#this is probably the heaviest this fic is going to get

[sionnaach]

tw: referenced suicide (skip the first person part if this is too much for you)

3, 2, 1

[raptorrobot]

It's Here . Get The Fuck Ready

[anika-ann]

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 7,3k

Summary:  It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.  

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.    

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie.  Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.  

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.  

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading 🤭 if you did, please consider leaving feedback and reblogging💕

I hope July has been kind to you!

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[educatedsimps]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I just had to stop by! Could I request a (not exactly angst bc the idea is funny but definitely in character for him) Bokuto x reader where he's ranting to a friend about how he loves to hug the reader and his friend just makes an offhand comment about how he'll probably crush her since he's a pretty big guy and he goes all emo mode about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone :( Obviously we gotta add some comfort at the end for the silly guy

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō  x f!reader

a/n: omg of course!! i haven't had the chance to write for bokuto and yes i agree this is literally perfect for him 🥰

cw: timeskip spoilers, atsumu being stupid, some hurt/comfort, msby crack

"I can’t wait to go home after this. I’m exhausted," Sakusa sighed.

"It’s not useful practice if it’s not exhausting, Omi-Omi. Be glad you’ve got teammates like us," Atsumu drawled, winking at his teammate and earning a disgusted glare from across the table.

"I thought today’s practice was fun! We got to try the new unorthodox version of our quick attack, and we've almost got it!" Hinata chirped next to Atsumu, with bits of his food flying from his mouth.

"I'm fine with it as long as you guys don't overexert yourselves during training," Lisa, Atsumu's girlfriend and the team's physiotherapist, chimed in from Atsumu's other side.

"What are you guys planning to do when you get home?" Meian asked, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth.

"Shower," was Sakusa's immediate answer.

"Probably do a little bit of meditation," Hinata mused.

"Call my brother to ask for more meal prep bentos," Atsumu said. An amused scoff came from his girlfriend.

"What about you, Bokuto?"

Having been focused on his food the whole time, Bokuto nearly choked on his rice when called upon by his captain. With tempura crumbs coating his lips, he smiled widely and announced, "I'm going home to give y/n a big hug!"

"You sure love hugging y/n, Bokuto-san!" Hinata chuckled, popping a salmon nigiri in his mouth.

"Of course I do! I love hugging her! She's so huggable and I just wanna squeeze her so tight all the time and transfer all of my love for her," Bokuto said, with with his fists in the air. "You guys should all hug your girlfriends tight! The tighter you hug her the more she'll know you love her!"

Shooting Lisa a lovesick smile, Atsumu stated, "We all love hugging our girlfriends, but I won't accidentally crush 'er to bits like someone." He nodded towards Bokuto.

Bokuto stilled, staring at Atsumu with confusion.

"Miya..." Meian warned under his breath.

"What? I mean, have ya seen the guy? He's huge! Could prob'ly flatten 'er if he wanted to," Atsumu continued, chortling at the thought. He stopped short as he noticed the glares from Meian and Sakusa. "What? What'd I say?"

By then, Bokuto was already in a completely different headspace. He had a blank expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his usually spiky hair seemed to droop at the edges.

Sakusa sighed what was probably the heaviest sigh in the history of mankind as Hinata stage-whispered to his teammate, "Atsumu-san, I think you hurt Bokuto's feelings."

Wide eyed, the blonde setter started to defend himself. "WHA-?! no, i- I DIDN'T EVEN-"

Sensing Bokuto's incoming emotinal shut down (or emotional episode, in this case), Lisa quickly tried to divert their attention. "Please, 'Tsumu. You wish you were as strong as Bokuto-san. Your spikes are weak as shit-"

" 'Cause I'm literally a setter!"

"-and not an all-rounder, which is why Kageyama-kun is ranked first in the country and you're second."

"BABE-"

"Maybe I shouldn't hug her anymore. I don't wanna hurt her. What if I really crush her one day? Then she'll really be flattened like a piece of bread. I don't wanna hurt her. So this means I can't hug her anymore. But I like hugging her. But does she even like my hugs?" Came Bokuto's voice. His brows were now furrowed and his face was etched with worry.

"Of course she does, Bokuto-san! I'm sure she loves your hugs, and you love her too much to ever hurt her, right?" Hinata and Lisa attempted to cheer up the saddened spiker.

Finishing the last of his food, Sakusa stood up, muttering, "I'm exhausted, I can't deal with this right now. My partner's here to pick me up anyway," As he walked past the other side of the table, he spoke to Atsumu in a low voice. "Only a jerk like you would say something like that to Bokuto, of all people."

"SHUT UP, OMI.”

"I’m home…"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto’s voice and you immediately noticed his dejected tone. Closing your laptop, you got up from your desk and bounced over to the front door to greet him.

Sticking your head round the corner, you saw him place his stuff down by the counter before staring into space. His face was blank and devoid of emotion but his eyes were filled with inexplicable sadness. Seeing him like this tugged on your heartstrings and you knew he was going through one of his emotional episodes. You just didn’t know why.

"Hey, Kō! How was your day?" Slowly walking towards him, you reached out your arms to give him a hug but stopped short when he cried out.

"NO, DON’T HUG ME. I’LL CRUSH YOU."

You froze with your arms mid-air before you dropped them back to your side. He had one hand held out to stop you from coming closer and his face was tucked into his other arm. You could hear quiet sniffles coming from him and your heart broke seeing how upset he was.

"But you already have a crush on me, baby. And I have a crush on you too! I thought we’ve already established that?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. It was like he didn’t even hear you, so you decided to give him some space (like Akaashi had advised). You guided him to sit on the couch while you went about the house finishing up your chores. After several minutes, he seemed to feel a little better and you decided to talk to him (also like Akaashi had advised).

Sitting by his side on the couch, you reached out and held his hands in your own. His eyes were downcast and he was avoiding your gaze as if his life depended on it.

"Kō? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, baby. Please? I wanna see your cute face," you cooed. He pouted for a while more (which was adorable, by the way) before he finally caved.

"Tsum-Tsum said I'll crush you if I hug you too tight 'cause I'm so much bigger and stronger than you. And I don't wanna crush you, I promise! It just made me sacred to think I might not know my own strength and end up hurting you in the process. That's why I'm scared of accidentally hurting you when I’m excited and I know that if I did, you wouldn't say anything which is why I don't wanna accidentally hurt you with my hugs in the first place-" He swallowed the rest of his words as you pressed your lips to his.

"Kō, I love your hugs. They're the warmest hugs anyone has ever given me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes your hugs are even better than hers," You giggled softly. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at you. "And it's not a bad thing that you're so strong. It makes your arms really nice to hug! I promise you'll never be able to crush me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?"

"Really? You really like my hugs?" He asked, hope in his eyes.

"Really. A hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. I wouldn't like it any other way, Kō," You reassured him, kissing him sweetly once more. Within seconds, his entire mood had shifted and he was now beaming.

"Okay! I can hug you now!" He cheered. Before you could process anything, you were held in your favourite set of arms and wrapped up in the warmest hug on earth. You hugged him back tightly and felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Snuggling into his warmth, you felt so lucky to have him.

"Oh my god, anyone who says your hugs aren't perfect are clearly stupid," You sighed happily.

"Tsum-Tsum is pretty stupid sometimes," Kotaro hummed.

You pulled away, gasping in faux shock. "Really?"

"Pfft, yeah. Even Lisa says so!" He guffawed.

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Lisa: “hey girl! hope everything’s ok with bokuto. my boyfriend’s kinda stupid sometimes so he doesn’t think before he says stuff. hope bokuto’s not feeling too down!”

Y/n: “it’s all good! managed to cheer him up pretty quickly today, haha”

Lisa: “that’s good to hear. you’re the only one who can cheer him up like that, y/n! anyway, rest well, you two. see ya next week!”

Reacting to her message with a heart, you put your phone down and turned back to your boyfriend.

"So, you gonna hug me or not?"

a/n: UM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY??? pls lmk what u think 😭

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[shiorimakibawrites]

Mo Ghrá (Kin Fan Fic)

Words: ~1500 Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Summary: You're on your period and you miss Mikey. Warning: Period symptoms, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, pumpkin obsession Masterlist / A03 Tags: @bellaxgiornata, @shouldbestudying41, @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92

This little story interrupted the writing of "Bound". Guess Mikey wanted a little attention.

Thanks to @shouldbestudying41 for the title suggestion.

Mo Ghrá

You were on the couch, trying to find a position that was comfortable. It was a struggle. Your abdomen was in favor of the fetal position. Your lower back disagreed. Vehemently. Right now you were seeing if on your side, pillows supporting your back and heating pad pressed against your belly, would work.

You hoped so. You were so tired. You had gotten, maybe, two hours of sleep last night. If you added it all up. Yesterday hadn’t been much better. You had called off work, knowing there was no way you were hauling your ass into the office. Not today.

After failing for umpteenth time to find a comfortable position on your bed, you had given up on it. The couch wasn’t much of an improvement. Best thing you could say is that it wasn’t covered in sheets that smelled like stale sweat. You needed to change your bedding but that sounded like far too much work today . . . maybe, if you got lucky, you’d find the energy to fix that before attempting to sleep tonight.

You wished Michael was here. You wanted to bury your face in his chest hair while he rubbed your back with those large, warm hands. You wanted his voice softly murmuring into your hair. But you stayed at your place last night and yesterday night. Like an idiot. You didn’t know what Past You had been thinking. Probably some nonsense about needing to spend some time at your own place since you were still paying rent . . .

But you were also glad that Michael wasn’t here. Because you felt gross. You had scrapped up just enough energy for a shower this morning. But it was the second day of your period. When you had the worst cramps and the heaviest bleeding. So it didn’t take long for the refreshed, clean feeling to disappear.

You whimpered when another cramp ripped through your abdomen. The painkillers were wearing off. Granted, the ibuprofen was barely dulling your cramp pain. And it did absolutely nothing for your headache . . . But it was all you had. In a minute, you would get up and take more. Refill your water bottle while you were up. In a minute . . .

The knock on the door startled you. You weren’t expecting any company. Michael had mentioned something about running errands when you had called him to cancel your lunch date. Another disappointment, you had been looking forward to that date . . . you weren’t going anywhere special. Just the little cafe that you two had discovered that had really good coffee. Really good everything actually. Anna liked it too . . .

Another knock alerted you to that you had gone woolgathering instead of getting up and answering the door. It was tempting to pretend not to be home. But curiosity won out. Reminding yourself that you needed more medicine and water anyway, you wiggled out of your blanket cocoon and stood up.

Your abdomen protested the loss of the heating pad with an enormous cramp. The kind that made you double-up and brought tears to your eyes. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. You slowly straightened back up, then shuffled just as slowly toward the door. You reached it just as a third knock came. Whoever this person was, they were persistent.

You unlocked and opened the door to discover Michael standing here, a soft smile on his handsome, bearded face. “There ya are, pet. I was startin’ to think I had missed ya.”

“Mikey!” you said, torn between delight and embarrassment. You were happy to see him, of course, but you were also a mess. Crazy hair still wet from the shower, wearing old sweats, oversized tee shirt, and one of his hoodies. The one that you had shamelessly stolen from his house the last time you were over there.

Your unattractive messiness felt especially stark today. Michael’s hair and beard was neatly combed. He was wearing jeans, the ones that displayed just how fine that very fine ass of his was. And that sage green sweater that you had bought him, that really brought out those little flecks of green in his eyes, peeked out from under his jacket.

“I thought you were busy today?” You said.

“Just a few things,” he said. “Can I come in, pet? The coffee's gettin’ cold.”

“Coffee?” you repeated, suddenly realizing that one of his hands was occupied. In it was a drink carrier with two coffees in it. Coffees with the name of the little shop written across the cups. You also noticed a small white bag with the same logo dangling from that wrist. A bag that smelled like fresh-baked pumpkin bread.

Your mouth watered. You hadn’t eaten much today. Just lacked the energy and had been vaguely nauseous. You had nibbled on a cereal bar with some tea hoping that it would stay down. It did. But the nausea remained and nothing sounded appealing . . . not until your nose caught a whiff of that pumpkin.

“Pumpkin bread?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “And yer pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really?!”

“I know ya love yer pumpkin,” he said.

He was right. You loved pumpkin. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin cookies. Pumpkin spice coffee. One of your favorite things about autumn was all the pumpkin things you could find. Michael had teased you about it, said it was very American. You had retorted that his snobbiness about whiskey was very Irish of him.

Remembering that he was still standing on your doorstep and it was a rather brisk autumn day, you moved to the side and ushered him inside. You watched him move through your living room. Particularly when he bent down to put the coffees down on the little table. As predicted, his ass looked incredible in those jeans . . . you felt a spark of irritation at the universe. If only you weren’t on your period right now . .

As if to remind you of that little fact, you got another cramp. It wasn’t quite as bad as the last one but it still had you pressing your hands against your abdomen in a vain attempt to stop the pain. A pointed reminder that you needed to take that ibuprofen and put the heating pad back on. While Michael sliced off a few pieces from the loaf of pumpkin bread, you slipped off to the bathroom to take those painkillers.

“How are ya feelin’ pet?” Michael asked as you settled back on the couch.

“I’m grand,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

While his lips did give an amused twitch at your borrowing of his phrasing, his eyes flickered over to the heating pad and the blanket piled on the couch. “Ya were wincin’”

Of course he had noticed. Michael was nothing if not attentive.

You fidgeted. He had never exhibited any disgust for periods. Never made any crude jokes, reacted with calm practicality every time it had come up. Anna had been more embarrassed by her dad buying her tampons than he had been going to shop to buy them. But your period wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You really didn’t want to talk about it with Michael.

For some reason, he seemed to think you were beautiful. And you didn’t want anything to destroy that particular delusion of his.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to lie either. You and Mikey were trying to build something solid here. Something that would last. Honest communication was key to that goal. And . . . well, your periods weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

“It’s just my period,” you muttered, staring at your feet. Your socks didn’t match. One was a bright pink. The other was black. You hadn’t even noticed before now. Tears filled your eyes. Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. You really were a disaster.

“Pet?”

His voice was closer than you expected. It startled you into looking up. Seeing your tears, the concerned frown deepened. “Can I sit with ya?”

You nodded. He sat down next to you, then turned so he was mostly facing you. He held his arms open in clear invitation. One you couldn’t resist. You slide into his arms, borrowing your face into his chest. The sweater might not have been the chest hair you had been craving earlier but you still had his strong arms around you. You had his cologne that smelled like a blend of whiskey, coffee, vanilla along with notes that you couldn’t describe as other than Mikey in your nose. Which was pretty damn good.

It got even better when one of those wonderfully warm hands began massaging your lower back while the other helped maneuver the rest of you into a more comfortable snuggling position. Michael was so warm. He was just as good as your heating pad. Better. Because your heating pad couldn’t murmur sweet nothings into your ear.

One of these days you were going to have to ask him what mo ghrá meant. Everyone had refused to tell you. Just smiled and told you to ask Michael.

You did eventually manage to drink your coffee and eat your slice of pumpkin bread, followed by more snuggles with Mikey. You felt your eyes getting heavy as the combination of comfort and warmth lulled you into sleep. The last thing you felt before you drifted off was lips pressing against your forehead with another soft mo ghrá.

END NOTES

mo ghrá is Irish for "my love".

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Chapter Three

Ch 1 Ch 2 <-

WC: 4769 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 3/10 | AO3

Note: Trigger warnings apply very strongly to this chapter, and it is probably the heaviest chapter of the fic.

~Steve~

Steve had been a little on edge all day. 

He kept trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal, that tonight would be just like any other post Upside Down fuckery get-together, nothing whatsoever to get worked up over.

But it was no use.

It was a big deal. Tonight would be the first time any of them had set eyes on Eddie since the night they’d killed Vecna—since the night they’d almost lost the other boy for good. 

Assuming he actually showed. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe it when Dustin called saying Eddie had finally come to the phone, and not only spoke to him but agreed to a party. 

It seemed like a huge step after he’d so thoroughly cut them all off. Because no matter how many times Steve had told Dustin to give it time, that everyone heals from trauma in their own way, at their own pace, Steve knew that’s exactly what Eddie had done—he just didn't understand why.

It gave him a bad feeling about the night to come.

Still, the relief at hearing that Eddie had finally reached out to one of them, that Steve might finally get to see him whole and well after keeping him alive through sheer force of will alone, only to have Eddie ripped away from him at the hospital never to be seen again…

It had been enough to send him to his knees.

The phone rang, pulling Steve from his thoughts and forcing him to stop wiping the already clean kitchen counter to answer. It had to be Robin. He’d known this would happen. She swore she’d get her mom to drop her off for once so he wouldn’t have to venture out when Jonathan and Nancy were already picking up the kids.

"Hey, Rob. You need a ride after all?"

"Steve?” A voice that was definitely not his best friend’s came over the line. “It's Wayne."

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I thought—"

"Boy,” Wayne huffed, and Steve could practically feel him shaking his head. “How many times are you gonna make me say it?"

"Sorry—Wayne,” Steve corrected himself. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling the older man by his first name, it just wasn’t how he was raised, but Eddie’s uncle seemed hell bent on making sure he did. 

"That's better."

"Is everything okay? Is Eddie...?" Steve clutched the phone with both hands, willing the knot forming in his stomach to go away. He could only assume either something had happened, or Wayne was calling to tell him Eddie wasn’t coming after all. 

"He's fine,” Wayne was quick to reassure him. “As fine as he’s been, at least. He's in the shower now getting ready to head over to your place. I can't tell you how happy I am that he's finally going to see some of his friends."

"Me too. I… I know the kids miss him."

“Right,” Wayne huffed a laugh. "You say that as if you’re not a kid yourself."

Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the double meaning or not, but decided to ignore it.

“I guess I just haven't felt like one in a long time.” 

Wayne hummed in understanding. "I hope it’s not too much to ask, but keep a close eye on Ed tonight, will ya? I know this is a good thing. Him getting out of the house feels like the first step towards him living his life again, but… well, you know I worry."

"It’s no problem," Steve said immediately. 

As if that hadn’t already been his plan for the evening.

“Thank you, Steve. Oh, and I think maybe it’d be best if we don’t let on to Eddie that we’ve been talking. He might take it the wrong way, like we been talking bad about him behind his back. Would you mind keeping it between you and me?” 

They sort of had been talking about him behind his back, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t malicious. And Steve knew there were things Wayne didn’t share. Half the time the older man simply told stories about Eddie growing up.

“I won’t say a word, promise.”

Steve's camaraderie with Eddie's uncle wasn’t something he ever could have predicted coming out of all this.

Wayne had been understandably skeptical when he learned that his nephew had been found, and his life saved by a group of kids, and that that group had included one Steve Harrington. 

Steve’s dad and Wayne had to be roughly the same age, and Richard Harrington had long held a reputation for being a stuck up asshole. Steve also had no idea what tales Eddie might have come home telling about his own asshole years, so he could hardly blame the man for being wary when they’d first met in the hospital’s waiting room. 

Regardless of his concerns, Wayne had still looked Steve’s number up in the phonebook and called, on one of the rare days he wasn’t already there haunting the halls of Hawkins General, to tell him that Eddie had finally woken up. Though at the time he still wasn’t allowed visitors.

They wound up talking on the phone for more than an hour, until Wayne ran out of change.

Steve couldn't tell Eddie’s uncle anything about the Upside Down or Vecna, for fear of violating the NDAs they’d all signed years ago, even if Brenner was dead now, and no one had shown up yet this time around to demand their continued silence. And to his surprise the older man didn't push, almost like he knew there were things Steve wasn’t allowed to share no matter how much he might want to. 

He did explain, in the most sanitized version of events possible, that he and the others had been with Eddie the whole time. Trying to protect him, to hide him from the citizens that were hell-bent on hunting him down, while also dodging the advances of the real killer. And when the worst had happened, he—Steve, had done CPR, refusing to let Eddie succumb to his injuries.

It was all the truth he could offer, and really it wasn’t that far off. Wayne had cried quietly into the receiver, though they both pretended he hadn’t, and couldn’t seem to thank Steve enough. 

Steve went on to tell him about the boathouse. How he hadn’t really known Eddie that well in school, but that even after the other boy had threatened him with a broken bottle to his neck, he quickly realized that everyone had it wrong. Under all the leather and chains, and loud brashness, Eddie was sensitive, kind, and wouldn’t hurt a fly unless provoked. 

He even went so far as to say that he hoped, once the dust settled anyway, that he and Eddie could get to know each other better. Not the most damning of statements, but still more than he’d really meant to share. Steve wasn’t sure what had possessed him to be so honest. There was just something about Wayne Munson that made him feel comfortable and safe.

They spoke every single day after that. Either on the phone, or more often in person when both of them were camped out in the hospital’s waiting room with a revolving cast of others. 

It’d been hard to hear that Eddie didn’t want to see anyone. 

Wayne hadn’t said those exact words, of course, but it wasn’t hard for Steve to read between the lines. The entire group of them, not just those who had fought against Vecna from Hawkins, but Mike, El, Will, Jonathan, Jonathan’s friend Argyle who had inexplicably stuck around after driving the rest of them cross country in his pizza van— even though some of them had never even met Eddie, they all rushed to the hospital when word came down that their friend’s name had finally been cleared. His restrictions lifted.  

Dustin took it the hardest, refusing to go home because if Steve wasn’t leaving, then why did he have to go? And Steve couldn’t really argue with that, he’d done this to himself. Thankfully Claudia showed up eventually and didn’t give her son the choice.

Steve continued to talk to Wayne often, still went to the hospital nearly every day, even though it was clear that reports on Eddie’s progress from his uncle would be all the proof of life he’d get. Wayne was always checking in on Steve too, asking if he was eating, sleeping, that sorta thing. It was kind of nice having an adult fuss over him like that, he’d almost forgotten what it was like.

-

Robin grabbed Steve by the hem of his polo, forcibly pulling him into the kitchen where Nancy, Jon, and Argyle were hanging out.

“Hey, watch it!” Steve yanked himself out of her grip, straightening his shirt. 

Robin leaned in close to whisper. “You have to stop staring, dingus. You’re going to freak him out.”

Steve scoffed, keeping his own voice low. “As if he’s even looked in my direction once.”

“I know Wayne asked you to look out for him tonight, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too seriously?”

“I told you that in confidence!” Steve hissed under his breath. 

“Just relax. He seems fine to me.” Robin patted him on the arm and turned to join Nancy in her discussion about studying for finals.

She wasn’t wrong exactly. Eddie did seem fine—with everyone else. 

Eddie had been the last to arrive and Steve worried at first that it might be too much, walking into a house full of people and being inundated by the likes of Mike and Dustin. He’d even said as much to the younger teens when they heard the squealing of brakes as Eddie’s van pulled up, warning them not to overwhelm him with questions or say anything about the hospital. 

And for a moment Steve thought he’d been wrong. 

Eddie came through the door, dimples on display, all big stupidly pretty smiles, a bit crooked now from the still healing scar near his mouth, but that only drew Steve’s attention to his lips more. 

He hugged Dustin, reintroduced himself to Jonathan, who of course remembered him from school, met Argyle and El, and greeted everyone else one by one. 

Everyone but Steve. 

No one else seemed to notice the oversight, and Steve, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, proceeded to quietly brood in the corner, taking breaks only to freshen his beer so he’d have something to do with himself while he observed—not stared, Robin.

The longer he watched, the more convinced he became that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be. His already lithe frame looked even thinner now. He was swimming in his usual ripped jeans and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. No, Steve still didn’t know who they were, but he could read damnit. And there was something in the set of Eddie’s shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists when he thought no one was looking, a tightness around his eyes—eyes with dark bruising below that spoke of many sleepless nights.

Or maybe Steve was overreacting. Maybe this was just what happens when someone is recovering from almost dying in a hell dimension. Maybe it was a good thing Robin had pulled him away before he could do or say anything to embarrass himself. 

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been milling about the kitchen making awful small talk with his ex-girlfriend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s stoner best friend when Eddie came stumbling into the kitchen, Robin following close behind with wide eyes on her way back from the bathroom.

Eddie mumbled out an apology to no one as he banged into the counter before finding his way to the fridge where he took out a beer, and proceeded to down it in one go with the door still hanging wide open in front of him. 

Steve shared a baffled look with Robin. There was no way Eddie had gotten that drunk off of the two, now three beers, he’d had since he arrived. He had to have started before he got there, or broken into Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet in the office. 

“Hey, Eddie… um, do you think maybe you should slow down?” Steve said cautiously, taking a tentative step towards the other boy as he popped open yet another beer. 

At least he closed the refrigerator door this time.

“That an order, King Steve?” Eddie slurred out, looking Steve in the eye for the first time all evening. He swayed into Steve’s space, poking a finger into his chest. “How about you just mind your own fucking business for once, and leave me alone.”

Eddie’s words were biting, vicious, and Steve found himself taking a step back, holding his hands up as if surrendering. This time it was Nancy he exchanged a quick glance with. She looked just as confused as he felt, brows tightly furrowed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Man, that’s—that’s not—” Steve began, floundering for what to say. He didn’t understand what was happening, why Eddie was so angry. He thought they’d moved past high school reputations after everything. “I just don’t want to see you get sick or something.”

“Whatever,” Eddie made a dramatic show out of rolling his eyes, before fumbling in his pockets and pulling out his keys. “I’m outta here.”

When Steve hesitated, afraid to make it worse, Robin walked right up to Eddie and snatched the set of keys out of his hand. “Oh no you don't. No way we’re letting you drive like this.”

“Fine, I’ll walk!” Eddie snapped, moving to step around her, but found Jonathan his path.

“You can’t walk all that way, man,” Jonathan said.

“Watch me,” Eddie spun on his heel, nearly fell when he lost his balance, and almost ran into Nancy who had moved to block the other way out of the kitchen.

“There’s still people out there who are after you, Eddie. It’s not safe," she said.

Eddie laughed, but it was an unsettling, hollow sound, devoid of any actual humor. He looked at them all in turn with dull eyes. “Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?”

“I do,” Steve blurted out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “We all do. We’re your friends, Eddie. Of course we care.”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as he rounded on Steve again. “Yeah, sure.”

“Look, I’ve got a guest room, why don’t you sleep it off and you can drive home in the morning.”

“You just looove telling people what to do, don’t you?” Eddie crooned, mockingly. “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off.”

Robin moved to stand between them, facing Eddie. “What is your problem, huh?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Eddie asked, tilting his head, pointing an accusing finger behind her. “Him. He’s my problem.”

Steve had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, but he tried to push it aside. It could be that Eddie was just an angry drunk or something, in which case, trying to reason with him right now was pointless, but he still had to ask.

“I don’t understand, Eddie. What did I do?” 

“You should have fucking left me there!” 

Everyone froze, the kitchen falling absolutely silent in the wake of Eddie’s words. Steve watched as all the blood drained from the other boy’s face, leaving him more ghostly pale than ever. 

Eddie took a stumbling step back from Robin, pushing past Jonathan, who didn’t try to stop him this time, and took off. Steve listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing but it never came. Instead he heard a door slam down the other end of the hall where the bathroom was, and realized that Robin still held Eddie’s van keys in her hand.

The raised voices of Dustin and Max filtered in from the other room, snapping the group of older teens back to life.

“Shit,” Steve ran his hands roughly through his hair. “You don’t think the kids heard any of that do you?”

Argyle jumped into action, peeking his head around the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room before turning back with an easy smile. “Nah, the little dudes are like, fully engrossed in arguing about what movie to watch, they’re fine.”

Steve raised his face to the ceiling, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Robin wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek into his arm.

“Nance, do you think you guys could drive everyone home?” Steve asked.

Nancy shrugged. “Yeah, yeah I guess, but… what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like this is my fault somehow,” he said, leaning his head down against Robin’s for a moment, taking the comfort she offered while he could. He had a feeling the night wasn’t going to get any better from here. “So I should be the one to fix it.”

They told the kids that Eddie wasn’t feeling well, and had gone upstairs to lay down and needed quiet. They weren’t thrilled about getting kicked out, denied their big group sleepover, but Steve promised a raincheck and that seemed to smooth things over. 

Dustin lagged behind when the others split off into Nancy’s car and Argyle’s van, shooting suspicious looks between Steve and Robin. “I’m not stupid, I know something’s wrong. Something you're not telling me.”

“Do you trust me, Henderson?”

“You know I do.” Dustin scowled. “But you can’t treat me like a kid forever.”

Steve drew him into a tight hug. “I know, just… let me handle this one, okay?”

“You’ll take care of him?” Dustin asked, voice muffled where his face was pressed to Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.” 

Robin was the last to go, hovering in the open doorway while Nancy’s car idled out front.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Steve would have loved for her to stay, to hold his hand through whatever the hell was about to happen, but he had a feeling he had a better chance of getting Eddie out of that bathroom without a crowd. And if Eddie wanted to keep taking his anger out on Steve, well, he could handle it, and at least no one else would have to hear. 

“I’ll be alright.”

“Are you going to call Wayne?” She asked.

He’d already been waffling back and forth about calling the older man. He didn’t want to worry Eddie’s uncle even more than he already was, but he might not have a choice.

“If I say yes, will you go?”

Robin elbowed him hard in the side before throwing her arms around his neck. “What Eddie said, Steve… I-I don’t like the sound of that.”

Steve swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat. “Me either.” 

-

Steve approached the bathroom slowly, wrapping his arms around himself when he heard Eddie sobbing through the closed door, so sorrowful and loud that he could practically feel the other boy’s pain. 

Steve’s heart broke.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly on the hollow wood.

The sound of Eddie’s cries was choked off abruptly, replaced with a muffled whimper. Steve could imagine clear as day the other boy sitting in there with a hand thrown over his own mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sound. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking more deep even breaths as he bowed his head. He was intimately familiar with bathroom floor breakdowns, and not just the one he and Robin now looked back on with an odd fondness, the moment they became them. He’d spent more than one night on a cold tile floor. After the first demogorgon, after the tunnels, the Russians and the mind flayer, and just a few weeks ago, after Vecna—after Eddie.

Steve sat, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his back against the door frame.

“It’s just me, Eddie. Everyone else is gone. Do you… do you want to come out and talk? Or I could come in there?” 

“Go away, Harrington,” Eddie said weakly. 

“If you don’t want to talk, I could just sit with you.”

“Haven’t you done enough, King Steve? Just leave me alone, man.” Eddie's voice shook.

It was the same words he’d thrown in Steve’s face in the kitchen, but the sharp edges had been filed off.

Steve sighed, letting his head fall back against the door with a soft thunk. “Come on, Eddie. You know I'm not that guy anymore. I thought we had a moment back there, in the woods?” 

He still had no idea where this was coming from. What had he done to make Eddie hate him all of the sudden?

Eddie let out another humorless chuckle. “A moment? What am I—your fucking prom date, Harrington?”

“You know what I mean. I thought we had an understanding, that we agreed we were both different than the other expected.”

“What part of any of this has convinced you that I’m not exactly the freak everyone says I am?”

“You’re not a—”

Steve’s reply was cut off by a metallic clatter on the other side of the door. His stomach dropped, his mouth went dry, and his heart began hammering in his chest. It could be nothing more than the chains from Eddie’s jeans dragging on the floor, but if it wasn’t… 

Steve shot to his feet, trying the handle though he knew it’d be locked.

It was.

“Open the door, Eddie.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve jiggled the handle again. “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re not gonna break your own door down.”

If Steve was right about what he thought might be happening in there, he’d do a lot worse than damaging a stupid door to stop it. 

“Try me.” 

Steve backed himself up, prepared to use his shoulder like a battering ram, when he heard the faint click of the lock disengaging.

The hinges squeaked as he pushed the door open carefully.

Eddie was huddled on the floor, wedged into the corner between the sink and the wall, curled in on himself. He rocked gently back and forth as he stared down at the knife gripped tightly in his hand. 

Steve kept his movements slow, kneeling down on the floor as far from Eddie as the cramped space would allow.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie whispered.

Steve swallowed back a pained sound, blinking back tears as his fingers itched to reach for the other boy, to hold him. He might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he was absolutely sure that when Eddie said here he wasn’t talking about Steve’s house.

He inched forward, holding his hand out.

“Please give me the knife.”

Eddie’s eyes, red rimmed and puffy, shot up to meet his, and they still held so much anger—but also a hint of fear. He snarled, but released his grip on the blade, letting it drop to the tile between them.  

As Steve reached for it, retracting the blade and slipping it carefully into his pocket, he let his gaze roam over Eddie’s body, relieved to see no spots of blood on him or the floor. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Eddie part with his blood again. 

Eddie hugged his legs to his chest, tucking himself into an even tighter little ball, glazing at Steve as he rested his head on his knees. “Always think you know what’s best, don't you? Who put you in charge, why do you get to make that decision?”

“I don’t—I don’t know anything, man.”

Eddie’s eyes fell shut, sending fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. “Why couldn’t you just leave me down there, huh? I was as good as dead. It would have been easier, safer.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pull Eddie into his lap and never let go. 

Eddie sniffled loudly, wiping his face on his jeans. “I did what I did to keep Dustin safe, to make sure you had the chance to win, but I never planned on making it out of that place.”

Steve did reach out then, and surprisingly Eddie took his hand, letting Steve pull him to his feet—and didn’t let go. Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but he allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom, up the stairs, and all the way to the guest room where he finally let go, laying down on the bed to face the wall. 

Steve hovered in the doorway, a little afraid to leave the other boy alone, but he had no idea what he was doing. He was in way over his head here. He needed to call Wayne. 

“I’m not sorry that I saved your life,” Steve said quietly to Eddie’s back. “I could never be sorry for that, but I am sorry that you’re hurting.”

-

By the time Steve made it to the bottom of the stairs again he was a wreck, crying and shaking so badly that he almost dropped the phone as he dialed the Munson’s number from memory. 

“Hello?”

The moment the call connected Steve’s legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor, thankful for the phone’s long cord.

“Wayne…” Steve sobbed out the older man’s name.

“What’s wrong? Is Eddie…?” Wayne’s panicked voice came loudly through the receiver.

Steve pressed the phone hard into his ear. “He’s here. H-he’s laying down in my guestroom.”

“What happened?” 

“It’s… he… I can’t—I can’t—I can’t even say it.” Steve hiccuped, and his voice caught, his throat gone painfully tight.

“Breathe, son. It’s gonna be alright, but you gotta breathe. Go on—in and out, on my count.”

It took a few tries but Steve did his best to follow the man’s directions, concentrating on the sound of his voice as he counted off to five. Taking air into his lungs slowly, holding it for a beat, and blowing it out just as slowly until he felt a little less like he was going to pass out.

“That’s real good, Steve. You drop your head between your knees?”

He did, nodding as though the other man could see him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

Wayne clicked his tongue. “Nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on now?”

Again Steve nodded to no one but the floor and the empty room. 

“Eddie—he was drinking and I tried to get him to slow down, but he… he got so angry and then he said—” Steve cut himself off, unable to repeat the words, and skipped ahead to the worst of it. “He locked himself in the bathroom. I sent everyone else away, and I-I tried to talk to him, but… Wayne, he was in there, crying, holding that knife he carries.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Shit,” Wayne cursed softly. “I knew he was having a hard time, but I didn’t think…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, kid. I just don’t know what to do, how to help him. I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow night, I can’t afford any more time off. We might not owe on the trailer but there’s still bills to pay. I was already nervous about leaving him alone, and now—I can’t lose him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate to make the offer. He’d been fired from the video store for missing too many shifts anyway.

“What if he stayed here with me for a while?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Wayne said.

“You didn’t, I’m offering. I’m not working right now, so I can be home with him all the time and maybe—I dunno, maybe I can get through to him.” 

There was a long pause before Wayne spoke again, where Steve was afraid the man would turn him down. "I know there’s things… stuff he can’t talk to me about, that he can talk to you about. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure, and I promise I won't let anything bad happen to him.”

“I know, son, you’re a good kid. Okay. Let me pack some of his things. I'll be there soon.”

Chapter 4

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

So I've been working on a Feyd-Rautha/Reader fanfic, and am working out various headcanons I have for him in terms of his sexual preferences and past, as well as what I've written but might be a little too silly to include in future chapters and kind of want to get it out there to get an opinion on things.

Link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 1 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

Some of my NSFW headcanons down below

-Okay, so it's firmly established that he's a sadomasochist. It's also mentioned in the books that he'd been abused by his uncle when he was younger. I don't think the two necessarily have to correlate but I think on some level he finds physical pain cathartic, and the moments in which he's masochistic to him feel like he's reclaiming something for himself. He chooses the pain rather than having it inflicted on him.

-I get the impression that he's generally more dominant but in the right headspace with the right person can enjoy being more submissive. It has to be explicitly on his terms, though. Like with pain, he has to make it clear that this is something he's giving of his own free will and that is not to be taken lightly.

-I don't think he would or could ever tolerate being subjected to humiliation, degradation, or feeling emasculated. Subjecting a partner to that, sure, but I feel like that would actually be a severe trigger for him so someone calling him pathetic or questioning his manhood in the bedroom may very well get killed on the spot for it. He's buried a lot of his trauma from his uncle's abuse but those things awaken it.

-I don't think there's a specific kink community with a vocabulary or guidelines on Geidi Prime. I don't think he knows what a trigger or a safeword is. As established already in my fic, he doesn't fully understand the concept of aftercare and is pretty bad at providing it (so far.)

-Being an arena fighter on Geidi Prime basically makes him a rock star, and as such he does get his equivalent of groupies. He's never been in an actual romantic relationship, but people fascinated with his brutality in the arena have gotten curious about what he's like in the bedroom and while it doesn't happen all the time, he has sufficiently satisfied their curiosity.

-I'm not sure if this will end up making it into the fic, but I picture him as being predominantly but not exclusively attracted to women, and as someone who's had a couple of consensual encounters with men as an adult, partly out of genuine curiosity/interest and partly to reclaim some level of power.

-Spoilers for future chapters--I'm writing it that he doesn't have sex with his Darlings. They're a little too animalistic even for him. He doesn't mind if people assume he does, though, because of the danger and fear associated with it.

-He enjoys period sex. Nothing deeper about it, the man just likes blood. Will also enthusiastically go down on his partner during the heaviest days.

-So...here's where I'm worried it's going to get a little goofy. While he has a lot of kinks that would be considered adjacent to BDSM, as I said I don't picture there being a specific community. I wrote a scene that hasn't been posted yet of Feyd-Rautha using a flogger on the Reader character and her initially being terrified thinking it's a cat-of-nine-tails and calming down somewhat when she realizes it's not that severe. I'm worried it will seem ridiculous, but I could also picture him having something certain tools custom-made for him. It was one of the first scenes I wrote for this fic but am worried it will come across as tacky/not fitting for the environment. Granted, I'm not writing a particularly substantial fanfic. It's completely removed from the main plot and is mostly a combination of character study and smut so I think anyone who's enjoying it probably knows that it's not that deep. *

*Although to be clear, I'd love to hear from people on that they think.

[proselfshipsafespace]

I am the furthest you could be from an Anti. But this might get me yelled at.

The only thing I’m against is RPF. I can’t wrap my head around how it’s a thing. I don’t get how it’s okay to write some of the heaviest/darkest shit about actual people that can simply google their name and see what’s being written about them.

Don’t get me wrong, I read the 1D fics as a teenager, but never anything above fluff.

I will never say “don’t do that” or say anything directly cuz it’s none of my business but after 15 years in fandom I still don’t understand it.

heres what i got:

you can dislike rpf, everyone has their prefrences but dont go out and tell people "you cant do that!!!" because thats just trying to enforce censorship. i do NOT like minor rpf in the SLIGHTEST bit, absolutely not my thing but i dont go out and tell people "you cant write that ur horrible!!" i just block it out bc id rather not see it.

the reason why *i* atleast like rpf, though is because i just have a huge weird gayass crush on one celebrity and i like to think i have a chance with him /j (okay but actually, i just like blorbo-fying him and putting him in weird situations. think of how people treat fictional blorbos)

do i like rpf? yes

have i written rpf? yes

do i have a bias towards rpf? yeah probably

whats my point? idk man i need to kiss that celebrity

[yanyanobsessed]

continuing on my yandere vampire fics from a while ago.. I figured the best way to expand on it would be to go back to the beginning.

Note: Theres a lot of worldbuilding here lol, Probably my heaviest work yet, contentwise (not in a dark sense, this post is just hefty when it comes to her word count)

Grace Addams (she/her)

Yandere type: Worshipper, obsessive

Grace was adopted quite young, raised by a wealthy couple with her every need met and accounted for by leaps and bounds. Anything she wanted, her dads did their best to accommodate- which thankfully was relatively easy for them, given that they were in no short supply of funds.

As a child, Grace was very quiet for the most part- almost too quiet, save for the occasions where she was left hungry or with a stomach ache, in the time prior to her vampiric nature coming to light. Her parents discovered quite early on that she was not exactly human, delightfully greeted by quite a number of little fang-marks when she went through teething as a toddler.

Vampires weren't unheard of by any means, but the couple lived in a rather wealthy rural area, and they had never in their lives encountered one in the flesh. However, having discovered the nature in their precious daughter, they felt it would be most appropriate to reach out online, finding comfort in the form of a number of forums and online communities centered on vampiric parenting and resources. They adapted their routines for her, swapping the baby food and solids that had caused her many a stomach ache with meats and iron-enriched tomato juice, which they had read online served as a temporary substitute for blood in the time it would take them to get in contact with a vampiric supply center for her. They abandoned the practice of using garlic in their cooking, so on and so forth, and with time Grace became a much quieter child, content and enriched.

As Grace grew, she remained very silent in her movements- thanks to her supernatural nature, she was able to move much faster than the average child, soundlessly darting around the manor she was raised in. Well, soundless aside from the occasional giggle when she was particularly giddy, or the wailing cries that followed her bumping into something in her fun. Despite her stealth and speed, she proved to be quite clutsy at times, running into things quite frequently even when she was moving at a normal speed.

When it came time for Grace to enter schooling, her parents debated quite a bit, before resolving that it would be good to enroll her at a school in the city, as opposed to one in the rural area they inhabited. They remained in their manor, but began arranging to take Grace to and from school each day, making the hour drive each direction in order to allow her the chance to meet other kids who might not judge her as harshly as those in the rural lands were almost guaranteed to.

This went on for years, with Grace attending class with other kids, packing her little blood pack and tupperware of meat each day to class, shifting to just a thermostat full of blood as she got older. By 7th grade, she had grown accustomed to this routine quite perfectly- She now was brought to school and back home by a private driver her parents hired, but that change aside, things remained relatively unchanged. Grace was silent in her classes, hardly ever talking with her classmates unless it was required, preferring to spend her time studying or reading. It was in one of these such moments, where she had her nose in her latest reading, on the day when everything changed.

Mrs. Lorella called everyone's attention to the front of the room, interrupting the chatters of first period with an introduction. A new student would be joining them. Grace looked you over without much intrigue, simply wishing to acquaint herself visually with you so that she would know your name if it came necessary- and yet, she was surprised when you met her eyes perfectly, honed in on her out of all the students present.

After introducing yourself, as soon as Mrs. Lorella let you go, you made your way straight to Grace's desk, smiling at her. "Is this seat taken?" Grace shyly shook her head, and you eagerly plopped your things down, scooting in right next to her with a smile that rivaled the sun in brightness.

It was that way for the rest of your classes- There was only one period in which the seat next to Grace was not available, and in every other opportunity you didn't hesitate to take the one which was, even looking a little saddened when you saw that one taken seat. Grace was slightly put off by you at first- She didn't dislike you by any means, but you were strange to her. She had always been naturally avoided or picked on by other kids, and although she shut that down quite quick to the best of her ability, that didn't mean she searched for companionship in her classmates. She thought she had more than enough of the stuff with her fathers, whom she was incredibly fond of. And yet, as time went on, and you continued to insert yourself into her life, she found it hard to deny that she enjoyed your company.

Within the next few weeks, her walls had begun to come down, and she found herself increasingly giddy when she was around you. One day at lunch hour, without even consciously realizing it, she offered for you to come over to her house after school. It was an offhand remark, in reply to you asking her about her driver, and yet the way your face lit up in response made her heart flutter in a way that was completely alien to her. You eagerly agreed, happy to spend time with her as she found herself smiling in response.

Thus began a routine of sorts- Most days after classes, you would go to Grace's house, as your parents were busy with work and made no complaint to the extra hours afforded by not having to drive you home, and you and Grace would spend the afternoon together. By the time you had to go home, Grace would accompany you, and listen to your ramblings the entire car ride to your home, spending the drive back in silence, dreamily looking out the window.

Grace's parents were quick to catch on to her fondness for you, welcoming you as one of their own in a way.

Over the years, you and Grace became attached at the hip - anywhere you went, Grace followed, and vice versa. Any time you had to spend apart, Grace found herself lamenting the distance, eagerly texting you in efforts to close the gap electronically, which proved comforting to her worries. However, it was noticable that any time you were apart from her, she became visibly antsy. She would tap her foot, fidget with her family rings, look around as if she could spot you nearby- and don't forget checking her phone often, debating whether to call you or not. As the attachment between you grew, so did her protectiveness, to a very obvious degree.

Now, on the nature of Grace's vampirism- While the school she went to wasn't necessarily hostile to her kind, her parents were instructed when she was first enrolled to teach her to keep it under wraps. While being a vampire wouldn't get you hunted openly like in the olden days, government intervention didn't prevent the prejudice that still ran deep in some people, and they found that it would be safer for their little girl if she didn't rampantly go around showing off her vampirism.

Grace had been very good about this rule of her parents' for her entire schooling- and yet, like most of her outward shell, it unraveled quite easily when it came to you.

One day, when you were at her house, you questioned her about her fidgeting. She bit her lip, continuing to twist her rings as her eyes flitted around the empty library you two presently occupied your time in.

"..Can I tell you a secret, Y/N?"

"Of course! You can tell me anything- I'm very good at keeping secrets, my mom says."

Grace took a deep breath.

"..I'm a vampire." She blurted out, cheeks rosy as she watched your reaction with fearful eyes.

A moment passed, and she just about felt her stomach drop, when you suddenly smiled, your entire body language brightening with intrigue.

You eagerly questioned her about it, taking the news in stride as you rattled off all your curiosities, holding both of her hands in yours as you did so, a habit of yours that Grace found herself quite fond of.

From that day onward, Grace found her attachment to you growing- She had never before even considered draining someone, and yet these days she found her eyes drifting to your neck dangerously often. She always managed to catch herself, although it was in the private moments that the urge came strongest. She always reeled herself in however, and was able to restrain herself.

That was, until sometime in the summer after your highschool years had finished, when a blood shortage had been wearing her thin, and you had been teasing her privately at every turn regarding her fangs, and how you would let her bite you if she wanted (which never failed to fluster her immensely, might I add.)

(Stopping here for now, lemme know what y'all think and any ideas you might have regarding Grace!)

[spotsandsocks]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @housewifebuck @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess thank you my loves 💕Still on holiday so can’t do anything fancy so here’s an older fic - it was my first one to get an exciting amount of notes in tumblr (exciting for me that is 😉) some angst and then some love and fluff

Could Have Should Have Would Have

“I love you.” 

Three words, that’s all, just three and they hang in the air surrounded by the heaviest silence Buck’s ever felt. 

Buck hadn’t meant to say them. Especially not now, he could have said them before but he’s always been too scared, now he’s just too late.

Far too late for it to mean anything, far too late to make a difference, but not it seems too late to ruin whatever he had left with his best friend.

“You what?”  

Two words for Buck’s three, spoken slowly and almost too quiet to hear. It’s not the ideal response, Eddie heard him but Buck knows he has to say it again.  

“I love you.”

He waits. He’s seen that look on Eddie’s face before, complete and utter shock, the other man can't process what’s just happened. This time though he doesn’t fall to the ground, Buck’s not left with the taste of blood on his lips, just the ache of his breaking heart.  

Eddie takes a step back and with that one step all of Buck’s hopes die. 

“Since when?” There’s disbelief and hurt in Eddie’s hushed breathless voice.

Now there a question and Buck’s not sure he can answer it. How can he pinpoint the moment Eddie became a part of his soul, as necessary to him as breathing.

He considers the possibilities, what should he say?

Since forever?

Since the first time you smiled at me.

Since you shared your life and pulled me into your family.

Since you gave me your son to love right alongside you. 

Since I watched a mudslide take you away and a miracle bring you back.

And the hardest one to think about;

Since a bullet ripped through your body and I drowned in your blood.

No.

Or maybe he could say,

Since you started dating.

Since I realised what was there because it was gone. 

Since I watched you stop loving me back.

None of those words leave his lips, instead he just says,

“A long time now.”

Eddie turns away. The movement knocks the air from Buck’s lungs, he might as well have punched him, it would have hurt less. 

Panic fuels him makes him pour desperate words into the chasm cracking open between them. 

“I should have told you. 

I should have found a way.

I should have been braver. 

I should have kissed you and then I should have kissed you again.

I should have kissed you ten thousand thousand times by now.”

Eddie doesn’t move, and Buck’s not sure what he expected. A bitter laugh bursts out of him, harsh and unwelcome, it’s such a hollow hateful sound and it echoes in the silence he created with a truth that came too late.

Eddie still won’t look at him but he’s going to turn and leave any minute now, Buck knows it like he knows his own name but he has time to say one more true thing before Eddie leaves him. 

“I should have kept my mouth shut.”

The reply he gets could cut glass. “Yes you should have.”

More useless words push at Buck’s lips, he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t ask, it will only hurt, but he has to know. 

“Which part?”

Eddie finally turns and Buck’s heart stops at the hurt in his beautiful brown eyes. 

“All of of it.”

And then without another word Eddie leaves because he has a date tonight. A date where he’s going to ask his new boyfriend to meet his son. Buck knows that because Eddie told him with a smile on his face only five minutes ago, while they were friends.

He’s not sure they still are.

The door slams shut, no probably not.

It’s early but he can’t face anything else, the stairs feel like Mount Everest as he climbs them. The only thing left to do is fling himself face down on the bed and curse his existence.

it’s painfully clear he only has himself to blame for this whole mess, this is what you get when you wait too long, let fear override your heart. He should have trusted Eddie more. He could have had a chance, Eddie might have said yes and then, then they would have been so happy. 

It’s just… he hadn’t expected it to get serious so fast when Eddie told him he was going on a date all those weeks ago, but Eddie’s been dating Jack for two months now, two months of Buck wallowing in misery and regret that culminated in him blurting out three stupid, stupid words because Eddie had told him he was thinking of asking Jack to meet Christopher.

Buck’s roar of frustration is muffled by his pillow. He’d thought he have more time, that he’d have a chance someday when he was ready, when he wasn’t so scared of what he might lose.

Another burst of feeling gets caught in his pillow. 

He’s lost it all anyway. Eddie’s falling in love and Jack is going to meet Christopher.

God he wishes he could be happy for them, he should be, if he was a halfway decent man he’d be glad Eddie had found love. He’s not. He hates it, hates that he let Eddie slip away.

On top of that sits the knowledge that he could have had everything he’d ever wanted if he’d only been braver. The thought is crushing, he can hardly breath anymore. 

Exhausted and heartsick, with everything that matters lost to him, sleep eventually gives some respite from his hurt at least that is, until the dreams start and then Buck tosses and turns caught in dreams that are filled with memories and things that could have been.

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging @monsterrae1 @elvensorceress @alyxmastershipper @the-likesofus @thekristen999 @spaceprincessem @jobairdxx @like-the-rest-of-la @princessfbi @wikiangela @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @cowboy-buddie @shortsighted-owl @rogerzsteven @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @fiona-fififi @wildlife4life @megsvstheworld @bekkachaos @buddierights - and anyone else who wants to share

[samsalami66]

What is this lawsuit I see under the soccer au??😱

This lawsuit, dear anon, is probably going to be the end of my sanity XD.

Planned for this fic is a lawsuit against the Riggers, led on by Dream and Hob, for all the abuse he had to endure while playing for the team (both as a player in general and because of his sexuality). It will involve some media scandals and the team trying to convince other players to come forth and talk about their experience at the team, as well as general angsty scenes spent at the police or in court.

Problem being: I know exactly nothing of how such a lawsuit might go down, or about the steps involved, so it will take a lot of research and planning until I will get that part of the universe started. But it's probably going to be the plot-heaviest fic of them all and I'm really looking forward to figuring it out. Dream deserves some justice for what was done to him, and the Riggers need to be supervised or banned.

Thank you so much for the ask!

Come and ask me about my WIPs!

[beauregardstaxicab]

Wanna tell me something about Coldflash A/B/O or Temporary Unrequited?

Yes, thank you for asking! I'm actually planning on posting the first chapter of the a/b/o tomorrow, so I'll hold off on that for now (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

My Temporary Unrequited fic is probably one of the heaviest fics I've worked on. I don't normally do such angst, but sometimes you're just in the mood to work on something sad, right? And, naturally, it'll have a lot of comfort with the hurt.

Besides a short bit that takes place during season 1 of Legends, the main fic starts off post Crisis on Earth-X, and instead of Iris and Barry getting married after that event, she leaves him to start fresh somewhere else.

It's very friendship heavy with team Flash and also Kendra and Jax since they're both retired from the Legends at that point, and of course Leonard turns back up in Barry's life and is always suffering from being in love with Barry in the most dramatic way possible. It's a lot of Barry figuring out who he is without Iris and Leonard dealing with feelings.

Here's a little snippet! The scene is between Leo of Earth-x who knows Leonard was in love with Barry) and Barry

He paused and gazed at Barry. He promised Gideon he wouldn’t tell the Waverider crew about what he witnessed from the security footage, that Leonard was in love with Barry, but she never said he couldn’t tell Barry himself. Knowing what happened in Siberia, however, he imagined that telling Barry that Leonard loved him while he was going crazy to save Iris probably wouldn’t make Barry feel better at the moment. He was certain it would make him feel worse. Still, he felt compelled to let him know something. “I am afraid I have to correct you on one point about him, Barry.” Barry tilted his head. “About Snart?” “Yes. You said that he loved only two people. I know for a fact there were at least three.” His eyebrows shot up. “For real? Someone on the Waverider?” Leo shook his head and gave him a pointed look. Barry’s expression went blank. “Me? There’s no way.” “It’s true. Leonard cared a lot more for you than you think. I’m sure that if he had returned to Central City after saving everyone from the Time Masters, he would have been more supportive of you. Subtly, I imagine, so no one would think his heart wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.” Barry huffed out a laugh, but then he grew contemplative. “It’s still hard to believe. I always thought he thought of me as a nuisance.” “Because you got in the way of his heists?” “No, he loved that,” Barry said with a soft smile. “Snart lived for a challenge and with how good he was at stealing, he needed a superhuman adversary. No… I was a nuisance because I believed there was goodness in him, and he hated that.” “I don’t think he hated it, but it did make him uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s in our discomfort that we begin to change.” Barry hummed as he frowned deeply. “I’m going to be thinking about that one for weeks.”

[turtletimewriting]

Stuck in Comfort

Summary: Donnie was having a perfectly fine nap with Raph! So what if he was now trapped underneath Raph! But of course, Leo and Mikey had to create chaos.

Look at me! Writing again. This is a tickle fic so there’s your warning.

Words: 1600

_._._

There was loud dramatic music playing and there was some part of Donnie that knew he had to do something about that. But he was too sleepy. The room was dark and he was perfectly cushioned by a nest of fleecy blankets and pillows. He had a heavy warm weight all across his body and it was literally perfect.

So often, he’d wake up to needing to stretch or having someone’s elbow digging in yet this was utterly perfect. 

Slowly it was all coming back to him. They decided to watch a couple of movies after a really tough mission as a pick me up. It couldn’t be called a proper movie night since Leo and Mikey weren’t there. Mikey had explained his head was too busy to sit there silently watching a film, he felt that urge to fidget and totally distract himself by concentrating on something physical. It wasn’t unusual for him to need to do some art quietly after a tough mission. 

Leo didn’t really explain. He just grabbed his skateboard and called them boring.

So him and Raph had shared a look and agreed to their own movie night.

They hadn’t done this since they were really little. Raph acting as the ultimate weighted blanket to dampen all sensation for Donnie to calm his frayed nerves, while Raph hugging Donnie so to calm his own thoughts of his family in danger. The movie only acting as something to fill in the silence.

Donnie sighed happily, not even opening his eyes, and tried to settle back into sleep. Raph was doing his snuffling snores so he was dead asleep so there was no way he could move even if he wanted to. Raph was deadweight and the heaviest sleeper of them all. Not that Donnie wanted to move. He was warm and his nerves were all settled and he felt just the right side of cozy sleepiness.

He flinched as he felt something soft drift over his foot.

Ugh, it was probably the blankets shifting from him waking up. Just try to settle down and allow sleep to peacefully wash over him once again.

There it was again.

He went to scratch his foot with the other since there was no way he could free his arm from underneath Raph. Only to feel something suddenly grab his ankle.

“Gah!” He shrieked, trying to sit up but he only ended up headbutting Raph’s chin. Raph didn’t even stir at that. The hand was still holding his ankle. It was awkward leaning over Raph’s sleeping form with his massive spikey shell blocking everything from view, he couldn’t see anything.

“Easy there, Don!” Mikey’s voice helpfully whispered.

“Mikey! You scared me! What are you doing? Just grabbing at me!” He was still trying to see over Raph but he was stuck at just the wrong angle.

“Oh you know! Just hanging out with you guys, told you I’d join you later!”

“Well the movie ended a while ago,” Donnie only now registered that the music he heard earlier was the credits now playing, “but you can put on another oOOAH!”

There was a deliberate stroke from a single finger from his heel right to the ball of his foot.

Mikey laughed in his obnoxious littlest sibling way that shot terror through Donnie. “What was that noise?”

“Mikey. Don’t. You. Dare.” Donnie desperately tried to peer around but he couldn’t see Mikey. No clue what he was going to do. Where he even was! He tried to rip free from Raph’s form but he was totally powerless.

“How can I not!” Mikey laughed back like this was a lighthearted matter. “You’re completely hidden under Raphie. Only your little feetsies are sticking out!”

He was now aware that his feet were bared to the world. Moving his legs was just as useless as getting his arms free. He couldn’t move at all. Only uselessly waggling his feet.

Donnie didn’t get the chance to respond as that finger returned. It barely brushed across his skin in a confident sweep up and down. One finger sending tingling tickles across his sole. He tried to hold back, breathing all weird to keep the giggles from erupting.

He could picture the stupid happy grin on Mikey’s face; so proud of himself to bring down his bigger siblings. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction.

“That tickle, Dee?” 

The finger now gently scratched at his foot. Wiggling did nothing, the grip on his ankle kept him in place and his finger was keeping strictly to his sole. “Mk! Mmff- Mike!” He tried to scold.

“Aww, are you trapped? You don’t want to be too loud, Raphie could wake up at any second!”

“An earthquake c-co couldn’t wahake Raph!” He screeched.

“But you don’t wanna disturb him though, do you? It’s only a slight tickle. You can take that, can’t you? Just a few tiny little tickles.”

The finger drifted from the direct centre of his sole to the side. Mikey did always seem to have a secret sense of knowing when a spot was getting too used to the tickling. His nerves were shot up. It tickled way more than it should’ve. His foot being electrocuted by tickles. Breathing through the giggles was getting impossible. The urge to move screaming at him but there was nothing he could do. Totally to the whims of a tickle monster of a youngest brother.

For pizza’s sake! Aren’t they meant to be the tickle monsters to the youngest! What family had the youngest be the merciless feared monster!

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, Donnieeeee!” Mikey was too gleeful for someone who was totally getting attacked the second he was freed from Raph.

“Pfft!” By now he was opening smiling widely. The giggles were coming. He was just too ticklish. “Eh! Ehe ssssstop! Haha! AAAHA HAHAHA!”

“Oh finally!” 

Donnie jolted all over again. “LEO?!” 

“Surprise!” Leo said in that obnoxious drawl of his before he felt another hand grab his other foot and a much harsher scratching tickle on his other foot.

“HAHAHAHAAHAH! AAAAAAH! HAHA! HAHAHA! LEHEHO! MIHI- AAAAAH!” He couldn’t even think what to yell out. Mikey was still gently tracing around his sole like he was reading his foot while Leo was like a golden retriever going nuts over tormenting him.

“Shhh! Don’t wanna wake up Raph,” Leo teased.

“THEHEN DON’T TICKLE ME! HAHAHAHAAHAAAAAA! AAAAAH!” 

“Hmm, seems unrealistic,” Mikey said.

“Would it be better if I did this?” Leo said dramatically.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Donnie squealed, kicking his feet even harder. But the tickles on his left foot stopped. But that was definitely a trap. “No! No! No! No! Don’t you dare Leo!”

Really, being trapped like this was a mercy. Because usually any sort of line like that from Leo would mean he would be tickled across his shell. But Raph protected his death spot entirely.

Eventually, Leo walked to in front of him. Leo laughed at him, which was probably fair. He did look ridiculous. Blushing bright red while still drowning under Mikey’s soft tracing tickle. He shook out his head. 

“Heehee! Hehee ehe!” Donnie giggled, unable to stop. Scrunching up his face, Donnie couldn’t block out the tickles now he had started laughing. Even the slow tracing tingling tickle across his foot was enough to have him frantically laughing. The sillyiness of the situation going to his head.

“Hello there Ticklytello!” 

“Leeeeheheho! Lehe eheheee!”

“Yes, Ticklytello?”

Donnie felt like his brain was melting from the constant tingle, made even worse by the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. Trapped to just endure the tickling until his brothers got bored. “MAhahke him stop heheh heh stop tickling me!”

Leo rubbed his chin for a moment. “Would this help?” He reached out and happily tickled under his chin. 

Donnie slammed his head down into the pillows, trapping Leo’s hand directly into his neck. Allowing him to gently tickle away. It wasn’t that bad of a tickle spot but it added to the already flustering situation.

Mikey happily tickling gently at his feet and Leo trapped to torment his neck with reckless glee. And no matter how hard he wiggled or squirmed, Raph’s deadweight kept him stuck. Helpless to some brotherly tickling.

“GUHUHU GHUYS! HAHAHAHAAAA!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Donnie screamed, suddenly feeling a raspberry pressed to the nape of his neck.

That stopped his brothers. They were all looking up at Raph as he blew a long drawn out raspberry. Eventually he ran out of breath and pulled back, letting Donnie collapse into his pile of leftover tickles.

“Nice attack there, team,” Raph smiled.

“I thought you were asleep!” Leo exclaimed.

“Oh shoot, did we actually wake you up?” Mikey finally scooted up to the rest of them, looking a little chastised. 

“Nah,” Raph said while looking like he was seconds away from falling asleep again. His eyes drooping shut and he was nuzzling into the nape of Donnie’s neck. “Don’s headbutt from earlier got me up. Just thought he needed a good tickling.”

Leo went to make another remark but Mikey nudged him. Donnie was in the same position, falling asleep now things had calmed down again. His eyes already shut and relaxing into the blanket nest. It would be just plain cruel to tickle them now. Raph and Donnie settling to fall back asleep against each other.

“Is there room for two more?” Mikey smiled as he pounced to sleep in the crook of Raph’s arm, pressed up against Donnie too. 

“Can’t forget Leon!” 

[akechi-stole-my-heart]

my favorite persona 5 fics

a while ago i made a post that listed all the fics i'd read over the course of my first year in the persona 5 fandom that i enjoyed. i've been thinking about making a post of all the fics i've read since then, but i actually decided to do something different this time. if you want a complete list of every fic i've read and enjoyed, check out my bookmarks on ao3. this, on the other hand, is a list of only my absolute favorite fics. i will continue to update it as i read more fics that i love.

these are the fics that occupy my thoughts to this very day and changed my perception of these characters. that made me cry and laugh and changed me forever. in no particular order, without further ado, these are my favorite p5 fics of all time.

Daredevil, You've Hit the Wall

A Persona 5 Strikers rewrite with Sumire and Akechi. Cookie is a phenomenal writer, and she'll be showing up on this list at a later point. Her characterization of both Akira and Akechi are absolutely godly, and their arcs in this fic are incredibly satisfying for someone who loved Strikers but was left disappointed by the lack of Akechi.

Read this if you like Akira angst, want to see Akechi improve himself and befriend the Thieves (and all the complications that come with that), like Strikers (or don't like Strikers), or love akeshu. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Love is a game (and I only play to lose)

The worst possible outcome to the Interrogation Room. This one is Dark, but the akeshu is absolutely phenomenal. Definitely heed the tags, this one isn't for everyone, but I was hooked from beginning to end. While I don't normally read Hurt No Comfort, I am very glad I gave this one a chance.

watching all the stars burn out

Are you in need of some incredible Royal Trio polycule fluff and angst? Would you like to read some of the most in-character fic I've ever read? Are you in need of a good cry today? Well, then have I got a fic for you!

This is a beautiful, heartwrenching, very sweet Royal Trio polycule fic that takes place during the final week of January when Akechi tells Sumi and Akira about his impeding demise early. It's so good. I cried. You will too. And if you're scared, I promise there is so much fluff here too. My babies,,,

Interminable Ballistics

Time loop of the interrogation room scene. Akira and Akechi are Not Okay. This fic makes me go hnnngh it's so well written the prose is beautiful and everyone is so in character it hurts. I love my bois please someone get them therapy.

goro akechi's waxed asshole

Ehehehe yeah well. This one is nsfw, but it doesn't actually have a whole lot of sex. It's more of a character study than anything, and despite the title and crack concept, is actually really beautiful and sweet? If the title doesn't scare you off please check it out I promise it is incredibly good.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

AKESHU PIRATE AU!! Goro is a prisoner at a lighthouse and Akira is a pirate. The ways the author plays with their backstories in this AU is fascinating. I'm obsessed with this version of Akira and Goro and I really really wish a sequel existed that explored Sumire because my god-

If you like AUs, pirates, angst, and themes about self loathing and redemption, then check this one out. I think about it constantly.

Flight through fall

Okay....this one is probably the heaviest of all the fics on this list. Severe trigger warning for suicide, self harm, and medical stuff. It's...a lot. But it is also very very good. Akira is Not Doing Well after the events of Royal, and Akechi showing up in his life only makes things worse. This fic is not for everyone, but I personally found it very cathartic and poetic, to the point where I read it two times in a row.

Once More, With Feeling

Another akeshu timeloop, but this time, it's the day of the engine room scene. (I really like timeloop stories.) And then halfway through it also becomes a Palace fic (I won't say whose for the sake of spoilers). I love the characterization of Akechi and Akira here. The way they both handle the time loop is so very Them. It explores ideas of redemption, guilt, and finding a way to move on. I love this Akira so much please someone give him a hug <3

Falling Up

This is one of the only short one shots that have made such an impression on me to make it to this list. Akira and Akechi in the third semester. Akechi has...Feelings about having killed Akira. I don't want to say too much else for fear of giving too much away. Please read this. It's short and powerful and beautiful.

why don't we spin the wheel

Sae Niijima has a cognition of Akechi, and he's really fucked up. Please make sure to heed the warnings, this one's pretty violent. The exploration of Akechi is phenomenal and I think about the ending (and the rest of it) all of the time constantly.

When it's over, you're the start

Everyone starts to forget Akechi ever existed. This longer one shot made me fucking cry. It's so mean, incredibly mean, but don't worry, it has a happy ending. Nothing can erase the power of akeshu.

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

A what-if Mamakechi didn't die, but instead was kidnapped by Shido and her suicide faked? The characterization for Misato (Mamakechi) is sooo good, and while this fic does travel some dark places, it ultimately does result in some heartwrenching comfort for both Goro and his mama. I love this fic so fucking much, Misato is such a fantastic interpretation of Goro's mother and the the angst is sublime.

the first step to find your way is to mark where you have been

The best Akechi Palace fic I've read by a landslide, to the point where it's inspired my own Akechi Palace fic quite a bit. I had my kink awakening thanks to this fic (while reading That Scene in the middle seat on an airplane. Sorry, strangers). It's mostly an Akechi character study and an incredibly good one at that. I wish it existed as a game. It did what p5t did with Toshiro with Akechi and it did it so incredibly well. This fic makes me insane. Read it.

Fools Rush In

Akira speedruns Akechi's confidant in a day. This is one of the first fics I ever read, and when I did, I went "this is it. this is Them." The characterization is *chef's kiss.* I'm running out of new ways to compliment incredible writing help-

Pleasant Boy

This fic should be required reading for all Goroboys. No one is allowed to have an opinion on him (especially in third sem) before reading this fic. Akechi is actualized by Maruki in third sem, and Akira hates it. I love this fic so much. It heavily inspired code violet and changed the way I look at and think about Goro forever and ever I love it so much read it read it read it

it takes a village

Or, as I like to call it, The Akechi Fic. I legit had a major hyperfixation on this fic to the point where I read it three times in a row. It's more or less a NG+ where everyone remembers except Akechi. It is quite literally everything you could ever want from an Akechi redemption fic. After reading this I wondered if I ever needed to read another fic about him in my life because everything I ever wanted had already been delivered. There are so many moments in this masterpiece that make me go completely insane. This is my favorite fic of all time. Read it. Read it read it read it Please

[intern-seraph]

malleyuu accidental marriage fic interlude in which you arrive at the schoolhouse and greet your friends (aggressively)

First thing in the morning when you and Crowley arrive at the schoolhouse, you’re accosted by Ace and Deuce. It’s mostly Ace doing the accosting, really, but Deuce joins him in hanging on your back like the world’s heaviest and most annoying koalas. You shake them off and whip around to start wrestling with Ace. Deuce takes his loss better, choosing to sit on the grass and watch you and Ace play fight. Crowley clears his throat several times, probably to get your attention, but you’re preoccupied and he gives up quickly in favor of unlocking the door and stepping inside. There’s a holler nearby, a series of rapid footsteps, and another heavy body falls on you with a grunt.

“Epel!” you wheeze out, squirming on top of the also-squirming Ace. “Can’t breathe!”

“Oh!” Epel rolls off of you, and you roll off of Ace. “Sorry, looked like you were havin’ fun!”

“Was fun,” Ace mumbles, “until you two crushed me.”

“Oops.”

“You didn’t die, though,” you say before you get up. “Also you started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“How do you guys do this every morning?” says Jack as he trots up to join you all on the lawn. He rolls his eyes in a remarkable impression of his mother when she’s scolding all five of you. “We’ve gotta go to class.”

“Ace started it!” you repeat.

“Whatever, c’mon.”