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hitlikehammers · 3 months

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nowhere without you

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-final battle, hurt/comfort ♥️ tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, BIG emotions, even BIGGER love, as in: soul-deep love, softness; happy endings always ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

(also probably the humble love-soaked endlessly-devoted beginnings of the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien)

The weirdest part is how, in the aftermath, Eddie doesn’t speak. Like, at all.

Scratch that: it’s the weirdest and the most concerning part. Eddie makes noise, mostly pained kinda moans that make Steve’s chest clench, ache more the admittedly-decently-deep wounds slowly—but reliably, like, consistently—stitching themselves together, and Steve begs him to get looked at again, because something has to be wrong to cause those kinds of sounds but Eddie doesn’t even shake his head, doesn’t really move at all save that sometimes he trembles, and it’s…

It fucking breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s almost gotten used to stroking Eddie’s hair in silence—so wrong; worthy Eddie that’s just so wrong—and working any tangles out so, much as it’s getting a limp and greasy with days of neglect, at least it’s smooth; but he’s almost resigned to this for the long haul because he’ll weather anything he has to for Eddie and they’ll work through this, whatever this is, they’ll worth through it together and—

“How did you stand you it?”

The sound is more a scratch than anything, glass on sandpaper, and it’s down to Eddie lying where he hasn’t left for the last four, going on five days—as in, not once while Steve’s been awake has he existed without Eddie’s weight situated just so against his chest, sinuous and deliberate in where he presses against, careful as a rule of Steve’s worst injuries and delicate about how he rests against Steve’s body, but not…hesitant.

More, kinda…kinda desperate.

So it’s down to him being pressed so close and sure and unwavering that Steve feels him speak more than anything, matches the motion of his lips against Steve’s gown to words rather than the wind, or something outside his door to the halls of the hospital beyond; it’s down to the tension in the whole of him, the all-too-present shaking that Steve matches the scrape of the question to a hurt that’s…that maybe Steve doesn’t wholly understand just yet, but that really and truly does cut him deeper and closer and more critical at the core of him than the Upside Down ever could have clawed in: Eddie lives in him, nothing else can really…ever hope to be deeper.

“How are you,” Eddie rolls gravel across more words, and Steve’s missed his voice so fucking much, he didn’t realize how much until it’s here again for him to hear and hold but, Jesus fuck, it’s like…it’s like it’s drowning; like Eddie is drowning and then his breath is hitching, and oh, god, that voice is cracking around the edge of a sob, watery and wavering as he damn-near close to begs:

“How did you survive it?”

Steve feels it clench in his ribs, because he thinks he…he thinks he’s putting it together. The strain, the agony in that voice, that voice he loves so fucking much, from this man he loves with everything, but then—the way Eddie presses into him. The force, and the position, and the pattern. The way he’s been quiet, unfailing, but never…never seems distant, seems the opposite: seems focused; intent. The way Dustin had come in and caught him upon the things he’d missed in one of the almost-nonexistent windows where Eddie sleeps, hand lines alongside his sternum and head curled in the most uncomfortable pretzel Steve can imagine, forehead all scrunched and eyes squeezed shut so goddamn hard, looking like any sleep he manages is nothing close to rest by any measure: but Dustin had came in and told him Eddie was the first to him; Eddie ran faster than he’d seen a person run; Eddie’d looked devastated, broken when they’d caught up, and they’d been so afraid, feared the worst, and—

Steve’s starting to fit the pieces together. Maybe.

“No,” Eddie whines, pitchy and fervent and almost ear-splitting, like a wail of sheer gut-wrenching pain that Steve can’t find the reason for in the here and now because it’s just them in a hospital room, they’re okay, and his hand presses heavy, gentle around his wounds still, always gentle and so, so careful and Steve doesn’t know what’s caused the reaction, but then—

Then he can feel his fucking heartbeat for how hard Eddie’s pressing. It’s weird, how it makes him feel…strangely alive, the sensation of it kept and held like that, specifically in Eddie’s hand. And he’s not paying attention to the monitors really, tuned them out as quick as he could but when he listens, okay. Okay, maybe faster than normal, but Steve’s fucking worried, okay, he’s—

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans and twists his head, no, not just his head, his ear and leans harder into Steve’s chest, his breathing shallow and Steve hates it but he doesn’t know what to do, how to help, what to fix because he’ll fix it if he knows, he’ll climb out of this bed and crawl on the goddamn floors of he has to, but he doesn’t know where to go, what to find, what demon’s left to slay—

“I’m just, I’m grateful you did,” survive, Steve survived…

He survived, like, now?

“But grateful’s such a weak word, it doesn’t,” and Steve takes a breath, and reaches, rests his hand on Eddie’s wrist just to see: his heartbeat’s somuch faster, it’s like a flutter of a flutter felt strong enough to break through skin, it catches in Steve’s heart just to touch—

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever, like,” Eddie’s going on, still breathless and fuck, Steve can see why; “fucking hope to be.”

Shit, but that’s…he wasn’t stronger, fuck, Steve wasn’t stronger than Eddie, Eddie nearly got eaten alive, Steve nearly couldn’t staunch enough of the bleeding, he almost lost—

Eddie keens, horrible and hurting and Steve stills: the monitor. The thundering of his own pulse at the memory.

How did you survive it?

Losing. Almost losing. That’s…that’s what it is.

That’s why Eddie’s pressed against his chest, his his head and his hand have been a fucking frame, goddamn, like, parentheses surrounding Steve’s beating heart, proof of life, Jesus—

“But I need to be,” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but steadier, and his chin dips like a nod to himself; “I need to learn how,” he’s firm with it; “for you.”

Oh, god. Oh…oh Eddie.

“I can’t ever lose you, Steve,” Eddie presses trembling lips to Steve’s chest and then presses close again, so close and oh: he wasn’t just intent where he’s been silent so long.

He was listening.

“Never ever,” he breathes against Steve, hot and damp; almost kinda breathless again, or still: “never ever.”

“Eds,” Steve begins, not even entirely sure where he plans to go, just knows he needs to do something, say something, but Eddie’s turning Steve’s hand in his, where he’d circled Eddie’s wrist; he’s turning it and mirroring the hold, gripping Steve’s wrist in kind.

“I couldn’t find it,” he gasps, and the sound makes the sob clear before Steve feels the wetness soak through to his skin; “I couldn’t feel it at all, you were, it,” he presses his fingers in hard, squeezes so goddamn tight, and Steve can’t…he doesn’t want to imagine what Eddie had to do, what Eddie found and felt, he doesn’t but he can, because he remembers the mirror image so stark, it took him so long because he couldn’t find a pulse either, he’d had to press on Eddie’s heart at the source and even then—

“I couldn’t feel you.”

Oh. Fuck. He—

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s elevated enough at an angle that he can at least kiss Eddie’s hair, barely brush his scalp but it’s enough, for the breath that punches from Eddie against his chest it’s at least something; “that’s…”

“I won’t survive that again, Steve,” Eddie sucks in, unsteady and drenched with tears, with sorrow, but also…also more than anything else, they’re filled up with so much love.

A love big enough to hurt that hard.

“And I can’t…” Eddie gasps, breath catching; “I can’t handle not feeling it,” and his fingers tighten; his hand on Steve’s chest and his cheek across from it press down that extra little bit so Steve knows his own heartbeat in those moments full and deep.

“Have to feel it always,” Eddie whispers like he’s telling himself, and Steve, and Steve’s heart through flesh and bone, some cosmic secret no one else can know: too sacred. Too precious.

“You can feel it any time,” Steve lets his hand fall from Eddie’s to cover the hand Eddie’s got splayed ln his chest, counting time; holds him there almost protectively: “all the time,” and he slips his fingers between Eddie’s and shifts his palm close to the beating, so he can still feel what he needs as he murmurs with his heart literally in Eddie’s hands, with his entire goddamn soul:

“All of me. It’s yours.”

Unshakable fucking fact. He doesn’t even have to will it, or hope for it; his heartbeat knocks that heavier against their hands for those words like it knows.

It knows.

“Don’t leave me,” Eddie bursts out, begging; almost something primal, and Steve can feel the tremoring of his lips where they drag against him; “please. I’ll do anything, I swear it, just don’t—“

“Be you,” Steve braves the whimper that comes from untangling his hand from Eddie so that he can reach for Eddies cheek and cradle him in closer, and oh, fuck, thank god: something in him sighs out and loosens, ever so slightly—finally.

“Everything you are,” Steve presses on, runs his thumb back and forth through Eddie’s drooping curls; “let me love you, past living and dying,” and Eddie’s breath catches, for that, but Steve holds him tighter for it, drowns him as best he’s able in the proof he needs so bad; “don’t leave me,” and Eddie huffs a little for that, like it’s beyond believing, impossible, and Steve smiles to himself for it, tries to lean enough to press the grin to Eddie’s head, hopes he manages as he murmurs there close:

“That’s it, Eddie,” and he lets his fingers spread wider, cradle Eddie all the more: “that’s all I need.”

“That and more baby,” Eddie answers him between the double-beat of his pulse, immediate; “you’re the music and the rhythm,” he nuzzles a little against him, and Steve smiles a little wider for it; “you’re the reason my heart beats,” and Steve finds that heartbeat for himself at Eddie’s jaw, now; a little calmer. Not much. But: something.

It’s a start.

”I don’t have a reason without you,” Eddie exhales, vehement; “I don’t want a reason, without you.”

And Steve should maybe push on it, or be scared by it: but neither seem right, not for this.

Not for them.

Steve just holds Eddie’s pulse under the pressure of his touch, and holds Eddie’s cheek closer still into his chest as he breathes:

“You’re my whole heart, Eds,” and he lets a second pass, and then another, for that heart of Eddie’s to pump evidence unshakable against him, to play the song and rhythm straight into his waiting ear:

“Was never going anywhere without you.”

♥️ ao3 link here

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

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sanjiswetcigarettes0 · 6 months

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Acelaw people! I’m here to offer you my first and not so great acelaw Headcanon writing! Please accept my poor attempt on this 🙏🏻

To Be So Lonely

word count 1.530

If we think of acelaw where everything is real between them,

Law Trafalgar was a tough, quiet man and was someone who tried not to be involved in other things, trying to keep himself on the road he barely managed to put in a order his whole life, all he did is do his work as a surgeon and rescue other people’s life in the hospital. (Do not question his survival guilt.) The sea he had in his mind was always wild, and all he needed to do was to stay quiet until it quiet down too.

He kept himself alive with his coffees and his little crew most of the time, with his friends who sometimes came to his house to bringing some self made food and putting him to his untouched bed after their jobs end. He liked his life like this, and he knew the way his life wasn’t as healthy as his job expected him to be, but be assured, he liked it this way.

Trafalgar Law, who was “too busy for other people or any relationship”, (he kept saying that ) always would come home alone with his regular take-outs and coffee to greet his cats with a warm smile , would kneel to pet their heads and get his daily energy boost at 8:20 p.m from their purrs and meows. It has been like this since he graduated to become a surgeon as he promised himself as a kid, didn’t allowed people in his life, ( he hadn’t any clue how the crew became family to him in that time where he just met those people in uni and had some drink with them at his house, ) and why would it be different? He was fine with his awfully quiet life and night shifts.

But now, in the other hand, he was feeling quiet irritated with the fact that his cats were purring (for real now?) and wandering around a man’s feet he never met before; right now: on a Saturday morning where had a day off and could grind his coffee own and wake up late, he opened his front house door to find a man who was standing on the next front door and had boxes up to his freckled curvy nose, (he couldn’t see the obviously younger man’s whole face) chatting with a younger blonde man with long hair as his was.

Law could feel a frown take place on his serious face, (it’s his normal morning face, okay? ), he held his coffee mug tightly and tried to call his cats whispering over to the man’s feet trough the noisy chatting at 8:40 am quietly to avoid making any more noise this early, “ Beppo!” , “ Asami!” but causing to cough those two’s attention to him, make them turn to him with interest and to hear a “I’m inside if you need me, you go meet with your neighbour, and apologise for your noisiness!” from a calmer, British accented voice before the different looking kind man went inside and left the two of them alone on the hall of the apartment with a quiet, but calming awkwardness.

Law blinked restlessly, but had a break to look down to his cats rubbing on his fluffy slippers returning to their warm home meowing. He put his coffee cup to the ground , and then glanced at the man putting his boxes to stand normally, and finally, saw the man’s face who had the whole damn sun’s brightness on his freckled, smiley, pretty face.

His frown disappeared, weird, he thought , and to be completely honest, he was ready to curse for the noise he had to witness at this early hour of his off day- but for fuck’s sake, the man hadn’t plan to meet the best thing that ever happened to him, on that day. Nope, surely not this early in the morning.

The man who stole his cats had long wavy raven coloured hair, a crooked but heartwarming smile, something pretty and energetic Law didn’t expect to see this early. His freckled face was so openly, inviting the sun itself to shine more. He had broad shoulders looking pretty on a dark blue shirt, fewer tattoos visible under his folded arms on his pale skin and a charming smile that Law had to fight not to deceived.

Was to be so lonely finally enough?

“Oh hey! I’m Portgas Ace and am yer new front neighbour! m’ sorry for disturbing you, nice to meet ya!”

Said Ace, his long buff arms waving him and continuing to talking with his energetic voice like he really wasn’t freezing on this early spring morning,

“were they yer cats? I’m sorry they ran out to wander ‘round me, I guess they liked me!”

and before Law could part his nervously together pressed lips to talk and only stop to realise he was starting to communicate with this gorgeous (who even said that?) man standing before him, he wet his lips to say no and leave to be alone forever, again, but heard something unusual for the first-meeting from the man that changed everything for good.

Fuck.

In fact, he was socially awkward and couldn’t say no to save his own damn life, especially to someone like this weirdly good looking man who looked like he ate the fucking sun.

“Would ya like to have a breakfast with us?”

It was clearly a invite, huh?

And if you would ask him, Law definitely didn’t want to have the younger man to be a part of his lonely life, him bringing Law life and the energy to come home earlier, to see him every morning on his kitchen preparing him some healthy breakfast at 4:50 am, nor wanted to admit that he really went for kissing the young man’s warm smiley lips endlessly every time he would call him “ love”.

Everything had changed, he knew it, after he met Ace on the floor of his new house and had the most tastiest breakfast of his life prepared by Ace’s second little brother Sabo, and was welcomed like he was family while he was a stranger before 10 minutes, 3 years ago.

And as he noticed that he liked being around Ace those times, and getting pulled out of his house on his free days by him only to return to his house with warm and fuzzy feelings he never had , saying “maybe it isn’t too bad to have company” , it was now too late to return back to his cold quite days where he wasn’t all over a man whose the sun itself radiating warmth from his pure skin, giggling while his freckles were kissed. Where he didn’t have someone to make him laugh every day/ or even on a normal day.

He loved Ace, liked hearing him calling himself “the second dad” of the cats and one big dog they had together, and the warm (really warm!) nights & mornings they shared in the apartment that was now theirs. Petting Ace’s soft hair every time he fell asleep on Law while he was reading something about organs or narcolepsy was always something that made the two of them calmer, and feeling the other’s body heath getting even warmer with every kiss he got down his freckled belly underLaw’s big hands wasn’t something new.

“Ya got me heatin’ like a sunny day, darling, oh please don’t stop.”

It was like a dream, wanting was enough, sitting on their old British armchair, holding the man he loved the most in his arms tightly keeping him from jumping out while shouting “ yer gonna see when I kick yer ass when I see ya Roronoa!” to the tall younger man with moss coloured hair holding Luff’s hand, smirking while stealing the younger brother of Ace from the “ the together night” where everyone they loved were together. He was laughing intensely, pulling Ace from his waist to make him sit back on his thighs, then stroking the raven hair he loved most, saying “ leave the youngsters alone, they’re still figuring everything out, ” while giggling. It was like Law had two big energetic dogs, but one of them was definitely a handsome young man he wanted to marry, he must’ve admit that. Everyone were together, and being lonely wasn’t even the thing anymore. Surely, he still got headaches over the sunshine man talking nonstop to his ear, but never felt overwhelmed or never wanted to be alone, ever.

When Ace joined to his lonely, busy life and never left his side although Law himself couldn’t get used to being loved for so long, but he never gave up and fought for their feelings. He knew he loved this man with his whole life. Being lonely wasn’t a option anymore, he knew how spring brought him the biggest treasure to him, because could feel the love inside him when he couldn’t even let go of this man’s body to get up from their bed, murmuring quietly, “ I’ll be back at midnight.” while kissing his freckled face.

Trafalgar Law was now in love; a happy man who would stop by a coffee shop to bring home some pumpkin spice latte every autumn just to see his fiancé’s happy face because it was worth it. Say, could it even be better?

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