of us needs to get laid soon or it won’t be the cancer that kills me. It’ll be all the fucking sexual frustration. Was he at least a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, cheeks burning, making Kaity laugh.

“Whatever it is,” Aunt Judy said backing through the door, “I don’t want to know.”

She took a seat in a chair and arranged a dinner tray for Kaity, kissing you both fondly on the head, taking in your blushing cheeks, “I definitely don’t want to know.”

Tags: @lancsnerd @stevieang @etherealwaifgoddess @blameitonthecauseway @thorfanficwriter

[pennylanefics]

Sick and Clingy - Taron Egerton

a/n: this is a result of me needing to release my feels for Taron 😂 my first imagine about him, hope you enjoy!!

•••

This morning, Taron woke up with a cold. Thankfully, he is in between projects, so he has a lot of time to rest and relax before he has to leave again. Rocketman has just been released, and promo interviews, premieres, parties, everything was over now. Except for the last meetings that were scheduled to talk about the world’s reactions and reviews about the film. He has been home the past couple of days, but those days of course consisted of said meetings.

But today, he had nothing planned. He promised to spend all day laying around with you, watching movies, making love, cuddling close to each other, eating take out. That all went out the window when he slept in, missing both breakfast and lunch. You had made pancakes and bacon for breakfast, but was saddened when Taron didn’t join you. You brushed it off, knowing he’s been under a lot of stress and pressure due to the release of Rocketman.

You started to grow worried when he was still sleeping at twelve forty-five in the afternoon. So, you made him some tea and brought it up to your shared room. When you stepped inside, you noticed he wasn’t in bed anymore. Your eyebrows furrowed, but you relaxed when you heard the toilet in the bathroom flush. Sitting on the bed, you waited for him to return, but the door stayed shut.

Sighing quietly, you stand and make your way over to the door, knocking quietly.

“Taron? Are you alright?” You ask your boyfriend. Still, no response from him, but there is a sound of gagging. You immediately know what’s wrong and throw the door open. There, Taron is sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, leaning over into the seat, throwing up.

“Baby,” you whisper, taking a seat next to his shaking body and rubbing his back soothingly. He doesn’t look up from the bowl, instead lets out a soft cry.

“Love, get out. This is disgusting,” he groans as another wave of nausea hits him, his body jerking forward as he releases the very little contents of his stomach.

“Are you okay? Well, obviously you aren’t, but what’s wrong? Is it jetlag? Did you eat something? A hangover?” He shakes his head at every one of your suggestions. You are now confused as to why he is randomly throwing up.

“I feel awful. Everything hurts, my head, my body, my throat, I feel cold. I just wanna sleep. I know we had a lazy day planned today, but I don’t even think I can focus on a movie.” You continue to rub Taron’s back as he continues to get sick.

“It’s alright, Taron. I don’t mind. I want you to feel better, and if that means sleeping all day, then I’m happy to do so,” you tell him. He shakes his head again and turns slightly towards you.

“I don’t want you around me today. I don’t want you to get sick, love,” he says. You chuckle and run your hand through his tousled hair.

“That’s not gonna happen, bub. I’m not leaving you alone. I will go to the store and get you some medicine and some things to make you feel better, but if you think that I’m going to stay in the living room while you’re in our room, in pain and sick. I may get whatever you have, but I don’t care. I want to take care of you,” you say to him quietly.

His body lurches forward once more before he flushes the toilet again. He finally sits away and leans against you. You press the back of your hand against his forehead and quietly gasp at how warm he is.

“Taron, you’re burning up!” He groans and closes his eyes, cuddling closer into you.

“I wanna lay back down,” he whimpers, a few tears falling from his eyes.

“Are you done?” You ask, referring to him getting sick.

“I think so.” You help him stand up and brush his teeth, well, you let him lean against you for support, considering how weak he felt. Once he was done, he slowly trudged back to bed and crawled under the covers.

“I’m going to the store to get some medicine and soup. I’ll be back in half an hour or so, yeah?” He nods and huddles under the comforter.

“You can’t be bundling up like that, Taron. You’re going to make your fever worse. I know you’re cold, but you need to break your fever.” He moans loudly and complains about your request.

“Just hurry please?” You nod and press a soft kiss to his forehead, gathering your purse and leaving for the store.

—

You returned at the time you said you would, it took you about half an hour to shop for what you needed for Taron. You got him a can of his favorite soup to eat when he didn’t feel good, a box of tea he drinks when his throat hurts, some medicine, and a few snacks he likes, just so he can have something light to eat if he wasn’t going to eat a full meal.

You walked through the door quietly and saw him sitting on the couch. Your eyebrows furrowed, remembering he didn’t want to move from your bed, but you walked over to him.

“I thought you were staying in bed all day?” You ask, sitting next to him. You bring your hand up to his forehead and feel that he is still warm, although much less than he was before you left.

“I did. But I got lonely because your pillow smells like you,” he explains in a strained voice. Your heart soars and melts at his words; he always gets very clingy and needy when he is sick, but you don’t mind.

“Well, do you want me to make you some soup and tea?” You ask, holding up the bag. He nods and reaches for it, wanting to see what you got.

“Take some medicine now, and you should feel better in a while.” He does so, opening the box and pouring the correct amount of liquid in the tiny bottle. You walk into the kitchen and pull out a pot to begin making the soup. Taron continued to watch some show that played on the TV, cuddled up under a blanket.

“Okay, here’s your soup, and let me go get your tea,” you say as you walk into the living room with a steaming bowl of soup. You set it on the coffee table and help Taron sit up to eat it. You quickly run back and get his cup of tea, returning with it in a second.

“Thank you, darling. I appreciate it,” Taron thanks you as you take a seat next to him.

“No problem, Taron. I’d do anything for you, you know that.” He smiles and begins to eat his food. You can tell he feels better, but he still looks sickly. As he slowly eats, you two converse quietly about the show that’s on.

“Can we go lay down, love?” Taron asks, leaning against your body. He had thankfully eaten the entire bowl of soup. You chuckle and let out a quiet, ‘yes’, standing up to wash the dishes.

“Go upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute.” Taron carefully stands and wobbles up the stairs towards your room. You clean the dishes and fill a glass with water, then quietly ascend the stairs and walk into your room.

“Come cuddle,” Taron whines out when he sees you. You chuckle and set the glass on his nightstand.

“Let me get changed into something more comfortable,” you tell him. He huffs dramatically and clutches your pillow in his arms, nuzzling his face against it.

“You are so dramatic when you’re sick,” you joke.

“Am not!” He defends.

“So are!” You finish slipping into one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts, and finally slide under the covers with your sick, over-dramatic boyfriend. He immediately moves his body next to yours, setting your pillow back behind you. You wrap your arms around his tense body, one hand resting on his back, the other tangled in his hair. You scratch your nails against his scalp, which causes him to moan out in pleasure; he is pretty much putty in your hands when you do that.

“You feeling any better?” You whisper against his forehead. He shakes his head as much as he can, and cuddles closer to you. He was practically laying on top of you, but you didn’t care.

“Get some sleep, yeah? Take a nap and I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner.” And with that, Taron is fast asleep. You watch a movie quietly on the TV in your room, and make sure Taron stays asleep.

You check your phone about a couple hours later, a movie and a half later, and see that it’s close to five at night. Taron had moved to lay on his side next to you, so you slowly slid your hands up his back to wake him..

“Taron, honey,” you whisper against his shoulder. He groans and huddles further beneath the comforter. You shake him, but that only makes him whimper and cry. You feel bad, not knowing that moving him just a little would hurt him.

“I’m sorry, baby. But you should eat something, get some more food in your system.” He shakes his head against your pillow and moans again.

“Come on, Taron. You can go right back to sleeping, but eat something first.” Finally, and against his better judgement, he steadily sat up, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You stayed right next to him, making sure he wasn’t going to fall over or pass out.

“You feeling better?” You ask. He sighs deeply and thinks for a moment.

“Not really. I honestly feel worse. Should’ve just stayed awake,” he murmurs. His voice sounds much more hoarse and his nose sounds a bit stuffed.

“I’m sorry. I thought sleeping would make you feel better,” you apologize, seeing as you were the one to make him take a nap.

“It’s not your fault, darling. Sleeping sickness off for me doesn’t ever do much,” he explains. You grab his hand and help him down the stairs, into the kitchen.

“Do you want a grilled cheese?” You question as he sits at the table, slumping down and setting his head on his crossed arms. You chose to make some anyway because it sounded good to you.

“Here you are, bub,” you say as you set a plate in front of him. He sits up, his face looks very flushed and he still doesn’t look well; he honestly looks much worse.

“Maybe if you eat something, you’ll feel better,” you suggest. He nods and picks up one half of the sandwich, taking a well-sized bite before setting it back down. You smile softly and reach over to stroke his forearm.

“I hate seeing you like this, Taron. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” He shrugs and takes another bite.

“Just cuddle with me and I’ll be fine, yeah?” He finally cracks a smile for the first time today. You grin wider and agree to his offer.

After you two finish eating, Taron having only hate a half of the full sandwich, he takes a shower, of course asking you to join him, explaining that he feels too weak to even wash his hair; you knew he was being serious, though.

So, you help Taron wash himself, which was harder than you thought would be, considering he decided to lean himself against you the entire time. This resulted in you becoming a bit agitated with him, but you couldn’t stay too mad.

Once you two were dried off and dressed comfortably once again, you cuddled up in bed in the same position as when Taron fell asleep.

“You wanna watch a movie until we fall asleep?” You quietly ask him.

“I have a headache, just want to rest,” he mutters against your neck. You sigh and decide to watch Bridesmaids, considering you’ve seen it many times and could watch it with the volume really low, as to not bother Taron.

After the movie was over, Taron had yet to fall asleep. He was rolling over every other minute, and no matter what, he couldn’t get comfortable. He would often curl up in a fetal position and clutch his stomach.

“You want another cup of te-“ Before you could even finish your question, Taron jumped up from the bed and ran to the bathroom. You sigh and lean back, closing your eyes as you listen to him empty his stomach into the toilet. You gave him room for a couple minutes before making your way into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, love. I know you probably didn’t want to deal with me getting sick and I know you wanted to just talk and catch up and cuddle but-“

“Taron, it’s fine. We have a while before your next project starts up, a few days of you being sick isn’t going to upset me, I promise.” He nods along as he listens to your words, but soon leans forward once more towards the toilet.

“I’m gonna go make you another cup of tea and get you some crackers,” you tell him, standing to head downstairs quickly.

Once his tea is made, you grab a sleeve of standard crackers and slowly walk back to your room.

“Here you are, hun,” you say quietly. He thanks you and takes a long sip, grabbing the food from you after.

“I promise as soon as I feel better and up for it, I’m going to make love to you all day and all night. I miss your body, the way it feels against mine, the way your lips wr-“

“I see you’re feeling a little better,” you chuckle at Taron’s sudden horny thoughts. He laughs lightly and nods.

“Just a little. I’m gonna try and get some sleep now,” he says. You nod and let him cuddle up against you. He rests his head on your shoulder, resting on hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from taking care of your sick boyfriend, but sleep isn’t that easy for him.

You are on your side, facing the wall, when you hear a loud groan and the bed shake due to Taron plopping against it, frustrated.

“Tar? What’s wrong?” You ask in a sleep-filled voice. He sighs deeply and quietly apologizes.

“I can’t fall asleep,” he says. You open your eyes and roll over to face him. You grab his cheek and softly stroke your thumb against his pink skin.

“Why not?”

“I can’t get comfortable, and my head is just aching. I can’t take any more medicine because I just took painkillers for my headache.” You nod against your pillow and trail your hand up to his hair.

“What can I do to help?” You wonder. You begin to scratch your nails on his scalp, starting from his forehead to the back of his neck, then from his temple to the side of his neck. He hummed in satisfaction, closing his eyes as he focused on your touch.

“Tell me about why you chose to become a screenwriter?” He asks. You laugh and take a deep breath before beginning.

“I’ve loved telling stories since I was young. I was always making up scenarios in my head, and when I got older, I ended up translating those into actual stories. I’ve also always loved movies, and I wanted to work in that industry. So, I chose to combine them both and become a screenwriter,” you explain briefly. There was a lot more to the story, but you were too tired to go into every little detail. Taron nods against your hand, his eyes remaining shut.

“Can you sing to me?” He requests.

“Of course,” you respond. Your hand continues threading through his hair as you begin to sing Your Song. It was a special song for the both of you, and it had unanimously became ‘your song’, no pun intended.

As you continue on with the song, Taron’s breathing slowed down as he finally fell into a deep sleep for the first time today.

“Goodnight, bub. I love you,” you whisper against his forehead before pressing a soft kiss to his skin. You pull him into your arms and soon fall asleep right after.

•••

permanent taglist: @stfxlou @onexlittlespark @babebenhardy (wasn’t sure if you guys are interested in Taron, but i have you for my permanent tag list!! if you don’t want to be tagged in any fics that aren’t Ben related, just let me know!! :))

[parkerspicedlatte]

Snowdays With Peter Parker (Headcanon)

A/N: Okay so first of all I want to say thank you to my AMAZING Aunt Grey @hey-its-grey (go check her out!) for making this moodboard!!! Love it so much! So this is just a cute fluff headcanon in which every. single. cliché. is added hope you like it :)

Masterlist

You woke up first because somebody’s cold toes were against your legs

Your first instinct was to pull the blankets back onto your body because he was hogging them but decided not to once you saw his sleepy face pressed into the pillow

Instead you slowly slipped out of bed and tucked the blankets back up to his chin

Then you put on a pair of fuzzy socks and one of Peter’s sweaters and went to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of you

You were sipping on your tea and scrolling through your phone waiting for the pan to heat up when Peter stumbled into the kitchen

Before you could even say good morning he had his face snuggled into your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into his frame while still half leaning against you

“Sleep okay?”

He just nodded his head and nosed his way past your hair to place the tiniest softest kisses to your collarbone and neck

“Peter I have to keep making breakfast” you tell him placing your mug onto the counter to wrap your arms around him

Eventually after a bit of incoherent mumbling and neck snuggling you managed to pry him off of your body and sit him on the bar stools so that you could continue cooking

When you placed the plate of food and coffee in front of him his head was in his arms laying on the countertop and you could see him nodding off again

You giggled sitting down next to him with your breakfast pulling the blanket off of his back to wrap it around the two of you

“I love you.” He mumbles sweetly resting his head on your shoulder

“I know you do but you have to eat breakfast now, come on Petie I let you sleep in”

“How come you’re still home? You should be at work.”

“The school called, buses are canceled and they aren’t opening any of the schools in the district because there’s too much snow on the road. So I get to stay home with you today.” You tell him nuzzling your nose against his

He just grinned sleepily at you

After breakfast the two of you decided to go outside and build a snowman in the front yard that would hold up the ‘Welcome Winter’ sign you made a few days prior

You already had the two bottom pieces put together and you were about to finish up the head when the first snowball hit you

“Hey!” you turned around expecting to see Peter standing behind you laughing but you couldn’t see him

As you spun around to look around you the second snowball came at you out of nowhere

“Where are you?” you demanded giggling

“I know where you sleep Parker!” you lean down to start making your own snowball when the third one hit you smack in the middle of your back

“Seriously Peter where are you?” you scan over the ward still not finding the brunet

You start to walk around peeking behind gates and blue bins with your snowball held high ready to throw it but you still couldn’t find him

“Peter if you don’t show yourself”

Whomp. That snowball hit you in the chest with more force than you were expecting causing you to fall backwards and land in the snow

You could hear giggling come from behind the snowman

Busted

“You asked for it Parker!”

The giggling instantly stops as you near the snowman

You were sure he could hear your footprints but you didn’t care, where could he go anyways?

“Hi babe” he says grinning up at you as you peer over the snowman

“Hey Petie.” You grin dropping the snowball onto the top of his head

The both of you falling over clutching your stomachs giggling

You crawled over to him with both your hands on either side of his head

“I’m sorry.” Peter giggles out from underneath you

“How sorry are you?” you tease back

Instead of answering he leans up to kiss you

Just as his lips are millimeters away from yours he stops

“Probably not sorry enough.” He says bringing a handful of snow up and mashing it playfully into your face

“Peter!”

He rolled the two of you over so that he was on top of you but ended up falling onto you anyways because he was laughing so hard

“You’re dead Parker!”

He quickly scurries off of you and giving you a hand to help you up onto your feet

But once you’re up he runs like mad

You knew you wouldn’t be able to catch him so you do the next best thing

You reach down and scoop up some snow and pack it into a tight little ball and launch the snowball at the running target

Apparently somebody’s SpideySenses needed to be finetuned because you hit him directly in the back of his head

Before you could even laugh there were several snowballs flying in your direction

This resulted in a snowball fight that lasted a good chunk of time

“Peter that’s not fair, you’re using you abilities against me!”

“You asked for it babe.”

Eventually you both ended up throwing a snowball at each other and both of them hit the other in the chest at the same time causing the two of you to giggle until you fell over next to each other

“Truce?” he asked once you’d both caught your breath

“Truce.” You confirm

You both got back up and finished the snowman making the face out of small rocks you’d been saving since the summer for the first snowman and two sticks that weren’t even close to the same length

Neither of you cared, it was perfect to the both of you

You ran to the back door and retrieved the ‘Welcome Winter’ sign

Once the sign was in the perfect position facing the road and the drive way you both got beside the snowman and took a selfie with Peter’s phone

It’s his new screen saver; he loves how pink your cheeks were and how bright your eyes were shining

Now that the snowman was built you and Peter headed for the house

The two of you having to strip down to your underwear in the front entrance because your clothes had become soaked to the bone from the snow fight

Running upstairs and getting in the shower as fast as you both could to warm back up

Wrapping each other up in warm fuzzy towels once you two got out of the shower

Getting dressed in the biggest sweater of Peter’s you could find and a pair of unmatched fuzzy socks to go with a pair of his sweat pants you’d stolen borrowed

Going downstairs and making soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch together then spending the rest of the afternoon cuddling on the couch and watching your favorite movies that he pretended he didn’t like

He secretly loves them as much as you do but only because he loves watching you get excited over certain scenes and the way you lip sync along with the characters

All in all it was the perfect Snowday

[placeholdertiligetaname]

i havent written the boyz getting together i know but here’s a bit abt deus getting sick. they have been dating a couple weeks or so

Amadeus felt... feeble. His head screamed in protest at even the slightest of movement. His throat ached, threatening to reject any fluid he swallowed that was neither hot or cold. Perhaps worst of all was trying to speak, particularly when it involved calling clients and cancelling their appointments for fear of spreading his illness (hence why, he noted, he needed to find a partner to help run the clinic. ASAP.)

Among the people he called was Douglas, who was supposed to come in that day for his sons’ checkups. Based upon the children cheering in the background of the phone call upon hearing the news, Amadeus assumed that nobody involved was too disappointed. Hence why a look of confusion fell upon Amadeus’ face as a knock on the door resounded through the clinic, heavily lidded eyes flickering open. The doctor pried himself off the sofa and stepped down the creaky flight of stairs. It was likely a patient, he reasoned, unaware that the clinic was closed or refusing to acknowledge the ‘closed’ sign. Just as he was about to open the door and give his usual spiel (“My clinic is closed. Should you require emergency services, calling 911...”), a familiar pair of eyes peered through the window at the top of the door.

“Ah. Douglas,” he mumbled hoarsely after opening it up. “I’m not seeing anyone today.”

Douglas seemed unfazed. “Yeah. I brought soup.”

“..Soup?” Amadeus leered at the container in Douglas’ hand, a blue, insulated lunchpail holding what he assumed was poorly-made soup (Doug was not a great chef- he’d burnt many grilled cheeses and quesadillas. Amadeus could only imagine how an attempt at soup would’ve gone.)

Douglas caught the reluctance in Amadeus’ expression, leaning in the doorway. “Don’t give me that look. It’s from the café.”

Appeased, Amadeus nodded curtly, which he immediately regretted as his head reminded him what it’d feel like to slam it into a brick wall. “Oh. Thank you.”

An awkward lull in the conversation led to Douglas scratching the back of his neck (which, Lauren had previously noted, he did quite often when embarassed) before clearing his throat. “Do I... leave this with ya? I’m new to the whole ‘datin’ while sober’ thing.”

Ah. Amadeus wasn’t aware of too much of Doug’s past, but he understood that him and his previous husband often bonded over a pint. Or two. Or seven. “You may get sick if you come in,” Amadeus pointed out. “But I don’t mind your company.”

Douglas shrugged. “I was with ya yesterday. Prolly already sick.” He nudged the other man into the clinic, effectively corraling him up the stairs. “Really, y’shouldn’t be up.”

“You’re right, it’s not like anybody knocked at my door or anything.” The couch creaked beneath his weight when Amadeus flopped back onto it, wrapping himself in blankets he’d dug out of the few unopened moving boxes left.

“I wouldn’ta had ya come downstairs but the door was locked. Usually I just knock ‘n open.” His gaze was focused directly on Amadeus’ stove, the latter of which flickered to life in a ring of blue flames at Doug’s hesitant touch. He pulled a pot from where he knew Barlow kept them and unzipped the lunchpail, pulling a styrofoam cup from it that was hastily emptied into the pot.

“I’m sure your kids love that,” he croaked, ignoring the way his throat protested his soft laughter.

“Nah. They hate it.” Another shrug, his focus plastered to the slow movement of the soup as he mixed it with a spoon. “I think they’re real lucky. I mean, my Pa ain’t ever knock.”

“That... kinda sounds awful, Douglas. He’d just barge in whenever?” Amadeus quirked an eyebrow, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Naw, it ain’t so bad. Haven’t lived ‘til y’r old man catches ya with another guy in y’r bed.” He glanced over at Amadeus, the grimace on the doctor’s face enough to elicit a hearty chuckle. “What’d y’r parents do then, huh?”

“They knocked and waited. Like... most people do.” Admittedly, Amadeus spent very little time with his door closed, but he felt that irrelevant to his point. “..Did your father actually walk in on you and another guy?”

“Oh, yeah. We weren’t doin’ nothin’ bad. Just uh, kissin’.” Amadeus watched as he stirred the pot a bit faster, as if it’d distract him from the memory.

Sensing that he’d get very little information on that particular topic, Amadeus flicked to something nonchalant. “Douglas, what soup did you buy?”

“Chicken noodle. Talked t’the gal behind the counter. Said it was the only thing y’wouldn’t complain about eating,” he admitted, pouring the broth into a ceramic bowl and pressing a spoon into it.

Startled, he sat up and asked, “Do I have a reputation around town for complaining?”

“No.” Doug placed the bowl into Amadeus’ lap, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “She said the rest had too much sodium, whatever that is, and that she ain’t ever had a doctor not complain ‘bout it.” At the surprised look he was tossed, Douglas added, “She’s a good friend. I ain’t jus’ tellin’ foodworkers who the food I’m buyin’ is for. Wheaton’s a small town, but it ain’t that small.”

Amadeus sighed contently, leaning on the other man. “..Thanks, then.”

“Y’said that already.” The hand on Amadeus’ hip pulled him a bit closer, not that the doctor could complain about the warmth (at the moment anyway- the appeal faded when he awoke feeling like a furnace later on.)

“Ah.”

[waywardnerd67]

Man Colds

Summary: What happens when the two best and badass hunters in the world catch a cold. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Donna Hanscum Pairing: None Warnings: Obnoxious Fluff, Sick!Sam, Sick!Dean, Momma!Jody, Momma!Donna  Word Count: 1130 A/N: I blame @ain-t-bovvered and @ladywinchester1967 for this. How a post about Dean’s sinful mouth lead to me writing a one shot about them having colds, I don’t know. I also ended up writing this from Sam’s POV which is weird for me since I write nothing but Dean. This is unbeta so mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are amazing and appreciated! Enjoy!

It had all started when Sam and Dean Winchester worked a vengeful spirit case in a daycare center. They had posed as maintenance workers sweeping the whole building for EMF which was off the charts. Sam had tried to dodge every dirty hand, snotty nose and especially the poopy pants. Dean, on the other hand, was beloved by not only the kids but also the staff. He would eat with them during snack time, play outside on the playground and a number of time Sam had caught him sitting in a rocking chair holding one of the kids patting their back to get them to take a nap. After a few days, they finally were able to find the spirit’s remains, salt and burn them. Though, it took Sam practically dragging Dean away, “But dude! Today’s snack is pudding! I promised Robbie I would color with him during snack time.” Sam grabbed Dean’s elbow and dragged him out of the Daycare Center, “You do know you’re not a child, right? Come on, Dean we have to go.” Dean pouted all the way to the car as they climbed in. “Dude, that was just rude. We could have stay fifteen more minutes.” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean drove off the parking lot.

That was three days ago and now the two Winchesters brother were holed up in their rooms. Both of them were running fevers, coughing, sneezing and had sore throats. They both searched the bunker for anything to remedy their colds. Sam had found two boxes of Kleenex that had never been opened and a bag of cough drops he was pretty sure were alright to ingest. Dean had found an old bottle of cough syrup that had expired way longer than either of them wanted to think about but did help their coughing spells. Now going in to their fourth day feeling like roadkill their supplies were low. “SAMMY!! Get me more tissues!” Dean yelled immediately regretting it as he started another coughing fit. He sat up in his bed covering his mouth with his blanket. “I can’t Dean! You said you would bring me the cough medicine an hour ago.” Sam yelled back as he blew his nose realizing he used the last tissue. “DEAN! We don’t have any more tissues!” Dean stopped coughing finally and grabbed the bottle of cough syrup only to see it was empty. “Son of bitch! SAMMY! We’re out of couch syrup!” Dean flopped back onto his bed with a grunt. He looked up to see Sam standing in his doorway his long hair sticking up wildly and wrapped up in his blanket. “I called Jody and Donna. They’re on their way with supplies.” Dean mustered up a small smile and said, “Thank god! Did you tell them to bring pie?”

A few hours later, Sam heard the bunker door open and the voices of Sheriff Jody Mills along with Sheriff Donna Hanscum. “Sam? Dean?” Jody yelled out. “In here!” They yelled from their respective rooms. Sam looked up to see Jody trying to hold back her laughter, “Thank you for coming Jody.” Sam coughed covering his mouth, “It’s been miserable here for days.” Jody nodded, “I bet. Donna and I will get you both set up with Cold Survival Kits and some home cooked meals. Don’t you worry.” Sam smiled up at her and then laid back down. When he woke up, Jody was shaking him handing him some Tylenol and a shot of cough syrup. He swallowed both making a disgusted face at the taste of cough medicine. “I know, kiddo, but you gotta take it.” Jody chuckled as Sam snarled his lip. An hour later, Donna came in with a tray of chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. “Here ya go, now eat that all up and I’ll come back for the tray.” Sam sat up starting to feel a little better and took the tray. “Is Dean starting to feel better?” Donna smiled at Sam’s concern for his older brother. “Oh, you betcha! He’s starting to sound like the old Dean we all know and love. Jody took him his tomato rice soup.” Sam laughed as Donna got up and left his room.

The next morning, Sam felt a thousand times better and got up walking out to the library. He found Dean sitting in a clean pair of sweatpants and a hoodie with of all things a coloring book. “Sammy! How are you feeling?” He asked looking up from his classic car his was coloring. Sam chuckled, “I’m feeling alright and it seems you are as well.” Dean nodded excitedly. “Look at these little survival kits they made us. Of course, mine is way cooler because it has coloring books in it and a gift card for iTunes.” Donna nodded in agreement as she was also coloring alongside Dean sharing a box of crayons. Sam looked down at his kit which was all in a shower caddy. It had tissues, cough drops, Tylenol, cough syrup, a book of crossword puzzles and an Amazon gift card. “Alright boys, there are meals in the freezer for you that should last a few days. We stocked up your cupboards with food and Gatorade. Plus, Donna made a couple of pies for you both.” Dean’s head popped up, “Did you say pie?” Jody and Donna laughed as Sam shook his head. “We also stocked your medicine cabinet and first aid kit so you two should be good to go.” Jody explained as she stood up walking to each of them feeling their heads. “Feels like your fevers broke as well, which is good. Now, drink plenty of water and Gatorade. Keeping taking Tylenol and cough medicine for the next few days. I would not go hunting for a little while to make sure your bodies are at full strength.”

Sam stood up and hugged Jody, “Thank you for everything. Both of you.” Jody and Donna both smiled lovingly at them. “No problem. Anytime you need us just let us know. We’re going to get going since we both have to work. We’ll check in on you tomorrow.” Sam and Dean waved goodbye to them. “So, Sam do you want to watch a movie in my room? Donna cleaned it while I was asleep and you wouldn’t believe how nice it smells in there.” Dean stood up cleaning his coloring book and crayons up while grabbing his survival kit. Sam smiled, “Yeah I would love that Dean. I’ll meet you in there in fifteen minutes and I’ll bring some sandwiches in with me.” Sam grabbed his kit and walked to the kitchen. As he was making the sandwiches he heard Dean yell from his room, “SAMMY! Don’t forget the pie!”

Tagging a few lovelies: @waywardbaby @carryonmywaywardcaptain @rosethesupernaturalhunter @anotherwaywardsister

[thethespacecoyote]

instead of working on any major project or any prompt I did this because I’m sick and sand and I wanted to write something with Jack being sick and sad

it’s not very good but orz just take it

“Rhys,” Jack mumbles around a spoon, “this soup sucks.”

Rhys acknowledges him only with an annoyed hiss and a slight roll of the eyes as he pulls the spoon back from between Jack’s lips and soaks it back into the bowl. Sure, the celery kind of dissolved into the broth and turned it a bit green and he might not have added enough salt, but the carrots and chicken and noodles are all good quality and taste fine to Rhys, so he doesn’t know where Jack iss coming from.

The older man snorts, and coughs, and audibly sucks snot up through his nose. Rhys cringes as he stirs the soup, trying to seek out a heartier morsel.

“I dunno what you’re talking about. It’s not that bad. Also I’m not sure I trust the taste buds of the guy who’s stuffed to the gills with mucus.”

“A palate as mighty as mine can’t be defeated by a friggin’ cold,” Jack waggles his finger from within the folds of the blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. Only his head and hands pop out from the butter yellow comforter, making him look like some kind of weird monster. The Great Golden Hyperion Sniffler, or something.

“All right, Mr. Master Chef, open up ‘cause you’re not gonna get anything else until you get better.” Rhys waves the laden spoon in front of Jack’s lips, holding the bowl underneath to catch any dripping. Jack frowns deeply, breathing through his nose muffled as he narrows his eyes at the spoon.

“Think I’d rather starve…”

“Nuh-uh, no starving. The King of Hyperion isn’t going to die just because he doesn’t want to eat his boyfriend’s soup,” Rhys admonishes as he wiggles the spoon in front of Jack’s lips.

“C’mon now don’t be a wimp. See, here’s comes the bandit, launching out of the airlock!”

Luckily for Rhys, that gets Jack to snicker, leaving him an opening to slip the spoon between his boyfriend’s lips. Jack grunts and glared, but swallows down the spoonful nonetheless, his grimace this time around a little less dramatic.

“When I’m back to full strength, I’ve got to give you some friggin’ cooking lessons, pumpkin,” Jack grouses as he settles back against the headboard, shaky hands dragging the comforter tighter about himself.

“That’s plenty of motivation for you to get better, then. Once you kick this flu, I promise you won’t have to eat my soup ever again.” Rhys dids around the bowl for a big piece of chicken and a couple of dripping noodles. “But until then…”

Jack moans, flopping his head back as he snorts mucus back into his swollen nose.

“Please, kiddo, no more torture….and I’ve like, actually been tortured so I know what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, drama queen.” Rhys nestles the soup in his lap, holding up a finger. “One more bite, and I’ll put the rest in the fridge, okay?”

“In the fridge? Kiddo, I think you know where that belongs, in the tras—“

“Shush.” Rhys shoves the last spoonful into Jack’s helpless mouth, quickly dropping it back into the bowl as Jack struggles to swallow it down. “You’re really mouthy for someone who is apparently sick.”

“I am sick.” Jack licks his cracked lips as he snuggles back against his pillow, eyes starting to flutter shut. “What….do I need to be….blowin’ chunks everywhere for you to believe me…”

“I’d prefer if you kept my soup down, thanks,” Rhys chuckles as he rises, cradling the soup in one hand as the other tugs the blankets tighter around Jack’s body and checks his temperature. Mollified for now, Rhys pats Jack atop the head, earning a sleepy grumble and an abortive swat. He dims the bedroom lights on his way out, leaving Jack to rest in the dark and quiet as he returns to the kitchen to keep the soup for later.

Things are fairly  boring around the penthouse with Jack laid up and ill.

Rhys usually occupies himself with organizing Jack’s inevitable clutter or spending his time watching television or playing on one of the many game systems, and if neither of those tickle his fancy he browses the ECHOnet on his palm display. He usually flips through new options for his wardrobe or plays any of the little mini games that have come installed with his operating system, but the needling fact that Jack is ill, even with something as mundane as the flu, keeps him from relaxing enough to properly enjoy any of the aforementioned activities. He hops from one to the next to the next, with not enough focus to linger on one for much longer than a few minutes. After about an hour of foiled distractions, he finally decides to make himself a grilled cheese and curl on the couch, where he gratefully ends up falling asleep snuggled around one of the firm throw pillows.

He wakes up for no clear reason sometime later, moaning softly to himself as he drags into an upright position, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his fingers back through his hair as he squints towards the digital clock on the entertainment center, though considering he can’t remember when he fell asleep, it doesn’t particularly help.

Rhys wobbles to his feet and retrieves two cool glasses of water from the kitchen, draining the first himself as he carries the other to the bedroom.

He creeps softly inside, letting the door drift shut behind him as he approaches the bed. Jack had rolled out of his previous cocoon and now lies on his side, sleeping curled up in the fetal position and facing the huge space window.

Rhys sits on the bed and knocks the glass against the nightstand a little too loudly, and he expects Jack to stir and groan at him for being so loud, but to Rhys’ surprise Jack stays motionless and—more surprisingly—quiet.

Rhys leans sideways on his hand, peering over Jack’s form as his heart picks up, puzzled. The comforter curls around Jack’s head like a hood, hiding his face from view. Rhys worries his lip, reaching forward and tugging the blanket away.

Jack isn’t asleep.

His eyes are half open, lids vibrating like they’d been plucked, fluttering between wanting to shut and forcing themselves open. Rhys can’t see any pupils or irises, only mottled white, even in the eye he knows to be undamaged and seeing. Jack’s skin has lost the reserve of color, even around his swollen nose and eyes, making the scar slashed across his face stand out, stark and cold. Rhys puts a hand against his forehead and gasps at the heat, even as Jack’s whole body shivers underneath the blankets.

“Jack? Holy shit, Jack!” Rhys’ voice rises urgently above a whisper as he rubs Jack’s shoulders, shaking him in hopes he’d snapped out of the fugue and tell him to screw of, but Jack only whines in a tone Rhys has never heard before, that sends his stomach twisting into one big worried knot.

Rhys ends up summoning Jack’s personal doctor in on a house call after a couple more panicked moments. He stays by Jack’s side until she comes, keeping a rag cool and wet as he rubs it over the older man’s forehead. He whispers to him until he’s lost track of what exactly he’s saying, the constant mumbling as much a comfort to himself as he hopes it is to Jack. The sound of the security door chiming finally breaks him out of it and he rises on shaky legs, taking glances over his shoulder at Jack until he manages to break away and skirt through the living room, quickly opening the door and inviting the doctor in.

He wrings the end of his tie in hand as he watches her tend to Jack. The lump in his throat refuses to go down as he looks on. He isn’t really listening to what the doctor is saying, but her voice was cool and calm and her hands assured, even as Jack’s limbs flop limp as she turns him onto his back and parts the sweat-stained blankets around his chest. Rhys knots his tie anxiously between his fingers as she records Jack’s temperature and presses her stethoscope to his chest, taking stock of his breathing.

“I’m going to put him on a fluid drip just in case,” the doctor’s measured, calm voice is a balm to Rhys’ anxiety as he nods, letting her go about her business as he numbly watches, trying not to think about the reedy, thin breaths drifting in and out of Jack’s open mouth. The doctor thankfully hides Jack’s arm with her body as she slips the needle into the vein in his forearm, wrapping it up with gauze. She hooks the bag up on a collapsible stand, letting the saline drain down with the aid of gravity.

She gives Rhys two small white bottles—one of fever reducers, one of painkillers—and a request to call her if things grow worse, then leaves Rhys alone in the dim light of the bedroom.

He sits back down heavily against the bed, before scooting to the edge, afraid to jostle Jack any more. He keeps his hands in his lap, the pills in the bottles clacking softly as he turns them over in his hands before leaning to set them against the nightstand.

It’s far too quiet.

Rhys can hear only the weak, raspy sound of Jack’s breathing, in time with the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It’s both too much, and not enough, and he can’t take it.

“You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” Rhys murmurs as he rests his hand against Jack’s shoulder, rubbing slowly down to the crook of his elbow before traveling back up, careful not to disturb the IV pulsing into his forearm. Jack’s doesn’t respond, but he seems calmer, now, less caught up in the throes of fever. Though peaceful resting doesn’t exactly suit him either, Rhys feels. If Jack hadn’t been ill and needing to recover, Rhys might be tempted to poke and prod him until he wakes up and gives Rhys a chance to hear the bite of that comforting snark.

The awkward quiet is a rough pill to swallow, so Rhys fills it aimlessly, murmuring aloud to his boyfriend about anything at all as he carefully strokes Jack’s arm, occasionally changing and wetting the cloth on his forehead.

Maybe, Rhys thinks, if he speaks like Jack is awake and acerbic as always instead of listless and hooked up to fluids, he soon will be.

[sanversinsane]

Sick Day.

For the anon that requested the Nicole being sick fic, here you go. Sorry it’s not super long or great but it’s something.

Waverly smiled as she made her way down the hallway of the police station with a white box in her hand containing chicken salad from Shorties. It was Nicole’s favorite. Nicole, her girlfriend, who she couldn’t stand being away from for more than a few hours. Her girlfriend’s text to her had been short that morning, not like her usually enthusiastic texts. Waverly figured she was probably having a bad day, so she thought bringing her lunch might make it better…and she selfishly wanted to see her too.

But she was taken back when she turned the corner into the office and didn’t see Nicole’s fire red hair and dimples. Instead she saw Lonnie, the new guy. Maybe Nicole was out on patrol?

“Hey….Lonnie.” Waverly said as she glanced around the office. “Nicole around?”

“Haven’t seen her. I was just called in a few hours ago to work the desk.” He shrugged.

“Nedley in his office?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I pop my head in?” She smiled.

Lonnie opened the small door to let Waverly through. She knocked on Nedley’s door and waited for him to tell her she could come in before entering. “Hey Nedley, have you seen Nicole around?”

“No, she called out sick today. Sounded like she had a bullfrog in her throat when I talked to her.” He said as he closed a file that he had in front of him.

“Sick?” Waverly asked. “But she didn’t say anything to me.” Waverly thought out loud.

Nedley shrugged. “Don’t know much about it, sorry hun.”’

Waverly nodded “No, it’s okay. Thanks Nedley. I’ll go check up on her just to make sure she’s okay.” She was about to leave when she turned back around and placed the box of food she was holding on Nedley’s desk. “Here, have this.”

She made a pit stop at the diner in town to pick up soup before heading over to Nicole’s. Waverly wasn’t sure why, but on her drive to her girlfriend’s house she was filled with anger. Maybe it was because Nicole didn’t tell her she was sick. Or maybe it was the fact that Nicole was always taking care of Waverly, but she never got to return the favor. Well, this time she would.

She knocked on the door to Nicole’s home. Moments later an abnormally pale faced Nicole answered. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hair was a bit of a tousled mess, and the tip of her nose was as red as her hair. “Waves?” She croaked.

The anger that Waverly felt subsided for a moment and she was filled with nothing but concern. She should have been the first to know Nicole was sick; just like that she was pissed again. Waverly let herself in, waking past Nicole to the kitchen. “You look like shit.”

“Wow thanks babe.” Nicole rolled her eyes as she closed the door. “Waves, what are you doing here?” Nicole asked as she followed her to the kitchen.

“I stopped by the office today to bring you lunch.” Waverly began as she poured the tomato soup that was in a container into one of Nicole’s blue ceramic bowl. “I had to hear from Nedley that you called out sick.” She grabbed a spoon and placed it in the bowl. She leaned on the counter as she looked back up at her girlfriend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Waves, it’s nothing. It’s just a small cold. I didn’t want to worry you.” Nicole’s voice was hoarse and scratchy.

“Baby…” Waverly sighed as she took a few steps toward Nicole. It was impossible for her to stay mad at that face. “I’m your girlfriend, worrying is basically part of my job description.” Nicole smiled and then coughed into her elbow. “Here.” Waverly gave her the bowl of soup. “Go sit on the couch I’ll be there in a second.”

Nicole grabbed the soup and walked her way back to the couch. A few minutes later Waverly was walking into the living room with a freshly made grilled cheese sandwich. “Waves you didn’t ha-”

“I know.” Waverly nodded. “I know you don’t need me to take care of you. And I know you’re capable of being alone when you’re sick. But I want to be here for you.” Waverly held up the plate with the sandwich on it. “My favorite sick day meal; grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

Nicole couldn’t help but smile as she took a bite of the cheesy bread and slurped the soup off the spoon. “It is really good.” Nicole coughed a bit.

“Told ya.” Waverly sat back and watched Nicole eat.

“You know…I never really…” Nicole coughed again. “I never really had anyone care for me before….like when I’m sick.” She continued to eat.

Waverly nodded. “I kinda figured.” She smiled as she nudged her girlfriend’s side. “Well those days are over.” She pulled Nicole into her side and she settled right in. “Nicole, you’re always the one caring for everyone. You’re always jumping to people’s rescue, and lending a hand when someone needs it. Which is all so great, it’s one of the many things I love about you, but you deserve to have someone do all that for you too.”

“You’re right I do.” Nicole nodded. She tilted her head up to look at Waverly. “I’m so glad I have you.”

Waverly brushed a piece of hair behind Nicole’s ear. She pressed her lips to Nicole’s forehead and immediately felt the heat. “Oh babe you’re burning up.”

“Yeah I had a fever this morning.” Nicole sighed.

“Did you take anything?”

“Yeah, some cold medicine. The doctor said I just have to wait for it to break.” Nicole sniffled.

“Okay, well, I’ll be here with you until it does.” Waverly stroked her face gently. “Wanna put on a movie?” Nicole nodded.

A few minutes into the movie Nicole was out cold on Waverly’s lap. Waverly continued to run her fingers through her hair and periodically touch her forehead to check her fever. Nicole slept for two hours before waking up.

“Morning sleeping beauty.”

“God, I didn’t sleep at all last night, 5 minutes with my head in your lap and I’m sleeping like a baby.” She giggled and then coughed.

“I’m glad you got some rest.” Waverly smiled as Nicole sat up. “Fevers pretty much gone.”

“Yeah I feel a little better than I did this morning.” Nicole stretched. “What time is it?” She asked.

Waverly glanced at her phone. “Almost 5.”

“Oh babe, I didn’t realize it was that late. You don’t have to st-”

“No, I’m staying with you tonight and that’s that.” Waverly cut her off. “Now, I’m gonna go get a bath going. I’ll be right back.”

Waverly stood up and was headed for the bathroom when Nicole’s voice stopped her. “Waves?”

“Yeah?” Waverly turned.

“Thank you. Really.” Nicole nodded.

“It’s what I’m here for babe.” She smiled before turning. When she was at the bathroom she called out to Nicole. “Feels good to have someone take care of you, doesn’t it?!”

Nicole laughed and shook her head. “It sure does.” She said to herself.

[agoodflyting]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

A small thing for the Single Dad/Hot Teacher AU Winter rolls around, bringing slush and runny noses.

Rey catches a cold the first week of December and stays home from school, eating canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and watching Mythbusters on Netflix. For three days, Ben’s Google search history is a string of desperate inquiries:

difference between cold and flu is throwing up normal with a cold flu symptoms how long does the flu last diseases similar to flu symptoms of anthrax is it anthrax or flu how much tylenol safe for kids 100 degree fever when to take kids to the hospital fever

She sleeps on the couch, a sad, sniffly little burrito in her favorite Wonder Woman blanket, and he calls out of work to bring her juice and rub circles on her back with his palm, like he used to see her mom do when she was a baby. When her throat hurts and she whimpers because she can’t sleep, Ben honest-to-god cries. He’s never felt so useless in his life.

The second day, Rey’s teacher texts Ben to ask how she’s doing.

The December snow is thin, not good for much more than coating the sidewalks in a thin layer of white that’s quickly trampled dirty brown. It’s a shame- Ben remembers winters when he was a kid being a lot more impressive. He has vague, probably exaggerated memories of giant snowmen and building ice forts in his backyard with his dad.

The local kids manage to have some fun with it anyway, scraping snow off ledges and fences around the apartment complex to fling at each other. In the mornings he bundles Rey off in her hat and scarf. The early morning frost turns her nose and cheeks pink as she walks to school with a neighbor kid, a boy named Finn who lived in the next building and had recently lost one of his front teeth.

“That’s so cool!” Rey squeals when Finn holds it up in one glove, beaming a gap-toothed grin.

After school, Ben waits outside the playground doors so that he can walk home with Rey. He sticks out like a sore thumb in the pack of stay-at-home moms waiting for their kids outside the school. On top of being a fucking giant, he’s the only guy there. The first few days he kept half-expecting one of them to call the cops on him.

Now they just ignore him, flashing wary smiles before going back to comparing snack-time recipes off Pinterest and swapping pregnancy stories like some of the guys he used to know in prison did scar stories.

Some of the shit he accidentally overhears makes him want to cringe in horror. He’d butted in once, unable to contain a horrified, “That can happen?” and they’d giggled at him in a way that made him feel like he was back in high school and had just embarrassed himself in front of the popular girls.

When Rey’s mother was pregnant she’d still lived at home with her parents. It was her mom, and to a lesser degree Leia, who’d done all that pregnancy stuff with her. Ultrasounds and doctor visits. He’d tried going shopping for baby clothes with her a couple of times, but somehow it always managed to end in a stupid fight. Like every other fucking thing they did together.

The week Rey was due he’d run off in his dad’s old van, overwhelmed with fear at the responsibility of it all, desperate to escape what felt like the end of his life. By the time his dad and his uncle finally tracked him down and dragged him back, Rey was already home from the hospital.

“You’re the one who got yourself into this mess, kid.” He can still feel his dad’s hand heavy on his shoulder, marching him up to the door like he was a kid who’d just broken the neighbor’s window. At the time, it had felt like a death sentence.

On the last day of school before winter break, 3:30 hits and he waits, hands fisted in his coat pockets and breath frosting the air, while kids trickle out. They’re all wrapped up in their puffy winter jackets, the kindergartners looking like little marshmallows with legs. A sea of colorful bobble hats stampede around his knees as their moms herd them off.

“They have parts on the back called the stabilizers and they can fly this- look- this close-” He hears Rey before he sees her, gushing about her new favorite thing this week, the Blue Angels. They’d watched a couple of videos on YouTube after he told her how his grandpa and his uncle both used to fly with them, and she’d been hooked.

“Really? That sounds very dangerous.”

Ever since The Incident, Mr. Hux had taken to walking her out of the school building most days. Today, in concession- or maybe it’s in surrender- to the holidays, he’s decked out in a pastel green shirt and a festive tie.

Ben crosses his arms as Hux steers Rey straight to him.

“Time for the prisoner transfer,” Ben says, setting a serious look on his face. Rey rolls her eyes at him, but he’s rewarded when her teacher huffs a little laugh.

“She’s your responsibility for the next two weeks,” Hux says, matching his tone.

“I’ll rough her up if there are any problems.” Ben ruffles Rey’s hair with one large hand.

“Hey!” she yelps.

Hux laughs, and Ben is suddenly aware, with a low sinking in his stomach, that this is the last time he’ll see him until after New Years. Somehow, he’s kinda gotten used to exchanging hellos every afternoon.

“So Hux, you have any big plans for the holidays?”

“Christmas. Family. The usual.”

“Wow, don’t sound too excited,” Ben deadpans, then inwardly cringes. That’s the kind of tacky shit his dad would say.

“Is anyone our age excited to spend a week with their parents?” Hux replies mildly, and Ben can take a hint when he quickly changes the subject. “What about you two? This is your  first Christmas together, I believe.”

There had been a couple of holidays when Rey was a baby, before he got arrested. The three of them together like a real family. They usually ended in shouting, and anyway Rey’s too young to remember them. He doesn’t count those. “Yeah, first one. Uh...” he says, “Probably food and presents. Normal family stuff.”

It’s still weird to say, but something about it makes him want to smile. Family stuff. Their family.

“We have a tree!” Rey interrupts with a little bounce. The yarn ball on top of her hat gives an excited wobble.

“I’m glad,” Hux says. He never used that fake ‘adults talking to little kids’ voice. It was something Ben liked about him. “Christmas isn’t the same without a tree.”

“It’s tiny. I think it’s a midget. But it’s really green and it smells like Christmas.”

Ben tries not to laugh and fails. “Rey...”

It was a dinky thing, one of those dwarf trees from the 24-hour grocery store, but it was real and Rey was crazy about it. She’d never had a tree that wasn’t made out of plastic before.

“This is going to be so better than last year!” She’d babbled, bouncing around the cart holding their tiny tree as he pushed it out of the store. “We didn’t even have a tree last year because mom forgot to get one, even though I reminded her like every day. All we had was Oscar’s stupid ugly wreath made out of beer cans. We didn’t even have lights.”

Ben had decided then that next year he was going to start saving up earlier and they’d go to one of those tree farms and he’d let her pick out the biggest one they could find.

“Have you decorated it yet?”

“Yeah! Show the pictures!” Rey latches on to Ben’s arm, clinging and letting her feet dangle. She’s small for her age, and skinny. It’s no trouble to lift her with one arm. “Pictuuuures,” she whines.

“She took about ten thousand pictures of this sad little Charlie Brown tree with my phone,” Ben says to Hux, apologetic.

“I’d love to see them.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Somehow Ben ends up standing beside Hux, holding out his phone, with Rey crammed warm in between them while she swipes through Christmas tree pictures, offering little comments on each one. Hux actually seems interested in it, asking Rey questions and huddling closer to Ben for warmth. Hux isn’t wearing a jacket. Ben can feel the way he’s holding himself stiff against the chill.

Ben shifts to the side so that he can shield them both from the worst of the cold breeze when the wind picks up.

“Alright munchkin, we gotta go,” he says finally, “Mister Hux is going to freeze.”

“Okay, bye, mister Hux!” Rey beams. “Have a good Christmas!”

“You too, Rey.”

“Bye, Armitage.” He didn’t mean it to sound teasing. It still felt weird to call the teacher by his first name. Ben tended to ration it, like a secret treat.

“Ben,” Hux nods in return.

“Hey, nice tie, by the way,” he calls back they turn to leave. Okay, that one he meant to be teasing. The thing was red and green and covered in bright cartoon Christmas trees. Glittery ones. Ben’s pretty sure he saw that tie for sale at Walmart.

“Thank you,” Hux’s jaw is stiff. He looks like he is trying very hard not to either sigh or roll his eyes. It’s the look of defeat. “My class got it for me.”

[geeky-galpal]

Happy Birthday, Regina Mills

Regina’s birthday was February 1st, and I had this fic in my head: Regina and Maleficent having sex on her office desk to celebrate.

Sadly, life got a little in the way, and it took me longer to get to it than originally expected. Luckily, it’s still February for a few more days at least. Soo... consider this a belated birthday present?

4K words and 2.5K of those words are pure desk sex. Before and after the smut, be weary of some angst.

If I’ve still kept you interested, read at AO3 here or below the cut! 

TW: brief mentions anxiety and panic atacks, at the beginning and end of the fic.

(as always, my gratitude to @oparu who is the greatest beta and quite possibly the greatest human walking this planet, more broadly)

February 1st.

Regina swipes the date on her phone’s home screen and rolls her eyes.  She had gone out of her way, for once, finally, to mark her birthday as special. She had cleared her schedule. She even relented after some insistent prodding and allowed Henry the day off from school. They were going to continue their decade-plus tradition of funny face pancakes and this year, in honor of it being their first collective birthday spent with Maleficent in the house, add to it by spending the entire day together teaching Mal the finer points of the Skywalker Saga.

 She was supposed to not had to take off her pajamas or comb her hair. It was supposed to be the three of them. Perhaps, a phone call to the Charmings in the afternoon, a FaceTime with her sister and niece. Quiet. Peace for 24 hours. That was all she wanted. AND STILL THE UNIVERSE SAW FIT TO DENY HER.

 Fitting.

 It’s fitting that just as Maleficent woke her up before the sun rose and the first bird chirp, determined to start their day together naked and wrapped in each other, warm beneath her down comforter-- just then the main line pipes would freeze and break open in the mines. It’s fitting that as she was climbing her way to the most delicious of orgasms, clenched around Mal’s fingers and mouth on her breasts-- that’s when her phone buzzed with Emma’s voice on the other end.

 “Happy Birthday, Regina. I, ugh, I freaking hate this. I do. But, well,…. ”

 For everything she has done and the pain she has inflicted time and again in her life, it’s fitting that she wouldn’t be granted this moment of peace.

 She earned this karma the hard way. It was her price to pay.

 She rolls her neck from side to side. On top of everything else, she really shouldn’t be spending the day lost in the depths of self-loathing. But, that is her way, wasn’t it? One thing piles on another and she takes it all.  It’s barely noon and her back is one giant knot. Everything hurts.

 She slides her chair away from the desk and tries the deep breathing exercises she has been practicing with Dr. Hopper.  Posture straight, feet planted, air in through the nose, in to her diaphragm, hold for 5 seconds and push it back out through her mouth. 1…. Breath in,  2…. Hold it, Hold it, 3…. Out through pursed lips, like a balloon letting out air, 4.... Again.

 Fuck.

 This isn’t working.  This is the start of another long, dark, bad afternoon. She just knows it. It’s not full blown yet, but she knows her symptoms. The weight between her shoulder blades is crushing, the tightness in her stomach and chest that twists on itself. At the realization of what’s to come, her heart starts to speed a little, skipping beats out of rhythm. It’s a train coming right towards her and she can’t seem to find her way off the tracks.

 She should call someone. She should, at the very least, not be alone.  Dr. Hooper has been working with her on this. She’s deserving of love, others will be willing to support her, that’s what he would say right now. And it’s her birthday after all.

 Mal pops into the front of her mind.  Mal cozy at home with Henry on the couch. They decided not to watch the movies without her, but Henry had somehow successfully persuaded his way out of school for the day regardless.  They are probably indulging in some truly bad cable television right now. Or maybe a game of chess, Maleficent has been teaching him the finer points of the game recently. He hadn’t beaten either of the yet-- but with each game he was getting sharper, closer…

 She grips the phone in her hand. OK, it’s ok. You can ask for help from your family. This isn’t weakness. This isn’t defeat.

 She flits the phone between her fingers, shaking her legs and tapping her heels against the floor. She worries her lip a little and works up the strength to tap the call button.

 “BBBZZZZZ…. Mayor Mills, you have a lunch appointment”, her receptionist interrupts her thoughts on the intercom.

 She leans over and taps the button: “I can assure you, that as I was NOT supposed to be in work at all today, I have no such thing”

 Then, she hears Henry’s laugh.

 Her heart leaps at the sound. She doesn’t know exactly what’s happening, but if Henry is about to barrel in here, she needed to take these last seconds and at least wipe the tears that were threatening the creases of her eyes.

 She stood up and smoothed dress, just in time for the door to open. Henry, jovial and bundled up from the cold, his nose and cheeks flushed despite the stripped scarf he has wrapped tight. Not more than two steps behind him comes strolling Maleficent, her grey trench coat buttoned to the top, leather gloves clutching… is that a picnic basket? Of all things?

 “What in the world??? How? HOW?” Her voice cracks a little, as she fights back against the rollercoaster of emotion battling inside of her.

 “Hey Mom! Did we surprise you? We got you good, huh?” He turns to Mal and then back to her, smiling wide his eyes dancing, “I Told You She Wouldn’t Expect it!”

 She plasters a smile on her face to match her son’s and Henry comes into her arms, tucking his head down on to her shoulder.  Her eyes meet Maleficent’s. Crap. Mal isn’t buying this rouse for a second. Regina immediately can tell, she knows. 

 Still, by the time Henry pulls away and faces them both again, their silent moment interrupted, Mal has already steeled her face back to neutral. And for that Regina is supremely grateful.

 She sets the picnic basket down on the table as if nothing has happened, removes her gloves, and claps her hands together. “Young Mister Mills here started planning this little escapade almost immediately after you left this morning. We had hoped that by lunch you would have gotten the worst of the emergency under control…”

 “I called Granny’s and had her put away three orders of roasted butternut squash soup, two bacon grilled cheeses, and a salad before she set the diner up for the lunch rush. And then I went over to Grandma’s and borrowed the basket and picnic blanket! After that, things pretty much took care of themselves. OH! Doc’s Dime Store had the plastic spoons and forks and stuff. We also got these…” Henry pulls out the most juvenile birthday hats that Regina has ever seen.

 There seems to be three of them stacked on top of each other, turquoise with red pom-poms on the top and gold fringe along the sides. Each with different cartoon animals printed on the front. A lion, an elephant, and a monkey, from what she can see. Henry is nearly bouncing up and down like a jackrabbit as he unpacks the basket. He’s taller than her now but in this moment she can see him- and he is still 5 years old. Pure kinetic energy.

 Mal takes two of hats out of Henry’s hands and stretches the elastic of one of them around her head, leaving the tip a bit askew atop of her blonde hair, slicked back into a bun. She looks positively ridiculous, particularly because she is taking herself so seriously.

 “It was explained to me that these head pieces are traditional for marking birthdays in this realm”

 “Yes, they are…. For small children”, Regina cuts her eyes at Henry. To his credit, the boy holds out a full two beats before laughing. She can’t help it, she laughs along with him. For the first time since this morning, she can feel tension begin to genuinely leave her body. The joke slowly dawns on Maleficent, and she joins in.

 “Ah, I see. Well, nevertheless,” Maleficent dramatically bows before her, the other cone hat outstretched as an offering in her hand. “Your Majesty.”

 Regina curtsies before accepting her cone-shaped “crown”, fixing it to her head. She bends down to grab Maleficent’s face in her hands, pulling her up for a chaste kiss. Well… mostly chaste. She hears Henry clearing his throat before they break apart.

 Her not-so-little boy is smoothing out their blanket on the floor and organizing their lunch containers. She sees him reaching into the basket with a mischievous smile, pulling out a box of chocolate frosted donuts. Their special treat. One of them, it seems, comes with a singular birthday candle.

 “So mom, are you going to take off your heels and join us on the floor? Or are you too busy for Operation: Yogi Bear?”

 “Yogi Bear?”

 Henry smiles broadly, “Yeah, remember, from the cartoon? Because he eats all the picnic baskets.”

 Regina once again feels tears pricking at her eyes, and she can only hope that they are seen to Henry as tears of joy. They came to her aid, a fierce dragon and brave Prince. Her own little band of heroes. They didn’t even know they were saving her, but they came anyway.

 And in that brief moment, Regina is sure she has never felt more cherished or loved.

An hour later, they had finished their picnic.  Laughter and the comfort of soup brought the welcome respite that Regina needed; she had even convinced Mal into a joking foot rub as they all exchanged donut bites And those few extra hugs from Henry before he left to answer the call of his yet un-played video games at home really hit the spot. For just a little while, it was the three of them in their own bubble, away from the world.  

 But now, their little bubble has popped.  Maleficent is cleaning up their mess and Regina finds herself once again fighting that aching feeling in her stomach. She reels at the thought of the rest of her paperwork, threatening to drown her, and endless stream of phone calls that await her. Her anxiety rising.

 Regina can feel Maleficent looking at her, tilting her head as she decides how to best approach.

 “Do you want to talk about it yet?”

 Regina demurs, tucking loose strands of her hair behind her left ear. She goes to her desk and busies herself stacking and restacking her papers, hoping that Mal will drop it. She couldn’t ask for more from her, she… just couldn’t. Not after everything Maleficent had already done.

 Mal sets aside the rest of the takeout containers and rises to join her, bending over the desk just enough so that her long elegant fingers still Regina’s wrists, holding firm.

 “Do you want to NOT talk about it?”

 Oh.

 That.

 Well, yes.  That is something she could use right now. A way to release her anxieties, a body to work her frustrations out against. That is what Maleficent is offering. She doesn’t have to talk, she can just be. Maleficent will do this for her.

 Her pulse is already starting to thud for an entirely different reason at just the thought. She licks her lips and whispers, “Lock the door”.

 “Oh, and. before you do, tell my receptionist to take the half day.” Regina’s stomach goes hot as she waits for Mal to return.

 She has no idea what she said to Brooke, but when she re-enters the room, Maleficent is positively wolfish.  The mood between them already changed, the air thick with anticipation. Mal bares her teeth more than she smiles in Regina’s direction.

 “Now, that’s taken care of. There’s no one around”, she locks the door with a flick of her wrists and glides back across to where Regina is perched against her desk.

 “If you only knew …” she uses her full lips to pull at the skin of Regina’s neck, “how many times I’ve wanted to have you right here, on this desk”. Mal’s lips go from probing kisses to prolonged sucks, dancing against her pulse. Regina hums as she continues, “You have no idea…. How many times I have wanted to just bend you over…”, Mal reaches behind her then, grabbing her ass, “…and have my way with you.”

 Regina whimpers at the thought, pressing and releasing her thighs together for friction as she feels her wetness build.  Damn, she didn’t think she would be this wet this quickly.

 “So you’ve fantasized about this, before? Whose birthday present is this supposed to be, anyway?”

 “You’d rather I leave and let you work?”, Mal teases while her hands travel up and down the curve of Regina’s ass, caressing the hem of her dress.

 Regina pushes her away mockingly, “Don’t. You. DARE.” She laughs as she lets Mal lift her properly onto the desk. She ruches her dress up and wraps her legs around her waist, pulling them closer together until they are flesh against each other and Maleficent is groaning against her neck.

 They stay there together, making out like teenagers as opposed to old lovers, tasting each other’s skin and swallowing each other’s sounds, limbs intertwined. Soon, Regina’s hands are traveling underneath Mal’s blouse, growing firmer with each pass, making their way to her front, where she begins to knead her gently over her bra.

 Maleficent pulls back, smirking as she begins to unbutton her shirt. Regina leans back to watch, breath ragged, hands firm behind her on the desk.

 Then she reaches forward, entranced, trailing one finger against Mal’s soft skin, as it is exposed, button-by-button.

 Mal exhales a breath that Regina hadn’t realized she was holding and the quiet sound of it only spurs Regina on. Her mouth moves to replace the feather-lite caresses of her finger, forging a new path of kisses from one swell of breast to another. Her teeth catch the bra strap on Mal’s shoulder, pulling it further and further down, before letting it snap back against her. Regina’s lips never stopping their work, massaging the smart new red mark she caused from pulling the elastic.

 Mal moans at the sensation and reaches down, placing a warm palm against her cheek and Regina moves to kiss it, taking in the comfort it offers.

 “Thank you, for this. You are so beautiful,” Regina whispers into her skin. She reaches behind to unhook the clasp of Mal’s bra, sliding the garment off and blindly throwing it to the side. Running her hands against the warmth of Mal’s back, she focuses her efforts on the taught nipples in front of her, sucking and pulling at them with her tongue until she can hear panting above her and feel Mal’s nails digging at her shoulders. The sharp sensation causing Regina’s hips to roll instinctively.

 Maleficent must have caught the change in movement, because she adjusts an arm down between them, allowing her hand to rub over Regina’s crotch. Regina releases Mal’s breast from her mouth moans, deep and throaty. Mal’s presses harder and rubs again. Slow, firm passes. Up and down, gathering the wetness in her panties. Regina’s hips begin rocking into the touch, widening her knees as much as her dress will allow, granting Mal better access. Her eyes drop to watch the movement as Mal continues to rub, and Fffuck that feels good. It feel so good, so good, it’s the exact pressure she needs. Her breath hitches.

 “Tsk, my little queen, you are so wet, aren’t you?” Regina doesn’t feel a need to respond; she knows Mal already has her answer. Maleficent bends down and licks the shell of her ear, “Tell me, Regina. What do you want?”

 Mal’s fingers zero in on her clit, toying and playing with it through the fabric of her underwear. Her thighs are trembling. “How can I make you come, right here, on your desk? Tell me.”

 She could come like this. Just like this, if given a few minutes longer.  And, if Mal insists on talking like that, well, she might never remember how to string together words into a sentence ever again. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips as she tries to catch her breath.

 But, even that moment of relief was short lived as Maleficent moves to nip at her neck and--- FUCK. Slip a finger beneath her panties, ghosting around her entrance as she continues to leave a wet trail of kisses over her shoulder and…

 This isn’t fair. Mal isn’t playing by the rules.

 “I…. I... I want your mouth,” Regina finally puffs out. And with a sudden burst of strength she didn’t know she had left, she found herself disentangling from Mal, just for a moment, so that she can stand, even if on very shaky legs.

 She catches Maleficent’s eyes, watching her bite her lip as she reaches to unzip her dress. They get rid of the clothing together, dropping it onto the rug beneath them. Mal’s fingers hook into the sides of her panties, dragging them down her legs until she able to kick them off.  Then her bra.

 She’s pushed back on to the top of the desk, a little roughly actually, but she rushes to assure Mal that it is ok. Nothing’s wrong. She wants it just like this.

 Her nipples are hard, and Mal presses them with her thumbs and forefingers-- squeezing lightly, giving gentle, twisting tugs that have Regina inhaling deeply and squirming.

 For a minute, they just allow themselves to kiss, enjoying having connection with one another. Hot and heady, tongues sliding, breath quickening, teeth clashing before they break into smiles against each other’s lips. Intimate. Mal gives her one last deep kiss, before making her way down.

 She closes her eyes as Mal starts planting kisses around her navel, dropping slow tortuous kisses all over her lower stomach. Then from hip bone to hip bone, pressing her tongue in against soft skin that makes Regina moan, “God. Keep. GOING”. Sweet presses of lip and warm, wet swirls of her tongue across the tops of Regina’s thighs before finally, mercifully, heading towards her clit.

 Regina lifts her upper body up a bit, using her arms as back support for her shaking abs. The strain is worth it; the sight of Maleficent between her thighs always makes it worth it. She watches as Mal slowly kisses closer and closer to where Regina is so needy for her. SO CLOSE, she just needs her tongue a quarter inch down and left.

 And she knows that Mal knows this. Mal knows her body better than anyone, in any realm. She’s doing this on purpose- to torture her.

 As if on cue, Mal chuckles against her before sliding her tongue just where Regina was silently begging for it, running wetly along her throbbing clit before she narrows her tongue into a flicking sensation as she licks. Regina exhales, jerking her lips towards her.

 Another slow lick across where she is so sensitive, so ready, and another sharp flick. Regina whines before she can stop herself, laying back and mussing her fingers into Mal’s hair.

 “You’re that close already?? Really?”

 Regina pinches the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed shut. “What do you think? After everything you’ve put me through??”

 Mal pulls her head away slightly, enough to look up at Regina with feigned innocence.  Her already deep-set green eyes gone purposefully doe-like and blinking.

 Regina bites back laughter, but otherwise doesn’t dignify the fake incredulous with a response. She dances her nails back along Mal’s scalp and tips her mouth back down on her. Mal’s palms once again settle at the hinge of her thighs, before sliding down to spread her even more, giving Mal more direct access to her clit. Regina lifts her hips forward a little. Mal flattens her tongue, lapping steadily at the sensitive knot now fully exposed to her. Regina absorbs every fire-bolt of pleasure as it radiates out from where her tongue touches, spreading down her thighs, up her belly, to her fingertips and toes.

 Mal moans softly against her, the vibration of it makes Regina’s thighs clench. God, she loves this woman. She loves everything about her- especially now. There has never been a moment when she was between her legs that Maleficent hasn’t made Regina feel like the most desirable woman in the world. Not one. It’s as true today as it was all those years ago.

 Mal looks at her then, as if she can read her mind. Hell, after the many years they have spent together- perhaps she can.

 “You are truly incredible,” she moves her hands to slowly glide over Regina’s belly, one arm gently wrapping around Regina’s waist to pull her closer to the desk’s edge while the other slips between her thighs.  She’s stroking her, palming the wetness of her lips between her fingers as she lightly toys with her clit.  Nothing too intense- for the moment- but enough for Regina’s eyelids to flutter and pleasure to skate through.

 Then from the corner of her eyes, Regina sees that the wolfish grin has returned.

 Maleficent grips her thighs and pushes them higher, bending Regina nearly in two, the stretch of it just this edge of unpleasant. Her tongue slides lower, circling her opening and then entering her. The strong, fluttering pleasure of it is less precise than the attention to her clit, but it never fails to set her off all the same. Her stomach clenches, her shoulders grind against the wood of her desk, her fists clenching and unclenching without anything to hold on to. Her neck is going flush and -----oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck----

 That’s it. Mal is fucking her with her tongue in earnest now, Regina reflexively pumping her hips to match her thrusts. And then Mal’s thumb finds Regina’s clit again, rubbing it roughly and a bit raw and God, this is good. Hmmmhmm. So good. Mal’s pressing harder with her thumb now, tighter circles, and Regina feels it- she’s going to come, she’s FUCK she’s right on the edge--

 Then Mal replaces her tongue with two of her fingers, pressed inside just where she knows Regina needs it. Regina vaguely hears past her own thudding heartbeat to Mal’s comment about how wet she is before pulling out and adding a third. All she can do is nod. Because she is, she is so wet.  And she feels amazing. And so ready for what’s about to come. And she and Mal have had a lot of adventurous sex in their lifetimes, but this moment- spread naked on the edge of her desk in the middle of the afternoon, practically dripping onto her own carpet as Mal fucks her three fingers deep- this is definitely shooting right to the top of their metaphorical “Greatest Hits” list.

 Regina’s breasts rise and fall as she struggles to catch her breath. Mal’s tongue is back on her clit, licking in time with the rhythm she is setting with her fingers. And then Mal wraps her lips around Regina’s clit and sucks as deeply as she can. Her fingers firm as they thrust in-and-out. Just like that Regina’s orgasm takes her.

 EVERYTHING is on fire and yet she is trembling.  Her hips buck, stuttering out of rhythm and her head snaps back with a loud moan against her desk. Fireworks, exploding off of every nerve ending. Her mouth falls into a slacked O as Mal continues to pump her through the jolts of pleasure that are consuming her, extending her sensations out just a bit. Then, finally, Mal lowers her legs and moves her mouth to kiss the tender skin of Regina’s abdomen, her fingers slowing- but not leaving her- as Regina comes back down from her high.

 Pleasure burns through her. She lifts her forearm to cover her eyes and can’t decide if she wants to laugh or cry. She’s stuck somewhere between the two. She feels utterly spent. Her throat scratchy and her back already beginning to ache from the unrelenting stiff, wooden desk surface.

 Mal raises herself from between her legs and together they both collapse, Mal’s long frame weighing on Regina’s torso.  She’s safe with Mal, like this. Her twisting anxiety exhausted, defeated. Replaced with heavy, relaxed limbs and deep meditative breaths. For a few long minutes, all they do is listen to the slowing of each other’s pulse. Hands rubbing soothingly up each other’s sides.

 She can feel Mal smirk against her skin, “Well... that was quite the lunch”

 Regina rolls her eyes at the innuendo.

 Mal sits up, tracing her fingers along Regina’s stomach. Regina smiles, curling in to the touch,  “So my love, do you want to talk about what happened today?”

 Regina sighs. “It’s just... “ she can already feel her eyes tearing up, “I feel silly saying this, but I felt so alone. It’s not just the work, or having to come in on my birthday, those are objectively small things.”

 “It’s that you finally allowed yourself to be celebrated in a way that felt honest to you, for just a moment. And--“ she waves her hands in the air. “All of this happening felt like affirmation that you didn’t deserve it.”

 Regina lays her head in Mal’s lap, allowing Mal to play with the edges of her hair, “You understand.”

 “Mmhmmm. I doubt there are few who understand that particular pain better than I do. We are similar in many ways; you and I. We’ve been broken. And as such, we built walls, fed isolation. We have made others to feel the pain we feel. We... enabled each other through a lot of that, I regret... And now... now, we are trying to learn to heal those wounds.” She pauses, “It’s a long way back from these mistakes. I know that I haven’t figured it all out yet, and you haven’t either.”

 Regina silently nods, in agreement.

 “But, little one?

 “Hmm?”

 “This, I know is important: This long journey you are on. You are not on it alone.”