#hurt/comfort kinda??
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[Day 174]
You aren't alone
In these trying times I decided to not do angst tdy actually we need some fluff
They get hugs🫂
#dddaily4sherin#grian#goodtimeswithscar#pearlescentmoon#life series#trafficblr#traffic smp#hermitcraft#hermitblr#its the “they get back to hermitcraft after life series” thingy and the winners find each other#i said we need some fluff but this is more hurt/comfort kinda and i drew this while looping by your side in the bg i need to punch a wall#scar deserves all the hugs#my art
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affirming word.
your first argument with al haitham is one you are sure you’ll never forget. not because of his piercing words and the cold way he stares back at you, but because of his desperate reassurance. the soft way he held you as apologies were uttered, and the gentle way he cared for every tear you shed.
a/n: waah this is my first fic on this account !! cheers ^^
w/c: ~1.5k
warnings: not proof read (im lazy my bad) mentions of arguments, insecurities. hurt/comfort
al haitham has been in maybe, one relationship before this one, you gather. there’s a certain coarseness to the way he approaches love and being in love with you that bleeds with lack of experience. it is not a slight against him, in fact, you’d consider it the furthest from that. you are honored to have been so cherished by someone who claims to not have time for trivial things. if al haitham is good at one thing, beyond mathematics or research or memorization, it is making you feel like you are not and will never be “trivial” to him. he remembers every date, he recalls every small detail, and he does everything he can, even in his busy schedule to make time for you. because you are the one he chose, and you are beyond his preconceptions about the usefulness and reason for “falling in love,” or other trifling activities.
so, when he calls you just that -- useless and pointless and trivial, it stings. and it stings for more than an hour, after the silence has settled in your shared living space and dinner has gone cold. it stings every time he looks at you, unable to control his cold and calculating frustration. even by the time said frustration is no longer directed at you but at himself for getting caught up -- for the escalation to petty insults rather than progress towards a natural solution. even as you both stand up and say you’re sorry for hurting each other and promise to listen and care. you are still left stinging. you ache all over, even as you lie in bed with him, his warm arms pulling your form close as you both whisper declarations of retreat, compromise, and love. you close your eyes and take in his scent, woody, almost a bit musky and just a twinge reminiscent of a well kept library. you would find solace here, but you cannot help but ache. your eyes sting with salt and self-admonishment as you sleep, feeling as though the two of you are left further apart than you were before.
it’s been several days now. the sounds of the bustling streets and the near silence of the akademia’s halls do nothing to comfort your still stirring heart. you see al haitham every day, you tell him you love him every day (because you do, and you’ll be damned before the aftermath of a finished argument tells you that you do not). he echoes the same, but still you think
trivial? were you nothing but pointless and foolish? did your beloved boyfriend, in times of distress, think of you as the very things he swore not to make you feel you were? it hurts to feel distant from him, but you’re sure he hasn’t noticed. in fact, you think it’s better that he hasn’t noticed. he’s a busy, busy man. and, really, he shouldn't be worried about something as frivolous as the way you feel about a pain that’s passed silently for days. you’ll get over it, because you’ve already talked and you love him and that should be enough.
but you forget, that al haitham, while not a fool, is foolishly in love with you. he is a man that gets what he needs and what he wants and when there are obstacles in his path he devises clear plans to avoid them. the only thing he would readily admit to making mistakes over is you. you and your smile that lights up his entire world, you and the way you care for him and challenge his mind in the most electrifying way. you who holds him as he sinks into the depths of his mind, and you who promises him eternity, irrational as that may be. so when you distance yourself, drowning in your own hurt, al haitham is planning. your wounds are like aching scars on his back. prickling with pain and a reminder of his failing, not to himself, but his failing to provide you with the world as you deserve. he sits in his office, stiff and cautious. what on earth could it be that has sent you away from him? what sort of thorns have coated your heart and how should he cut through them to get to you?
you don’t think much of it, when you’re called into al haitham’s office today. you expect nothing more than an update about his findings. you’ll walk in, say hello, chat for a time until you realize you’ve veered off course and then you’ll depart with timid “i love you”s and you’ll stare into the silence as you hope for the short moment to lift your heart the way it had before it was wounded. you do not expect to see him staring anxiously at the door as you enter. you do not expect him to run a hand through his pretty gray hair and quietly ask you a question.
“could you lock the door?” you do, but you’re holding your breath. dread floods your veins and you cannot help but feel intimidated as he stands and approaches you. in an attempt to flee from your racing mind and heart, you change the subject.
“hi, dear. did you need something? i should have given you the report from—” you’re silenced by the worried look on his face. it’s a foreign expression, one where his shining, always focused eyes dart around you with a mixture of something like fear and hurt, and one where his built arms hang awkwardly at his sides as he figures out what to say first.
“there’s something wrong,” he starts. your breath hitches and you’re forced to break eye contact. al haitham frowns. “please don’t do that. please look at me.” the plea hurts your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to do just that. you try to wave it off.
“there’s nothing—” but the shake in your voice betrays you. he waits for you to open up. for you to take the first step, because your comfort is his priority, but you can tell with the tension in the air that he will cut through if you do not. al haitham gets what he needs, and what he needs more than life is your happiness. you’re sure of that now, as you look back at his expression, endlessly full of concern for you. you can’t bring yourself to lie anymore. “okay, maybe there is something.”
“may i inquire?” he says it so timidly you’d think he’s another person. you can’t stop yourself from sighing.
“i just… it’s stupid. i don’t think it’s worth making a big deal. i’ll be over it soon.” the deadpan look on his face says otherwise.
“you have been… apart from your usual self. for longer than three nights. i’m worried about you.” al haitham’s admission is shaking, but resolute. his soothing voice quakes just the slightest bit, but he refuses to back down. you cave at his look, just as you always do.
“i‘m just… still hurt. over what you said, when we argued? i didn’t want you to feel bad since we already moved on from the problem but i keep thinking about it and hearing it in my head. you called me trivial.” al haitham pauses, as if recounting the event. you continue. “i know you probably didn’t mean it, but i can’t help but think that maybe…”
“stop,” he says with a gentleness reserved only for you. he places his hands gently on your shoulders while silently asking for permission in his gaze to pull you close. you nod, and suddenly his hand is patting the back of your head softly, as if you’re the most cherished being in the universe itself.
“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” you feel your eyes welling up with tears as he holds you close and admits fault. he pulls away slightly, but only to dry your tears with his thumb.
“you are everything to me. and it was only foolish of me to have allowed things to progress to this point. i would move mountains and slay the worst of foes just to see you happy. i have taken away part of your smile, even for a second. and for that i am so sorry.”
there is a tenderness in his eyes. you couldn’t imagine a more beautiful expression if you tried, and it is then that you realize he is not used to wearing this expression. he is clumsy in the way he squeezes you, and although he is intelligent, he is also inept in maintaining his usual aloofness as he reassures you that you will never be a waste of his time. it is then too, that you notice the fear squandering his composure as he promises to love you for what may be the millionth time.
you relax and while you cry in his arms, you allow al haitham’s affirming word into your heart, never to be shaken again.
#al haitam x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#al haitham genshin#al haitham fluff#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact hurt/comfort#he's kinda been living in my brain the past few days tbh#al haitham come be my math tutor challenge#unrelated to the fic. i just wanted to say#rue's love letters
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Erm.... Random comic ideas I had that would work instead of whatever the fuck they had now
Huskerdust comic
Transcript::
*Making drinks*
Husk: Here. You've been acting weird lately
Angel: Whaddya mean? —i haven't been acting any differently?
Husk: if you say so,
Angel: if anything you're being weird. Why do you care?
Husk: I don't. I'm glad you feel less touchy, but. I can't help but notice how unusual it is. — especially for you.
Angel: I guess.
Husk: fuck you mean "I guess"?
Angel: ...
Husk: listen uh, I don't do this a lot. Or at all, but if somethings bothering you angel. You can tell me. —but you don't gotta tell me anythin if you don't want to.
*Flinch*
Angel: yeah uh— I'm not ready. To talk about it....
Husk: okay.
.
Explanation:
So basically some context is.. and brief s/a mentioned but not enough to be censored
I hated the idea of EP 4 so I had this idea that instead of it being explicitly shown or described. I thought about what my friend said and just shown through the victims behavior. Angel definitely stopped being flirty and touchy as he was with husk and he noticed that.
So he commented about it when Angel came to get a drink, I'd say it's pretty late anyway so they're alone at the bar.
Husk isn't much of a person for contact comfort or touch at all. So he doesn't mind that the angel seems unsettled by it now, he just finds it a bit odd.
So he respects that and lets him lean into him for comfort.
Because angel was never the one who got to dictate that, he felt that husk did care about his boundaries and how he felt. Especially in that moment when providing comfort was hard to do.
#hazbin#hazbin husk#hazbin angel dust#hazbin art#hazbin hotel but i dont support viv or the show so i made my own designs cus ths original are kinda lackluster!!!??#hazbin hotel written MY WAY#hurt/comfort#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#huskerdust#husk x angel dust#hazbin fanart#hazbin hotel fanart
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to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)
rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending
for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)
this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️
“Oh fuck, not you, too.”
Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—
“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.
“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“
“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—
He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.
That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.
“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.
But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.
He swallows anyway; not that it helps.
“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—
“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”
Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.
But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.
“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.
“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.
“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.
“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:
Not you.
“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.
He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark:
“I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.
Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.
“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:
“That you’re here, too.”
And, oh. Okay.
Okay.
They’re here, then. Together.
Here.
___________________
It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.
They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.
For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.
He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?
Who’s gonna fucking know?
Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.
He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.
He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.
He craves this.
He doesn’t know what that fucking means.
But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.
And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.
But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…
Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:
That’s not death.
___________________
Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—
Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.
Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.
He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—
“What the fuck?”
Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.
Doesn’t change his question.
Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.
“Where the hell did those come from?”
Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”
Steve gapes a little.
“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck
“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.
Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:
“Pick your poison.”
And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…
“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:
“Go Fish?”
And Steve, he, like—
This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.
He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…
In a while.
___________________
“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.
“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.
They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.
“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:
“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:
“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.
They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.
“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“
“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.
“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—
Steve likes how they fit.
“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”
Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.
___________________
“You’re really good company.”
Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.
“What?”
Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.
“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”
Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.
“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”
And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside.
“Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:
“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:
“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.
And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:
“Me too, sweetheart.”
And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—
___________________
Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.
He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…
It’s not just his smile.
“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.
“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.
“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—
“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?
Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…
That feels more
___________________
It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.
“You called me big boy.”
Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.
His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.
Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—
“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”
Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.
“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—
“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—
“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.
“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—
“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.
Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.
But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.
“You’re not stupid, Steve.”
Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.
“I’m very stupid.”
And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?
And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.
“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:
“About, you know, matters of the heart.”
Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:
“Heart?”
But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:
He thinks he can hear the hope.
“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.
“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—
“And kiss me, you dick.”
Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—
“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.
“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”
Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.
“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.
“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?
Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?
Fuck. Fuck.
If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.
___________________
He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.
The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.
Steve fucking hates it.
“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.
“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.
He cannot fucking accept that.
“I don’t want you to die at all.”
Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—
“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—
“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.
“Maybe we’ll wake up.”
Maybe. Maybe.
“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:
“Kiss me again when we wake up.”
And Steve will, he will, but.
He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.
He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.
So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…
Whatever happens will take them both.
___________________
Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—
“Eddie!”
He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—
And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.
Covers his hands. Presses.
And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—
“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—
There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.
“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:
“That the only reason?”
He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—
Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—
Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:
“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:
not-dead, not-dead, not-dead
in-love, in-love, in-love—
tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690
♥️
divider credit here
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#hurt/comfort#falling in love#angst with a happy ending#(also oddly fluffy?)#presumed dead#(but obviously NOT)#happy ending#the black void place with the water on the floor is LIMBO#and they maybe kinda fall for each other in the space between life and death because OF COURSE THEY DO#and these boys are maybe kinda stuck there#steddielovemonth#love is a fire that never goes out#stranger things
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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 4
part 1 part 2 pt. 3
this one i am excited for, i hope you guys like it...
🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ
February 1991, Chicago
Robin has a particular hatred for winter rain. It’s cold, damp and makes everything grey. She doesn't mind the rain in the summer—where it makes everything smell fresh and makes all the greens look bright.
Winter rain, though? Belongs in a circle of hell.
Admittedly, it's more than the way the downpour chills her to the bone. It's always a bad omen, a sign of what's to come. Most people find her paranoid, except Steve. He always nods his head in understanding; Robin can't tell if it's because he just understands her or because the winter rain makes his bones ache.
Robin shakes the water out of her hair as she walks up the steps to her apartment with Steve and Eddie. The bad feeling in her stomach doesn't ease up, creeping further and further up her throat until she worries she might choke on it. She takes her time going up the six flights of stairs, taking deep breaths, convincing herself that everything is fine and it's all in her head.
By the time she makes it to the door, Robin feels lighter.
Pushing through the doorway, Robin lets a small smile rest on her lips as her eyes look around to see who's home.
Her eyes land on Steve, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.
It's then she notices Steve is home, but Eddie isn't.
Steve lifts his head, tears in his eyes. "He's gone, Robs. Eddie left."
The rain could eat shit. Fuck.
🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ
June 1996, Chicago
Robin waits until Steve leaves and a few minutes extra before making her way into the living room.
She knows the bastard is still here; Robin saw it coming from a mile away.
Trudging towards the couch in Steve's boxers and what she is sure is her ex-girlfriend's t-shirt, Robin smacks Eddie upside the head.
Hard.
"Ow! What the fuck, Buckley?" Eddie squirms, rubbing his head with a pout.
"Oh, shut it, Munson. You know that a slap is the least of your worries. You better believe something on you will be broken by the time you leave again." Robin huffs, her face going red.
Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Will you at least come talk to me before you cause me more bodily harm?" He pats the spot on the couch next to him like it isn't Robin's fucking couch.
Robin begrudgingly decides he's right and plops down next to him with a glare. "Trust me, Munson. We will be doing plenty of talking. And by we, I mean me."
"Don't you want to hear my sid—Ow! Birdie, for the love of god, stop hitting me." Eddie rubs his arm.
"No."
"No you won't hear me out, or no you won't stop hitting me?"
Robin levels him with a look so vicious that she is almost certain if he holds eye contact any longer, he will be set on fire.
Eddie's shoulder's slump, "Right."
Robin huffs through her nose, trying to fight back a smile. She will not crack around this idiot, even if torturing him brings her a special kind of joy. "Munson, unless the reason was 'if you didn't leave, Steve was going to die,' then you don't have a good reason."
A small smile makes its way onto Eddie's face, and Robin lightly slaps his knee. "Why are you smiling? You don't get to smile right now."
Eddie deosn't even flinch, "Nothing, it's just you specified Steve dying, and not the two of you or anyone else. Like Steve dying would be the issue. It's nice to see some things never change."
"You see that's where you're wrong, Munson." Robin gets really close in his face, "We've only gotten worse."
Eddie's smile is a full-blown grin now. Robin can't help but be a little charmed.
If Robin is honest with herself, and Steve encourages her to do so more often, she really misses Eddie. Despite her being angry at him, she's happy to have him here to be angry at. But once she's over that, she will be kicking him the fuck out of their apartment.
Something twisted lands in Robin's stomach as she makes her way back into her spot on the couch. Eddie doesn't get it that he left them. He left not just Steve but Robin, too. They were best friends, and suddenly, he's gone.
And on top of that, Robin had to watch Steve crumble, and it just isn't something she thinks she can ever get over.
For years, Robin watched Steve pick himself up over and over again. Resilient, brave, and sometimes a little stupid. That's her Steve. But after Eddie left, she was worried that this time he wouldn't get back up.
She can't go through that again.
Unfortunately though, Robin fears she might need Eddie's fucking help with something.
These boys will be the death of her.
"No more smiling, Munson. This is serious." Robin clears her throat.
"Right." His grin slips off his face. "You were saying you wanted to do the talking?"
Robin looks to the doorway, nervous. As if Steve is going to walk through any moment, despite not leaving all that long ago. She just knows how dates with Drew go. Sometimes Steve will come home early, frustrated and quiet, closed off in ways she hasn't seen in a long time. Other times he won't come home for days, Drew deciding he needed some alone time with Steve.
Robin isn't sure which she hates more.
She shakes her head, knowing she is being unreasonable—not on the hating Drew part (which is really what it is, down to its core) but on Steve coming back early. No matter what happens between Steve and Drew, Robin knows he is dreading coming back to this apartment with Eddie in it or, even worse, with Eddie gone.
"You're going to help me."
Eddie's eyebrows furrow, and Robin almost expects him to question it, to demand answers. Instead, he surprises her. "Okay, what do you need?"
Robin takes a deep breath, "We need to get Steve out of a bad relationship."
Worry falls over Eddie's face, "Is he okay? What happened? Is she hurting him?"
Ah. Robin forgot about that part. Eddie doesn't exactly know about Steve's sexuality. It isn't like the man isn't out—Steve has been out to their friends for years now—but it feels wrong to tell Eddie without consulting Steve yet.
She is going to have to work around it.
"Steve's...fine." Robin doesn't reall know actually. Lately, it's been like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk about Drew. She fucking hates that man. "He's unhappy, though. This person isn't good for him, and I think me saying it isn't enough."
Eddie rubs a hand down his face, "And how am I supposed to help that? Steve doesn't exactly want me around." His arms gesture towards the room in a dramatically flair.
Oh, this silly, silly man, Robin thinks. Unfortunately, he's exactly what Robin needs—more specifically, what Steve needs.
"True."
"Okay, hurtful."
Robin waves him off, "I'm not going to lie to you, Munson. We are both pissed at you. But I am worried about Steve. And I care more about him than I am angry at you. Despite all the shit you did, he cares about you. Because this is Steve. He cares a whole lot and gives a whole bunch without expecting anything. And he deserves better. And I think—no, I know, if he has two of his oldest friends showing him that, maybe he'll listen."
Robin fails to mention that regardless of how this plan goes, she will have her revenge on Eddie, to, ya know, even the score.
Eddie huffs through his nose, "Okay. Of course, I'll help. Besides, I was already planning on sticking around. I don't want to run away, not this time."
"Good." Robin lets a small smile slip onto her face, "Besides, you're a terrible athlete. Don't know why you insist on trying."
A dry laugh escapes Eddie, "Wow, thanks, Bridie. Missed you too."
Robin pushes him playfully. "If you're gonna stick around, maybe I'll hear you out, Eddie. But not now. Not yet. Don't know if this going to be long term; consider this a temporary truce."
Robin expects him to whine and contest it, but instead, Eddie looks delighted. "You called me Eddie."
Robin groans, "Don't ruin it."
Eddie grabs her hand, their rings clanking against each other, and gives it a squeeze. "Sorry, no take backs."
Robin says nothing, but squeezes back.
🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ
i don't get to write her pov very often, but it is so fun. next update we will finally get a peak into Eddie's whole deal. Tag list is closed, but you can put notifs on the first part, I always put the link on the there.
tag list! (closed):
@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic
@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec
@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch
@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls @themoonagainstmers
@lingermirth @steddiecameraroll @my2amgaythoughts @stevah-hawcett @steventhusiast
@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly
@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde
@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking @theheadlessphilosopher @friendlyorange @lunaraquaenby
@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate @scooby-dum86 @awkwardgravity1
@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland
#see? it's getting happier#kinda#trust me it's going happy places#we just gotta build#also thanks for the hype it motivates me#also i know some of you at this point live in my walls#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#my writing#platonic stobin#ficlet#angst#hurt comfort#i wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind)#ao3
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LIMERENCE (II)
Gojo Satoru x gn!reader
part i here
summary: Gojo is uncharacteristically insecure and unsure to the point of double guessing himself—something practically unheard of for the self-proclaimed Honored One. Meanwhile, the ever-feared blood-laden flowers make an unwelcome appearance.
word count: 6.7k
warnings: mentions of sickness and blood, descriptions of vomiting (caution to fellow ppl with emetophobia), characters are anxious and stressed!, cussing (obvs), use of (Y/N), kidnapping!
genre: hanahaki disease au, hurt/comfort, lowkey mystery?
a/n: Here is part 2 (finally lol)! It is a whole 6.7k words (😫) to make up for not updating until now haha. This chapter features serious!Gojo and worried!Gojo 😳. It seems out of character but it’s intentional (or so I claim). Also, I kinda make a pun out of Utahime’s name—hime (姫) means princess in Japanese! Two last notes: for clarification—I use italics to emphasize things, but also for characters’ thoughts. Geto is still alive (still excommunicated tho) in this timeline. More notes at the end of the chapter!
“Hey, ‘Hime, when’s your lunch break today?”
He hears a scoff that hardly conceals the crackly laugh that follows through his speakers. Her laugh is delicate and bright, even over the phone.
“Don’t call me that, Gojo. Never been into the princess thing.”
“We’ve been over this, it’s Satoru. And what should I call you then? Hime is perfect, it’s literally in your name.”
“I’ll call you Satoru if you call me by my real name: Utahime.”
“You’re so boringgg! Come on!” He whines, pretending to pout.
Utahime breathes in sharply at his words, “Satoru…you shouldn’t say things like that.”
Gojo stops walking. His brow creases in confusion: this is how he has always behaved, with obviously facetious and playful words. Even the people that claim they can’t stand him the most, like Shoko and Nanami, recognize when his words are intentionally over the top or ridiculous. Utahime also knows this: he has not concealed this aspect of his personality from her.
He can’t stop his next words from being spoken with a twinge of annoyance. “I was kidding, you know. Is something wrong?”
Utahime sighs, “No, no. Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed since the higher-ups asked for a meeting with me. Have no idea what it’s about…”
“They did? So, you’re not free for lunch? Please say you are…”
His words feel unnatural and stilted, but he brushes the feeling aside. He’s probably just nervous since it’s her, right?
“Yeah, I’m going to my meeting in a few, but I should be able to make it. Could you get the reservation for us?” Utahime asks, tone leaning on snippy.
“Mm, maybe. What’s the magic word?” He teases with a playful tone, trying to lighten her mood. This should work, it should make her feel better. He has experience with this.
“C’mon Gojo, not now,” She groans, apparently disgruntled. “But, fine, could you please make the reservation?”
He frowns. Not exactly the reaction he anticipated.
“Okay, but next time you gotta call me Satoru,” He says with a small awkward chuckle, this time easing up a bit on his teasing tone. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, though.”
“Sure,” She snorts, but not in the way that she would if she thought it was funny. It’s a sardonic snort, rather, and he would bet money that her eyes are rolling.
A loud click signals the end of conversation, but his phone remains pressed to his ear. He lowers it slowly, a strange feeling swirling in his chest. It’s an uneasy, heavy feeling from deep down, but he can’t discern what exactly it means.
“Why would I expect that to work?” He mutters to himself. “That’s so annoying, who would tolerate that?”
Suddenly, an image flashes under his eyelids, almost making him flinch at how intensely it conjures itself. A vivid apparition of you doubled over in laughter appears in his mind. It’s a memory, he realizes: you’re leaning on him as tears part from your eyes, unable to catch your breath due to how hard you’re laughing at one of his horrible, stupid jokes.
He remembers this moment well. You had been crying for real before—quietly sniffling, trying to hide it from him. He knew that you hated crying in front of others—trying to always appear strong, he knew this feeling well—so he started direct attention away from it with the corniest jokes he could make. That’s when your tears, first full of the hurt that he could clearly see in your crumpled expression, turned into ones of relief and joy. Your eyes had sparkled with some other emotion he couldn’t identify—something familiar, something that made him feel warm in the chest, but also made him feel so, so scared.
He never did figure out what it was. Or, rather, he has tried not to dwell on it. Every time it pops into his head, he pushes it down, the fear rising in him each time he comes closer to the answer.
Utahime never made him feel like that. That must be better. He never feels scared like that when he thinks of his feelings for her. That must be better, it has to be.
He enjoys talking to Utahime. He likes that he can get under her skin with little effort, likes how easily he can get a rise out of her: and most of the time, she’s amused by it, giggling and slapping his arm. He’s never scared with Utahime, but…why does something feel wrong?
His fingers, typing in his name for the reservation, pause and begin to tremble when he sees what he typed. He typed your name. His eyes widen beneath his blindfold—he’s grateful it helps to conceal his expression, even if nobody he knows is around. In truth, this is partly why he seldom removes it; he masks his true emotions more often than not. Not that anyone suspects it, though, too convinced by his saccharine smiles and forever jocular personality.
The blue horizontal line blinks in and out of existence as his fingers hover over his keyboard. Your name, though written in normal text, appears bolded to him: it sucks his attention away from anything else on his screen. He begins to break out in a sweat.
Sweating just from their name? How pathetic…
He shakes his head, frantically backspacing, trying to erase all traces of you from his mind. He’s been trying to do this for months, ever since he began to distance himself from you. There is a legitimate reason he has been giving you the cold shoulder, but it feels like an excuse to drive away this fear that grips him when he thinks of that warmth, that sparkle in your eyes.
Fuck. Now he can’t get that image of you out of his mind—his chest aches, his breathing comes quicker, but he does not know why.
He walks almost endlessly in the town he booked the restaurant in, in a pace-like fashion. His large stature and height make the brisk pace he walks at look absurdly hurried to passerbys: they stare at him unabashedly and he barely notices.
It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes how much time has passed since he called Utahime. His reservation is soon: he will be late if he doesn’t start walking there now. Shit.
His breath comes heavy when he finally reaches the restaurant. It’s a casual yet nice ramen place—something familiar yet suitable for a lunch date. He’s wearing a baby blue button down shirt, nice slacks, and trades in his blindfold for heavily shaded sunglasses: also suitable for a lunch date.
A date. Yes, that’s what he’s on. A nice lunch date with a girl whom he kissed before the first date. A bit untraditional, not that he would be one to mind.
He approaches the hostess, about to ask for a table for two, but then he spots a familiar red ribbon perfectly adorning the dark strands of hair she always pulls back. She’s already here, sitting alone in the corner.
Gojo sighs. Fuck, ‘messed up again.
He hurriedly stumbles over to Utahime, probably looking a bit disheveled. She gives him a questioning glance at his appearance—Gojo laughs and immediately plasters on an easy smile.
“Hey,” He says nonchalantly, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.
“Hey. You’re late,” She notes, but she doesn’t sound as bothered as he thought she would. “Did something happen? You look…like something happened.”
He goes along with it, sighing dramatically, “How’d you know? Yeah, Yaga was bothering me about some mission stuff. Dumb paperwork I’m supposed to do and whatever.”
She smiles, but it’s tight lipped, “Of course. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty.”
“I am?” He questions, feigning confusion, but his next words are partly true. “Ah, well, I realized I was gonna be late since he was pestering me so much. Guess I walked too fast.”
“Hmm,” Is all she says. She stirs the tea in front of her with a small spoon, expression blank as she does so.
Once he realizes she isn’t going to initiate talking further, he takes it upon himself, “How did the meeting go?”
She stops stirring. She sets down the spoon more harshly than she means to: it clangs loudly on the tea tray.
“I have some questions,” She says seriously.
“Questions? About what?” He asks.
Her dark, stormy eyes meet his. “…About you.”
He gulps, “Sure! What type of questions? You know, people ask me a lot of stuff. I’m sure I can handle anything.”
He winks at her, his usual smirk spreading across his face. Maybe if he jokes he can diffuse this god-awful tension. Not that it worked before, but he can try.
Utahime blinks slowly, exhaling deeply, as if attempting to calm herself down. He can see the fire in her eyes between blinks.
“How about that the higher-ups were asking me about my relation to you, when they believed you to only show interest in someone else?”
No. They can’t still believe that.
Terror strikes Gojo’s heart, electrifying his nerves, but he tries to play it off. He breathes out a chuckle and a few weak words, “That wasn’t a question.”
“For once in your life, be serious! We’ve only been dating for 3 weeks and I–” She inhales deeply. “I don’t think it’s a good sign that you’re intentionally avoiding answering me about this.”
“I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Who did they even ask about? I can’t think of anyone they could say that about.” He’s lying through his teeth. Alarm bells are ringing through his head, and he dreads her answer.
She narrows her eyes, but seems convinced enough at his alleged cluelessness.
“They were asking about (Y/N). Asking about…your relationship with them. About how close you are. Asking if it’s changed.”
Gojo takes a sip from his glass, avoiding her eyes.“Well, did they say why? Seems awfully strange to ask you about it.”
She’s silent for a few seconds, mulling over her next words. They end up making Gojo bristle. “Satoru, you know I couldn’t tell you even if they did.”
His tone is abruptly serious. “The hell does that mean?”
She blinks at him slowly, with anger flashing in her dark eyes. “Gakuganji is very involved with them. If I told you, it would definitely get back to him. Who knows how he would punish me.”
"So you'd rather possibly endanger (Y/N)?" Gojo scoffs.
“Who said anything about danger?” Utahime says lowly, suspicion clear in her voice.
“Well, when the higher ups ask questions about my life, it usually isn’t just for fun,” Gojo says with a shrewd smile. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking so I can only assume the worst.”
“Does this really matter right now? (Y/N) is capable enough if it does turn out like that, and besides, I sorted it all out. Told them that your ‘relationship’ is fine and dandy and yada yada.”
Gojo sucks in a breath, nerves beginning to turn in his stomach. No. No! That’s not what I wanted…
Utahime doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continues, “You two have always been close…didn’t you have a thing for each other in high school? They have always had these eyes for you.”
Her tone is strange, gushing and gossipy yet also jealous.
“What?” Gojo says more loudly than intended as he takes in all of the information Utahime just casually dropped.
“You know, I even told them that you two were meant to be together,” She chuckles. “Funny how things work out—or, rather, don’t work out.”
Gojo’s stomach twists painfully at her insinuation—even though it shouldn’t. He likes Utahime, he’s with Utahime. Not with you. He’s not with you, he has never been with you.
“Gojo,” Utahime says suddenly. He blinks rapidly in surprise, eyes finally landing on hers. “Can we agree to be honest with each other?”
“Of course. What do you mean?” He says easily, nervously.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” She shakes her head. “You’re deflecting at every question I ask. You’re not as slick as you think you are.”
Gojo lets himself sigh this time.
He studies her expression. She’s beautiful, he has to admit. She’s beautiful, but she’s not you.
“Utahime…what is this all about?” He asks slowly.
“I should be asking you that,” She counters. “Why did you ask me out if you won’t actively participate in our relationship?”
“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?” Gojo responds carefully.
“But you mind isn’t,” Utahime sighs. “You’re miles away, Satoru. You always are. When you’re with me, you’re not thinking of me, are you?”
The question is so accurate that it seems rhetorical to Gojo, to the point of him not responding for many moments before he realizes she is genuinely asking him.
It’s so true and yet he physically cannot bring himself to admit to it. “I mean, I think about the higher-ups and work related stuff a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been that present on dates and stuff, but–”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Gojo!” Utahime hisses out, tone bordering on venomous. “You’re always thinking about them. You make decisions thinking of them. I bet even when you kiss me, you think about them. Are you going to deny that?”
“Utahime…” He says softly, guilt constricting his vocal chords.
“I don’t understand you, Gojo. You asked me out and have taken me on fancy dates as if you want a committed relationship, but then your mind is always wandering away. I know that you still care for them, but then I heard from Shoko that you’ve been ignoring them for months. And then the fucking higher-ups ask me your relationship with them. Why would they ask me that and why would they even care? Something isn’t adding up. What’s really going on here?”
Gojo blinks in surprise at the depth of concern in her voice. It’s like she has already moved on from her jealousy towards you, and now is worried for you.
He must look surprised, because she adds on, “Just so you know, I’m not that sad. You’re kind of a shithead for doing this to me, but this wasn’t that serious for me. Obviously not for you, either.”
Gojo winces. Everything she has said so far has been true, but he wishes it wasn’t.
“Iori, I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t even realize that…that I was doing that,” Gojo sighs. “And to answer your question—I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I think I owe it to you. I don’t know what’s going on either, and that’s what scares me. I have no idea what they want or what they’re plotting, but it can’t be anything good.”
Utahime sits there with a small smirk on her face. When he raises an eyebrow at her expression, she just chuckles and shakes her head. “You can’t even say their name. Just how much denial are you in?”
He can’t even answer. He just sits there, a hand brushing his cheeks in order the cover the warmth the rises at the mention of the depth of his denial concerning his feelings for you.
When she realizes he isn’t going to answer, Utahime rises out of her seat. “Well, I guess I can say I’m officially breaking up with you, not that you or I really care. Just…if you need help with this, just know I’m in your corner, yeah? Unless it’s something to do with Gakuganji, and in that case my hands would be tied. Otherwise, just ask. You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I rooted for you guys in high school. That’s a fact and I can’t deny it.
You should really figure this out—for their sake. It sounds like they’re not having the best time with it. And besides, as much as it pains me to say it, you owe it to yourself after fighting against whatever feelings you have had for them for so many years.”
He doesn’t interrupt her even once, instead quietly absorbing her advice. He fidgets at the mention of his feelings for you, still uncomfortable even at the thought of them. Still scared.
“Goodbye for now, Satoru. I hope you figure all this shit out. Have a nice lunch,” She says coldly as she readies her things. Her coldness stings a bit, but what else could he expect?
“Oh, one last thing,” Utahime pauses. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this, but I guess you’re too in over to head right now to think straight. I think I might know partly why they have taken an interest in (Y/N).”
Gojo’s gaze turns to her sharply, blue eyes bright with curiosity behind his shades. “Why? How do you know?”
“I think the higher-ups must have asked Yaga about them. I forgot until now, but they were asking me if I knew anything about (Y/N)‘s identity. And who would know better than anyone? Your nosey principal who digs deep on everyone,” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a small but humorless laugh. “Well, that should be it then. Bye, ex-boyfriend.”
She gives him one last look, then struts away with her head held high. He sincerely hopes she isn’t hurting too much, despite her very “okay with it” façade.
So it has to do with your identity? In Satoru’s view, you have somewhat of an average identity for a sorcerer. A grade one sorcerer who comes from a sorcerer family. You had not inherited your clan’s special innate technique, but you are still pretty strong regardless. There’s nothing unusual about your background, or at least to the best of his knowledge.
And yet this sickening feeling has begun to creep into his stomach, that feeling that something is horribly wrong. What he does not know is what he cannot control, and each heartbeat and breath of his feels tortured with the knowledge that you may not be safe.
Shoko won’t stop texting you, almost on the hour, despite your radio silence. It’s strange when you think about it—she has always hated texting, always grumbling that it’s going to give her carpal tunnel someday. And yet here she is, blowing up your phone with notifications.
You haven’t been to school in weeks, taking mission after mission instead. It’s very obvious that you’ve been avoiding Shoko and Gojo, but you won’t admit that.
The missions have been grueling and gruesome—your stomach turns when the curses you exorcised spring to mind. They were ghastly and frankly were some of the most mentally scarring curses you’ve encountered. So, you’ve decided to take a break.
You feel your skin crawl when you’re sitting at home doing nothing—the curses come to mind much more easily, and also thoughts of him—so you abandon being cozy for the sake of your mind. It’s cold outside, so cold that your breath greets you in a cloud with every puff of air you release. Winter has arrived, and it nips at your cheeks and numbs your extremities just to remind you.
You haven’t been coping well, and you know it. Avoiding thoughts of Gojo has not been working very well, even after physically avoiding him. You try to forget what you heard that day, but it won’t escape your mind no matter how much you distract yourself. You think of Utahime: her beauty, her quiet strength, of how she always seems so calm and collected and yet somehow always makes her voice heard. She has everything that you lack.
The skin of your face burns with envy when you think about her. And when you picture her with Gojo—her dark eyes looking into his pooling blue depths, her leaning forward and up to kiss him—your chest crumbles in on itself.
It hurts. Right now, everything surrounding Gojo Satoru hurts.
But today, you will change that. This will definitely help. You’ve taken yourself out of your apartment and straight into a place that has always lifted your spirits—the local florist.
You scour the aisles, wincing at the very romantic red roses and the bright yellow daffodils. But then something catches your eye: an array of festive bouquets.
You end up picking out a bouquet fit for the season: it features a string of cranberries, enveloped by branches of pine and pinecones, with a striped garland draped around it all. Despite all of your poisonous feelings inside, you crack a small smile at the sight.
You take it home, putting care into the beautiful and yet flowerless bouquet. You carefully mix the plant food into a vase full of cool water, cut the ends of the stems under running water, then submerge the bouquet.
It brings a sense of homeliness that you’ve been desperately missing ever since you’ve starting living on your own. It almost soothes the ache in your chest.
But, as always, reality swoops in to remind you that you cannot run from your feelings within. Within only minutes of arranging the new bouquet, you accidentally swipe at the vase. It crashes to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere, glinting beautifully as it spins through the air. The cranberries begin to bleed into the water, the impact too much for them to tolerate.
You bend down, slowly processing the collision. When you stare into the expanding pool of water, you see wild eyes brimming with pain. Brimming with heartache. It is then that you are painfully reminded what cranberries represent: a cure for heartache.
The irony is not lost on you. You begin to howl in laughter, and the voice that reverberates back to you sounds crazed.
Then, it begins. You abruptly stop breathing; you are choked, silenced, almost as if something is blocking your airway. And then your throat begins to convulse, an instinctual reaction to choking, and you have no choice but to obey your body. You stumble through the shards of glass and collapse at the foot of your toilet. You heave and heave—whatever is lodged in your throat is large, making it difficult and painful to retch up.
When you finally use enough force to hack up the offending object, you freeze at the sight in front of you. Vibrant hydrangeas the same color as his eyes float in a murky red cloud. Blue hydrangeas: a symbol of rejection and regret.
Your chest bursts in pain at the realization. You are in love with Gojo Satoru, and he doesn’t love you back.
You feel another bloom emerging from within. You shudder in fear, knowing that you have little time left. Once the flowers present themselves, death is almost always imminent.
You spend the next few hours by the toilet, conjuring a newer, more painful bouquet than the one that lays in shattered remains in your living room.
“You told them what?” Gojo exhales deeply, a sigh following his exasperated words. He pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture uncharacteristic for someone as self-assured as him.
“That (Y/N) is important to you,” Yaga Masamichi states calmly. “Satoru, there is no reason to fret. Their intentions concerning this matter are pure.”
“Do you even hear yourself right now? The higher-ups intentions are anything but pure.”
“I can sense that you are agitated,” He observes, eyebrows beginning to furrow. “But you are blinded by your bias. They first and foremost protect our community. (Y/N) is of no threat to Jujutsu society, thus they should be in no danger.”
“You don’t understand,” Gojo shakes his head. He is clearly angry, but now his nerves are showing through more: his voice is uneven and his tone has an air of desperation. “The higher-ups are out to get them. I don’t have any answers for that, even though I’ve been searching for months. I’ve had to show indifference towards (Y/N) to convince them that there is nothing between us, and it was starting to work. Why did you tell them this without consulting me first?”
A frown etches Masamichi’s stony features. Behind his shaded glasses, his eyes rake over his former student, taking in his state. Gojo isn’t one to openly show fear or anxiety, yet his breathing is audibly shaky and his fingers twitch by his side.
“I see I have made a mistake,” Masamichi concedes. “But why are you so convinced the higher-ups have ill intentions toward them?”
Gojo begins to pace back and forth in front of Yaga’s desk—also very unlike him.
“They called me to meet them a few months ago, asking what my relationship with (Y/N) is. I brushed it off at first and basically told them to stop sticking their nose into my business, but then I started to notice something.”
Gojo pauses by a window. The light streams down onto his face, illuminating his rather uncommonly stoic portrait.
“They started assigning (Y/N) missions that were labeled as second or first grade, but actually turned out to be special grade. And it can’t be coincidental—the incident rate of this happening is much higher for (Y/N)’s assignments than any other person.”
“That does seem to be true,” Masamichi comments, thinking back to reports he’s reviewed.
“No, not seem,” Gojo snaps. “That is the reality of this situation. Ever since I realized that, I’ve acted coldly towards (Y/N), distancing myself as much as possible. And guess what? No more special grade missions. Less injuries. And—”
“Satoru!” Masamichi raises his voice, pulling Gojo out of his frantic spiel. He blinks in surprise; he didn’t even realize how much or how fast he has been speaking.
“I don’t know what they are thinking or planning, but stressing like this will not help the situation. This is our world; this is how they operate,” Masamichi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. “We will find a way around this.”
“It shouldn’t be like this,” Gojo says, voice rumbling deep and low, dangerously quiet.
“They are resistant to change,” Masamichi counters. “We can’t directly influence their decisions.”
“Not if they can’t make them anymore,” Satoru snorts, a dark and bitter smirk curling his lips.
“That is completely out of the question,” Yaga says firmly in a warning tone.
“Their thinking is antiquated,” Gojo argues. “I think we need a complete refresh.”
“And yours is too radical and rash. No, Gojo. I will not even entertain your idea.” Yaga says with a note of finality.
“Won’t you let me have my fun?” Gojo sighs, exaggerating his disappointment. “You’re such a drag, old man.”
Yaga almost smiles. He’s back to his normal antics.
“So, there is nothing that you can think of that would cause the higher-ups to go after them like this? I know you looked into all of your students closely even before you became principal. You must know something.”
Yaga frowns. You were his student and, as Gojo claims, he did thoroughly look into your background. But—how can you truly be thorough when the information presented is so little?
“There was little to nothing on them,” Yaga says. “Even when I tried digging further, I didn’t find much. However…there are rumors that they have made a Binding Vow.”
“A Binding Vow?” Gojo echoes back. “That’s very vague. That can mean practically anything.”
“But it’s still interesting, is it not?” Yaga says with a wry smile. “If the higher-ups have heard, we can only assume that the Binding Vow is with another entity, not with themselves. Otherwise, why would they be interested? That is assuming this is true, of course.”
“Who did you hear this from?” Gojo asks. “Someone credible?”
“I’m not sure about their credibility. And you can’t really go out and interrogate them, even if you wanted to. If you did, there would be another expectation for your visit.”
Gojo grows suspicious from his obvious attempt at a non-answer, “Yaga, who?”
He sighs, “Geto Suguru.”
There’s silence. Then, Gojo cackles—it’s a bitter and sardonic laugh, slightly crazed as well—and shakes his head.
“Of course. Of course it was from him,” Gojo continues laughing, a hand covering his face this time. “Guess you’re right—there’s no avenue for conversation there. In that case, I’ve gotta go. See ya, old man.”
Yaga bristles at the nickname, but does not attempt chastise Gojo as he walks away without waiting for Yaga’s response. It simply doesn’t work, so why waste his breath?
Gojo walks out, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He opens his text conversation with you, fingers twitching over the keyboard. But what would he even say? The last texts are all from you, scattered over a few weeks from literal months ago. He didn’t respond to any of them. He feels the need to contact you, but how would he even start that? ‘Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for months, but I heard that you might have told Geto that you made a Binding Vow and I think the higher-ups know about it.’
Nope. That’s not gonna work. He swipes the texting app out of existence, then locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.
He leans back on the pillar, resting his head while he closes his eyes. Why does everything surrounding you have to be so complicated? Then, a series of hurried footsteps meets his ears, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. Gojo is ambushed by someone he hasn’t seen for a few days—your mutual friend, Shoko.
“I heard what happened from Utahime,” She says immediately.
Gojo exhales loudly, not even trying to conceal his annoyance, “Shoko, I really don’t have time for this right now.”
“No. Tell me what’s going on.” She says firmly, her tone hard.
“What? We broke up. What’s more to say?” Gojo says dismissively.
“No, Gojo. That’s not all there is. Things have been going on. She told me that she’s concerned for (Y/N) but wouldn’t tell me more. And it just so happens that I have been texting them just about every day for weeks and have heard nothing back. Tell me there’s ‘nothing more to say’ again! Because obviously something is going on.”
Gojo inhales sharply, his breath suspended at her words. He shifts his weight forward, finally leaning away from the pillar. Shoko takes notice of his surprise.
She sighs, deciding to clarify one detail, “They’ve still been taking missions so I assume that they’re fine…but they’ve never ghosted me like this. Even back then, when Geto…they didn’t…agh. Well, you know what I’m saying. I don’t know what they’re thinking.”
He only really gathered one thing from that. So you’re safe for now. Gojo recovers, his expression evening out into something more normal.
“Shoko, I don’t want to complicate things further,” Gojo sighs. “Too many people are already involved in this, ones I had no intention of involving. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”
“You ass!” She shouts at him, making his eyes widen under his blindfold. Shoko never blows up like this—she’s always indifferent and sort of passive. “They’re my friend too, and I want to know what’s going on!”
“I don’t know what’s going on!” Gojo blurts out. Shoko blinks rapidly, shocked by the volume of his voice. He hates getting emotional like this, but he can’t help it when he’s so fucking worried. “I don’t know, Shoko. The higher-ups have been probing into my life, but this time– this time it’s about them, and I don’t know why they want to know. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I’m just praying every day that they stop, but then somebody else in our circle tells me that the higher-ups keep mentioning them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”
She looks at him, finally noticing how…un-Gojo-like he looks and sounds. Worrying about others isn’t something that Gojo does, or at least not something he ever speaks about. He never has his brow creased like he does right now. He doesn’t bite his lip in worry, either, so why is he biting down so hard he’s almost pulling blood?
“Okay,” Shoko yields. “Okay. I believe you. I didn’t realize…I didn’t believe that you still cared so much.”
“You don’t even know,” He mutters under his breath, but Shoko still hears it. She acts like she doesn’t.
“Well, if you hear anything, tell me, okay?” Shoko asks him with a low exhale. “They’re really stressing me out.”
She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette, prepared to light up. The blinks, and the cigarette now lays on the ground, mysteriously absent from her grip.
“Fuck you,” She grumbles. “You know, that’s littering.”
She hates to say it, but her chest, heavy with worry, lightens a bit as his regular smirk spreads across his face. She feels a bit more hopeful as Gojo disappears in front of her, the wind from the teleportation blowing her hair and lab coat around furiously.
“If only you two weren’t idiots, this mess might have solved itself ages ago,” She chuckles to herself. “The densest people I know.”
Your lungs ache. You wheeze with each breath. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep while you’ve been laying on the cold tile in your bathroom. The air is tinged with iron—the smell of your own blood curdles your stomach.
“What time is it?” You mutter to yourself, and jolt at the sound of your own voice. It’s raspy and weak; you almost don’t recognize it as being your own.
Your hands skate across the smooth tile as you try to locate your phone. When you finally do, you grab it and bring it close to your face. Your eyes, barely cracked open, ache at the bright light of your screen.
The time reads as 3:31 AM. You’ve really been here for that long? Under the time, a plethora of texts from Shoko appear. You groan and slam your phone back down on the ground, ignoring the guilt that rises from how long you’ve been flat out ignoring your friend.
I’m being just like Gojo. Your lips curl down at the realization.
You feel a wave of weakness wash over you, and you are forced to lay back down on the ground. You are half conscious, vision swimming half through dream and half through reality. You can barely think, barely process your own actions.
You feel cold metal in your hands, smooth glass under your fingers. You are tapping randomly, the light blinding you so much that you can’t open your eyes to see what exactly you’re doing.
All you hear is your own horrible breath. And then you hear a voice.
“(Y/N)? You called me?”
You blink blankly in confusion. Did you? You can only assume that you did.
“‘Guess so,” You try to say, but you can barely get it out with how sore your throat is. “Who…who is it?”
“What do you mean? You called me, silly.” They say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 3 am. Are you drunk or something?”
Why can’t you recognize their voice? Their voice sounds underwater to you. Your head is spinning so much and your ears begin to ring. Your feel yourself slipping from reality.
You hear yourself saying words, but you don’t remember thinking them.
“No…gonna pass out. Or die. Can’t tell.”
“What? (Y/N), what’s going on? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you right now.”
You swear you know that voice. It’s deep and smooth, but filled with so much worry that you barely recognize it. He’s never sounded this scared before.
“Oh, you’re…you’re Satoru,” You wheeze out. “Why? Why you?”
You’re not making much sense, you don’t think. But you can’t, not with how far from reality you are right now.
You called him? It’s just too painful, too cruel a fate, that you accidentally called the man you’re in love with and who doesn’t love you back while you’re knocking on death’s door. You cough violently and choke on the bloody petals that rise to your throat. You wince in pain and struggle to breathe.
He is bordering on panic now, but he fights to keep it out of his voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N), just tell me where you are. You’re on a mission, r-right? I’ll come get you. Just hold on.”
Confusion floods your brain. A mission? Are you on a mission? Is that why the scent of blood is clogging your nose?
Your heart beat pounds in your head, faster and faster. It’s scary just how confused you are—how do you not know where you are?
“I don’t know,” You choke out. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “I don’t know where I am.”
“It’s okay, c-can you check your phone for me? It’ll tell you your location. Just open it and–” His breathing is fast. “And check in your maps. Please. Please (Y/N), I need you to do this for me. Then–then everything will be okay. Okay?”
“Okay,” You answer softly. “How do–”
You startle at the sound of a loud bang, your own gasp cutting off your words.
The door to your bathroom—that’s where you are—is knocked down, nearly missing your form where you lay on the tile.
Satoru is calling your name desperately, his voice louder with each repetition of your name. You can’t decipher any other words, but you know he’s shouting things, trying to get you to say something, to say anything so that he knows you’re okay.
A dark shape towers over you. You can’t make out who it is with your blurry vision and with how dark it is—but you are immediately intimidated by their large, broad frame.
“There you are,” They snarl. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
You scramble to get up, grabbing your phone while you unsteadily rise on your shaky legs. You are an inch away from passing out and you fight the feeling with every ounce of your strength.
“Not looking too good, are we?” He says, tutting mockingly. “That’s perfect. Remember what we agreed on, my dear (Y/N)?”
You stare at him blankly, no recognition in your eyes.
“Silly me! Of course you don’t remember. That was intentional, you know. A good move on my part,” He chuckles, and it’s a soft sound that juxtaposes his words. “While you’re the one who has to suffer. Don’t blame me too much, though…this is all situational. It’s not like I ever disliked you or anything. It just has to be like this.”
You hear Satoru’s voice again, and this time it sounds dangerous, “Who the fuck is that?”
Anger runs through the man’s features, and he strikes the hand that carries your phone harshly. You yelp loudly both in surprise and in pain. Your phone clatters to the ground, instantly silenced. Probably broken beyond repair.
His words are chastising and almost playful, but he is furious. “You shouldn’t talk to him anymore, (Y/N). That’s not part of our agreement.”
Then he grabs hold of you and begins dragging you out of the room. You scream loudly, kicking and punching him as much as you can as you’re moved against your will. You are a strong sorcerer, but all of your cursed energy and strength has been sapped away by this horrible disease that afflicts you. You are powerless to stop this man.
There’s one thing you were mistaken about. With the crunch your phone made as it shattered against the ground, you assumed it was completely broken. That’s only partly true: the speakers were damaged, no sound coming out, but your phone actually survived. Your microphone continued to pick up every scream and cry you made as you were dragged against your will—kidnapped. He heard every whimper of pain and every plea of yours for the man to stop! and to let you go!
Even in this state, your heart would ache if you had heard the unadulterated fear that gripped his voice as he shouted and screamed for you through his phone.
Even if you didn’t recognize the man who manhandled you out of your apartment, Gojo Satoru has no doubts about who it was. It makes his blood boil thinking about it—he’s never going to forgive him for this, even if they used to be best friends.
a/n 2: Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!! This got a bit out of my hands, I will admit…I ended up writing some details I hadn’t planned on (and a lot more lol) 😅 But I think it actually makes it more interesting!
TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @unoriginalidea
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@soapysofi @qualitygiantshoepsychic
Some of these tags didn’t work, but I hope it still tags you…Lmk if I typed anything in wrong haha. 😌
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo behavior#jjk fanfic#gn!reader#Gojo is kinda smart but also an idiot at the same time#gojo hurt/comfort#hurt/comfort#angst
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Omg hey I woul like to request something ! Ken x Reader (male, if possible) where the reader teaches Ken about the real world and they're also very in love. Thank you very much !
When Ken returned to the Real World again, he had a vision similar to Barbie's--realizing his owner was nearby.
Instead of a child....it's you, an adult who (like Gloria) inadvertently projected your own insecurities onto him while looking at an unboxed Beach Ken doll in your attic.
When you were younger, you really wanted to play with it unlike other boys who had action figures and nerf guns...but you were sorta shamed into keeping it boxed, as your parents said it would be more "valuable" one day.
Similarly..Ken had been stuck in a box all his life, trapped in the role of Barbie's accessory until recently.
So there's an instant connection when you two meet.
To make a long story short, you're like "ohhh hey I guess I kinda fucked up your mental stability, bro...you wanna come over and we can talk about it, man-to-man?"
He was very eager to go with you and learn more about your world beyond all the patriarchy and toxic masculinity.
You tell him about using your "male privilege" for good, and one defining example was when a random woman taps him on the shoulder, looking terrified and almost in tears.
"H-Hi, um..this is gonna sound really awkward but can you two pretend to be my friends for a second? This guy has been following me-"
"Of course." You reassure her, before looking to the confused Ken and telling him to go along with it.
The creepy guy comes along and backs off when he sees you two standing there protecting this lady, and once he's gone, she thanks you with hugs before leaving.
"I think I did a good job." Ken turns to you for validation, eyes shimmering. "Was that good, [y/n]? I mean playing pretend is all I've ever done so-"
"Yep. You did great." You chuckle, patting his shoulder. "I'm glad she thought you were a safe person to approach."
He nods and is giddy the whole way back home, especially when you get into your car and show him the different mechanisms, with him clinging to every detail.
These life lessons you're teaching him, however, made him think back to the "Kendom"...and he admits to trying to reinvent patriarchy there and feels ashamed of how he treated the Barbies.
He didn't think he'd open up this quickly to you, considering he never had any "manly" talks with other Kens (besides beach-offs).
But besides you being his owner, there's something about you that just made him feel...secure enough to do so. Like he could tell you anything.
You listen and reassure him that acknowledging his mistakes was a great first step to unlearning those toxic mindsets.
With all of that finally hashed out, you decide to show him the simple pleasures of the real world. Like cooking, watching TV, playing video games, etc.
Just mundane things you regularly do, with Ken picking up on some of your habits/routines as well as having some independence of his own.
You two grow closer as a result over the next few weeks, and you began falling for him and his humor and his charming smiles-
Yeah, you're 100% smitten for this doll who crossed worlds to meet you.
But you're not sure if he felt (or even could feel) the same way, since he was made to love Barbie and was...clearly still getting over his "breakup" with her. So you left it be.
That changes when you show him some emotional movie where the lead male characters showed vulnerability (ie Good Will Hunting or Brokeback Mountain) and he unconsciously holds your hand as he stares at the screen, tears staining his cheeks.
While the credits roll, your heart melts as he looks at you with those pretty blue eyes, his watery smile persistent.
"Th-Thanks for showing me this, [y/n].."
"Of course, Ken. Now you know that us guys don't always have to pretend to be tough. We're allowed to have feelings." You rub your thumb across his knuckles, a sweet gesture which makes him blush.
On the subject of feelings, he realizes that the ones he has for you are...leaning more into romance than "bromance" (yeah you taught him that term and it's part of his vocabulary now).
He becomes uncharacteristically quiet when you ask him what's on his mind, before he leans in to kiss you on the cheek. Purely on impulse.
You're both flustered at what happened, yet he panics internally when you don't say anything, trying to get up to leave so you didn't see him cry over the stupid decision he made-
"Ken, it's okay." You take his hands, convincing him to sit back down. "I had no idea you swung that way, but I'm...actually glad."
"Glad? Y-You're not...mad or anything?" He sniffles.
"Of course not. I....was planning to come out of the closet sooner or later. I just didn't know when or how to bring it up, but....I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore, thank god."
"So...does this makes us boyfriend and g....boyfriend?"
"If you want it to be, sure. I wouldn't mind a handsome doll being the love of my life." You wink.
Ken mirrors your smile, relieved to know you reciprocated his feelings.
Then he gets stumped on something and his eyebrows furrow.
"Wait...what closet were you talking about?"
Oh boy.
You just chuckle and give him a kiss on the lips.
Falling in love with a Ken doll from Barbieland certainly wasn't on your bucket list....
But you're perfectly content with that.
#oop kinda went to town on this one-#clanask#barbie x reader#barbie spoilers#ken x reader#ken carson x reader#male reader#fluff#hurt/comfort#headcanons
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Summary: when Eddie needs a place to live and so Steve let’s him crash at his apartment. But Eddie comes to find out that Steve has a girlfriend, no one had known about. And Eddie is just about to get a glimpse of how much he wishes he was Steve… or you he doesn’t really- (6.7k)
WARNINGS: Clinginess, size kink(not really), very shy y/n(at first), social anxiety mentions, fighting, angst (kinda?), hurt/comfort, fingering, squirting, vanilla!Steve, Vanilla!Reader (until Eddie changes her mind), dacryphilia, pet names(?) (sweet girl, sweetheart, baby, etc), Eddie says ‘little’ to reader a lot but it doesn’t mean anything it’s just something i think fits his character, this might be bad so sorry in advance. I ended up really not liking this… :( (the pictures shown are not meant to be what the reader (or Eddie and Steve) looks like, just the vibe of the story!!)
PAIRING: Steve Harrington x SHY!FemReader x Eddie Munson
part two
Eddie was glad he was able to crash at Steve’s, rather than living in Wayne’s trailer. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his dear uncle but sometimes Eddie wanted his own space. Even if he doesn’t necessarily have his own space with Steve, at least it’s someone his age.
But what he was not expecting was when your little figure walked right out of Steve’s room, in only a t-shirt. You yawned rubbing your eyes before you took notice of Eddie’s presence, which was him sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal.
You stopped in your tracks, staring at him with wide eyes, before you ran off back to Steve’s room. Eddie stared at the closed door for a minute, before he got up to get the phone.
‘Hello, this is-“
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the girl.’ Eddie demanded, cutting Steve off.
‘Oh. um y/n you mean?’ he asked, Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.
‘Well fucking hell Steve, i didn’t even get to know her name she walked out here, mind you in only a t-shirt and once she noticed me she scurried on back to your room.’ Eddie said, Steve almost laughed but kept his composure.
‘She’s just a shy girl, i told her that i was having someone live in the apartment for a while. As for you i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, no one else really knows about her’ Steve says, Eddie furrows his brows.
‘Is she your girlfriend?’ Eddie asks confusion deep in his voice. Steve sighs, leaning against the counter.
‘yeah, but she’s shy so- she didn’t really want anyone to know’ Steve explains, Eddie hums.
‘Well she looked terrified of me.’
‘Everyone is terrified of you Ed’s look in the mirror man’ Steve laughed, Eddie grumbled saying his goodbyes before hanging up.
Eddie took his seat back on the stool, finishing his now soggy cereal.
-
You hadn’t come out at all that day, that is until you heard the jingles of Steve’s keys and then the front door opening. You sit up, getting out of the bed. You open the door peeking out of it, seeing Steve close the door behind him and putting his keys on the kitchen counter.
He spots you and you smile sweetly, he walks over to you walking into the room. Eddie had been watching the whole thing from the couch.
-
‘Have you even eaten today sweet girl?’ he asked, a little frustrated that you let your social anxiety take over.
‘Um… no. I got scared!’ you whine, he lets out a sigh shaking his head.
‘Eddie is no one you should be scared of’ he explains getting out of his work clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
‘You sure’ you whisper, he nods walking over to you and giving you a kiss to the forehead.
‘Come on, you gotta at least be civil to him and say hi.’ Steve says giving you a pair of his boxers, you pout but put them on anyways.
You walk behind Steve as he opens the door, staying behind him. You can sense the presence of another human, and you don’t like it.
‘Say hi’ Steve says, to which you then make yourself visible to the other one whispering a small hi as you look down at your feet.
‘Hi there, would have introduced myself this morning if you hadn’t run off.’ Eddie jokes making you relax a little at his soft laugh.
‘Sorry, i’m y/n’ you whisper, taking a chance at looking at the other man.
‘No worries, i’m Eddie’ he said smiling, his heart absolutely melted at your soft aura.
‘Nice to meet you’ you say avoiding eye contact. Eddie grins looking over at Steve mouthing ‘real shy huh?’ Steve just grins back nodding.
‘Nice to meet you too’ Eddie laughs slightly, you burn up taking note that there is another person staring at you other than Steve.
You make thin line with your lips humming a small ‘mhm’, walking back into Steve’s room. Eddie watched as you shut the door, and he just laughed.
‘Well god dammit Steven, you didn’t tell me she was that shy.’ Eddie said in amusement, Steve rolled his eyes at the name.
‘i told you, she’s just very antisocial she’ll warm up to you’ Steve explained walking to the kitchen to make you something to eat.
-
The next morning wasn’t so bad, you had not been scared to walk out of Steve’s room to make something to eat. But you still avoided eye contact with Eddie.
He talked to you and you would talk back, and you surprisingly found the company comforting. Steve had work what felt like all the time, so you’d be at his apartment alone. Having someone to talk to gave you a sort of comfort.
‘When did you two start dating?’ Eddie asked as you placed your food on a plate.
‘um… about 5months ago’ you whispered, Eddie hums.
‘Yeah, no one knows. I don’t like people that much’ you mumble, Eddie chuckles making you almost loose your breath. It’s a sound that Steve makes sometimes, and it makes your stomach flutter.
Eddie had tried to engage in you, per Steve’s request.
‘just try and talk to her please, she just needs an extra push’
‘you’d make good friends with El, she’s a quiet little thing like you’ Eddie says and for some reason you blushed.
‘Yeah that’s what Stevie tells me’ You hadn’t even realized you let the name you call him slip, if Eddie had noticed he had no point in showing it.
You place your plate down next to Eddie and happily eat.
-
As the days went on you began to be more comfortable around Eddie.
Eddie had explained he was leaving to go visit his uncle, and Steve took that chance. He knew you were dying on the inside, because he had told you that you had to hold off on the sex for a while. You guys already didn’t have much sex, so you were going on about 3 weeks without sex.
So when he got you on the couch, kissing down your pretty neck you relished in it.
You were sex deprived?
So when Steve was taking things slow you practically cried. Pouting at him, saying how you’ve been good and waited.
‘Yes, and i’m so proud of you baby’ he replied.
Steve was the soft type, surprisingly.
-
You were so close, pleading him. So far down into your own mind that you hadn’t heard the front door. Quite frankly neither did Steve, and when Eddie walked in he got a glimpse of just what he wanted.
‘Steve!’ it was a cry out from you that had Eddie freezing in his spot. He stared for a good minute, watching the way Steve’s face contorted with pleasure.
He grew hard in his pants, before either of you could see him he walked back out. Rushing to his van.
He slammed the door, sitting in his seat. Running his hands through his hair. It was running through his mind.
You laying there, all needy and submissive to Steve as he helped you- god.
‘FUCK!’ Eddie hit his wheel, he’s fucked. He leaned down to the wheel thinking for a moment.
He started his van driving off.
-
‘And i just stood there Robin.’ Eddie said, Robin sighed as she listened to him.
‘Who were you attracted to?’ she asked suddenly, Eddie paused looking at her.
‘I- her obviously i mean-‘ he stopped himself when Robin gave him a look.
‘Why are you looking at me like that.’ he stated, she sat down next to him.
‘because i don’t believe you.’ she said, Eddie raised an eyebrow.
‘Wha-‘
‘You walked in on Steve having sex with some one, and you watched. What if it was Jonathan? Do you think he would stand there and watch Steve fuck someone?’ She asked, Eddie froze.
‘Who were you attracted to Eddie.’ she asked again, Eddie swallowed thickly leaning back into the couch.
‘Both of them.’ he said.
-
Later that night you were nearly asleep when you heard the sound of keys, and the door opening. You felt Steve pull out of the bed and opening the bedroom door. Then there was faint talking, your bedroom door making it muffled.
‘Where were you?’ Steve asked, Eddie just gave a raised eyebrow.
‘my uncles. i told you-‘
‘yeah you told me you’d be back by 10’ Steve cut him off, Eddie gave a confused look.
‘I’m sorry? i didn’t know i was on a curfew’ Steve rolled his eyes.
‘I’m just saying you could have called to say you were staying later or something.’ Steve said, Eddie has been through too much and now Steve is showing that stupid motherly friend side of him and it’s not helping.
‘Ok sorry’ he mumbled walking to the kitchen to get water, he went over it with Robin. How to tell Steve, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
‘You scared y/n you know’ Steve mumbled, Eddie froze at this. He shut the door, water bottle in hand.
‘Well- i- sorry i didn’t mean to’ he said walking off to the couch.
You were sitting at the door listening to them.
‘Why are you acting like that?’ Steve says, Eddie stops and looks back at him.
‘like what?’ Eddie asks, Steve just stares at him a moment longer.
‘i don’t know- weird’ Steve asks, Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that makes your stomach drop.
‘i thought i was already weird’ Eddie says, Steve just rolls his eyes.
‘Okay whatever, i’m not gonna try talking to you if you’re acting like that’ Steve says, Eddie ignores him.
You hear Steve’s footsteps and you jump up from the floor backing away. He walks in and notices you frantic look.
‘Were you listening?’ he asks, you nod shyly.
‘Sorry, i don’t know what’s up with him’ Steve mumbles, he just kinda stands there.
‘Maybe he just- needs to sleep, we all need sleep sometimes’ you mumble, Steve gives you a small smile kissing you on the forehead.
‘yeah’ he whispered.
-
It got harder and harder for Eddie to keep his composure around you. To you he was more sweet but to Steve… he just plain out ignored him.
It irritated Steve enormously. He hadn’t figured out why Eddie had been so different around him, it’s almost like he was scared of Steve.
One day you had been asleep in Steve’s room when Eddie walked in. Steve writing something down about rent. When he saw Eddie he got up, moving towards him.
‘Ok ed’s, what is your deal?’ Steve asked in a hushed tone, trying not to wake you up.
‘What do you mean?’ Eddie asked confused.
‘You know what i fucking mean. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague!’ Steve says.
It tipped Steve off, Eddie was his- friend. Eddie was his friend who wasn’t paying attention to him.
‘I- i’ve just been busy’ Eddie says, Steve doesn’t buy it, not one fucking bit.
‘Yeah fucking right! Y/n said you’ve been perfectly normal to her?!’ Eddie freezes at that.
‘Listen it’s just- complicated…’ Eddie tried to reason but Steve is not pleased.
‘GEEZ EDS LET ME HELP YOU OR SOMETHING?! YOU’RE AVOIDING ME AND ITS DRIVING ME UP THE WALL!’ Steve hadn’t meant to shout, but it was hard not to when he felt like what he did.
‘Where’s y/n?’ Eddie asked looking around, Steve just stared at him.
‘She’s sleeping.’ he said blankly.
‘Do you like my girlfriend?’ he accused, Eddie looked stunned.
Steve had thought about it a few times, scared it was true.
‘What? where- where is this coming from.’ Eddie protested.
‘DO YOU LIKE MY GIRLFRIEND?’ Steve shouted again, Eddie was pulled back.
‘I- Steve listen…’
Steve hated this feeling. He was infuriated. But it wasn’t because Eddie liked his girlfriend, it was because Eddie he didn’t like him. His eyes burned and he hadn’t realized tears had grown.
Steve’s head went into a spiral, had he liked Eddie? No. He liked his girlfriend, god he loved her.
‘I walked in on you guys the other day when i said i was going to Wayne’s- i came back a little early i didn’t think- i hadn’t thought and i walked in on you two on the couch-‘ Eddie slowly explained, Steve just stood there in shock.
‘I just… um my mind went a little crazy and i just froze. I ran off to Robins and i told her about it, she kept on asking me who i was attracted to- and i- i just couldn’t set my mind um,’ Eddie didn’t know how to say it.
‘You like both of us.’ Steve said, breathing uneven. Eddie’s head snapped up in alarm.
They both stayed silent, scared to be the first one to talk. Eddie swallowed thickly, Trying to gather his thoughts.
‘Yeah’ he mumbled, his hands went wet.
There was nothing else to say, they both felt frozen.
Eddie knew deep down that he never really cared who he ended up with. But Steve had grown up with entitled parents who thought they were better than everyone else.
He remembers a night where his mother complained about her cousin, who had ran off and dated a boy.
‘He’s disgusting’
He remembered the dis-taste in her voice, the venom. When he met Robin he immediately felt a pang in his heart, Robin was just being herself, she wasn’t disgusting.
Steve always tried his best to please his mom, his father never really gave him the time of day. So if he were able to please his mom then he felt like he had it all. The feeling of pleasing his mom was like winning the Nobel Prize.
But he realized that not everyone wins the Nobel Prize. And not everyone can achieve that, and that’s okay. Because in the end of the day we are all just humans trying to live, so why does it matter that he likes Eddie?
Why does his mom think he’s anything less than herself, why does she think Robin doesn’t deserve to be loved. That’s how he knew that he never really needed to please his mom, he shouldn’t have even tried. Because she was the one that was less than a human, she was the one going against someone who was just trying to love.
‘Idotoo’ Steve hadn’t realized it slipped until Eddie looked up at him in shock.
His feet looked quite interesting in the moment, but they had been blurred by the stupid water in his eyes.
‘What?’ Eddie asked, unsure he heard correctly.
‘I do too, um… you and y/n’ he mumbled looking back up at Eddie, tear streaked cheeks. Eddie just stared in shock, why was he crying?
‘Is that- is that even allowed’ Steve says letting out a nervous huff.
‘Robin said it was’ Eddie shrugged, and Steve actually felt like he could smile. He felt okay, he supposed in the moment.
‘Yeah Robin thinks it’s okay to put ketchup on eggs.’ Steve states softly, rubbing his nose and sniffing.
‘Yeah so we should trust her eh?’ Eddie says, Steve rolls his eyes.
‘You too?’ he asks in disbelief, Eddie shrugs.
‘Sorry man’
Steve hadn’t realized Eddie got any closer until he felt arms wrap around him. He stood frozen for a little until he finally let himself be himself, wrapping his arms around Eddie letting out small sobs.
He just felt okay, like he could destroy the world and bring all back together. He felt like he could actually breath.
He laid out everything to Eddie, about his mother, his father and how for so long he felt like a disappointment. But now he really didn’t care, because people like his parents can never truly be pleased.
And they thought that now they feel content in their feelings, why not make it fun?
Mess with you
-
It was the next morning Steve was already off to work, you began to walk out to the kitchen when you stopped in your tracks, Eddie was on the couch. With only boxers on.
You just stared, why? why was he so confidently spread out in the open in ONLY his boxers?!?
You just ignored it walking into the kitchen beginning to make your breakfast.
-
Eddie had been more touchy, not to the point where it made you uncomfortable but just to the point where is made you blush and want to cower.
But something that really made you blush was when he called you sweet girl, it was something you’ve only ever been called by Steve.
But it felt wrong, blushing around him. It felt so wrong, but you couldn’t help it.
-
Steve came home, dropping his keys on the counter before coming to his room.
You looked up from reading your book, he waved the movie he had in hand grinning like the cat who’s got the milk.
You sit straight up, movie nights were your favorite. And since Steve worked at family video it happened quite often, he always got discounts on new movies they got in stock.
‘What movie is it!?’ you sprint from the bed, book long forgotten. He brings down the case to show you.
‘Raising Arizona?’ you question grabbing it and looking at it. Steve shrugged, getting out of his work clothes and into new ones.
He urges you out the door, you yelp turn towards him.
‘Idontgotanypantson’ you mumble, Steve looks down at you with a questioned look.
‘Sorry baby, what?’ he leaned down to hear you, he genuinely seemed like he didn’t hear you but you never knew with Steve.
‘i don’t have any pants on Steve.’ you state, trying to make it to where Eddie couldn’t hear. Steve just grins, perfect.
‘That’s alright,’ he says
‘wait what-‘
‘Hey Eddie!’ Steve calls out to Eddie who’s laying on the couch, to which Eddie looks up from the paper he was drawing on.
You go wide eyed squealing as you tried to turn around, only to be met with Steve solid figure. He turns you back around.
‘You don’t mind if sweet girl is only in her undies do ya?’ Steve asks, this makes you flush from head to toe.
‘Nope not at all’ Eddie says laughing, why were they joking!?
‘Good because poor baby girl here is just so comfortable in only her undies’ Steve said, you close you’re eyes in embarrassment.
this is not happening right now.
this is not happening right now.
this is not happening right now.
this is not happening right now.
You reluctantly let Steve lead you to the couch, when you made it to the couch your blush had appeared much more to Eddie.
‘I don’t think she liked you ratting her out Steven’ Eddie said grinning, and the name surprised you because it seemed so foreign.
‘She’ll get over it, right’ Steve says leaning down to look at you, you glare at him but just nod.
Steve urges you to sit, a little close to Eddie but it’s okay, you’re okay. He puts in the VHS, and presses play.
When he sits back on the couch, he pulls you closer to him until you’re on his lap. You felt watched, you didn’t like it.
But once the movie went on, you all sat comfortably. Three blankets spread across. Maybe an hour or so into the movie, you were already passed out.
‘She never makes it through movies’ Steve says grinning as he picked you up. You shift slightly in his hold before relaxing.
He brought you to the room, making sure you were comfortable and tucked in before he felt.
‘Do you think she’ll ever end up liking both of us?’ Eddie asked as soon as Steve closed the door.
‘She already does, she just thinks she’s cheating on me if she does anything with you’ Steve says, Eddie gets up from the couch walking to the kitchen.
‘So how are we supposed to make her think it’s not’ Eddie says, Steve walks over to the island sitting down.
‘I could talk to her, maybe if i say she’s aloud to i’m not sure’ Steve says.
-
‘PRINCESS!’ you were in the kitchen when Steve called you to his room, you turn around from your food and walk to the room.
‘Yeah’ you ask, he waved you over and you raise your eyebrow. You shut the door behind you walking over to him.
‘I gotta talk to you’ he says softly, you were becoming scared. He grabbed your waist pulling you down onto his lap.
‘Should i be scared’ you mumble, he grinned and just shook his head.
‘no of course not, unless you got something to tell me’ he laughs, you just shake you head no.
‘Ok so,’ he slaps his hand down on your thigh as he begins his talk.
‘I’ve noticed, that you get lonely when i’m at work. Locking yourself in my room, and don’t even lie i get told’ Steve says, you blush at that.
‘Well yeah i don’t really have anything to do while you’re gone’ you whisper looking down drawing circles on his jean covered thigh.
‘Which is why i’m making you a deal’ You look up at him in question.
‘a deal?’
‘Yes. I talked to Ed’s, and we both were talking about how devastating it must be, i mean i’m gone lots. So what i’m allowing you to do is when you miss me or need something you can go to Ed’s’ He explains slowly, you just stare at him in shock.
‘Wait… like anything?’ you ask, Steve nods.
‘Wouldn’t that be cheating?’ you mumble, Steve shakes his head no.
‘not if i’ve told you i’m okay with it, and i know it’s happening’ he says, you just sit there confused.
‘Why would you let me do things with Eddie? i’m doing quite fine being lonely’ you say, scared it was a test.
‘Sweet girl, i’m just saying you can you don’t have to’ he explains.
‘i know… i’m just confused’ you say softly, Steve just smiles.
‘Just know if you get… i don’t know needy? then you can go to Ed’s for help’ he said, you just stared at him.
‘really?’ Steve could hear the hint of excitement under what was a voice that you used to try and hide your real feelings.
‘Yeah, i feel bad that you don’t have someone to keep you busy’ he said, you just stare at him in thought.
‘I mean, i keep myself quite busy’ you say looking around realizing you had things left out from throughout the days.
‘I know you do. But like i said, you can you don’t have to’ he said, you just couldn’t wrap your head around it.
You knew he was giving you permission, you understand that. But what you didn’t understand was why he was giving it to you. Why would he want a different boy touching his girlfriend, having sex with his girlfriend. It didn’t make sense, but he said you could and you would.
Even though it felt so wrong, you just couldn’t help but like both the boys. Of course you leaned more to Steve, but if he started letting you do things with Eddie you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop.
-
Steve had left to work, and you felt scared to leave the room. You didn’t know if it would be the same between you and Eddie. Now that his friend told him it was okay to have sex with his girlfriend.
You finally exit the room to get some water, Eddie was at the island eating cereal.
‘Hey’ you whispered softly, Eddie looks up from his cereal bowl and smiles.
‘Hello’ he says, you grab out things to make your food.
The first two days were just awkward to say the least, but one night it broke.
‘Look sweet girl, i’m sorry i don’t want me to go either. But if i don’t my mother will make sure to make my life a living hell, i’ll only be gone two nights. You have ed’s’ He says, you sigh.
You knew you were clingy, especially with Steve. But it’s not your fault when he treated you so well and spoiled you. He gave into your clinginess.
-
Steve had moved outside of Hawkins after what had happened, he hated that town. It made his skin crawl. So when his mom asked him to come back and spend some time with family that was coming down it made his stomach drop.
He honestly just wished to cut off all cords with his mom, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was harder than what it sounded like.
-
You laid in his bed, not able to go to sleep. You were spoiled, you slept each night in Steve’s arms ever since you got together.
You shuffled a bit in the bed before letting out a small whine. You huffed sitting up, walking to the bathroom. When you came back out you grabbed the small blanket that was on top of the big one, wrapping it around you and walking out the door.
Eddie was laid on the couch, peacefully asleep. You knew neither of them cared but it still made you feel guilty sleeping with another guy. Steve had told you over the past few days, he consisted on it actually. So you tried to calm yourself down, but before you could your feet were already bringing you to the couch.
You just wanted a good nights sleep, that’s all. You stood next to the couch for a moment, taking a deep breath. Looking back at the bedroom door, you almost just left back to the room until you heard Eddie move.
You looked back and he was half awake rubbing his eyes, looking up at you with squinted eyes. You just kinda stand there till you get embarrassed and mumble out words.
‘What?’ he asks sitting up on the couch, you play with the ends of the blanket nervously.
‘I can’t go to sleep’ you say keeping your eyes on the blanket. Eddie just eyes you, still half awake. Before it all registers in his brain, remembering Steve was gone and you were all alone in the bed.
He clears his throat scooting back on the couch, lifting up the blanket that was laid on him. Your heart stutters and you quickly join him before your mind second guess’ it.
And you actually felt comfortable, even though you hated Steve’s couch. Eddie brought the blanket back down onto both of you, pulling you closer so you weren’t hanging off the edge.
And your eyes start to drift off, the smell of Eddie surrounding you in the best way.
But you froze when Eddie began to do something Steve always did to help you sleep. He began to slowly rub his thumb back and forth over your hip.
It was some what like a turning page in your head, showing that Eddie and Steve weren’t that different. They both made you feel safe, they both gave you butterflies. And most of all they both made you feel loved.
You never knew you could feel loved by two people at the same time. It felt freeing, and it felt so good.
‘Steve told me, your guys’ deal’ you whispered, Eddie froze a bit.
‘Yeah?’ Eddie asked voice rough, you slightly nod.
‘I’ve never felt this way before’ you mumble, Eddie pulls his eyebrows together.
‘What do you mean sweet girl’ Eddie asked cautiously.
‘Loved, Steve made me feel loved just by himself but now you both make me feel loved.’ You say, Eddie stays silent for a moment.
‘That’s because we do love you y/n.’ he whispered, and it sounded surreal. It didn’t sound right in your ears.
To be wanted by Steve was a huge thing, but to be wanted by two people was hard to grasp.
‘You love me?’ you ask, Eddie hums.
‘Steve knows?’ you ask, Eddie sighs nodding.
‘Do you love us?’ Eddie asks before telling you, you think for a moment.
‘Yeah… yeah i guess i do, but i didn’t know i was allowed to’ you say, Eddie turns you to him.
‘Here’s the thing sweetheart, me and Steve also love each other. So, we all love each other.’ He explains, and it just makes sense. It was right, you loved both of them and they both loved you and each other.
‘I like that’ you say smiling, Eddie gives back a soft smile.
‘Me too’ he whispered, you stare at him hunger shown in your eyes.
‘am i allowed to kiss you’ you ask, Eddie chuckles at you.
And he answers by leaning down and giving you a kiss, you melt into him. He begins to get on top of you, pulling back to let you catch your breath before going back.
It felt so right, his hands on your hips while his soft lips guided yours. When he began to kiss down to your jawline, then your neck. You grabbed handfuls of his hair, whining.
Eddie grinned, pushing your head back so he could get access to that one spot Steve had told him about.
‘If you just get that one spot, she won’t be able to make coherent words’
When he sucked on it you gasped, your hips bucking.
Steve and you didn’t have sex very often, and when you did it was soft.
So when Eddie begin to bite and roughly hold your hips down, you gave a pout.
‘Why you pouting, hm?’ he asks, you grunt trying to move your hips.
‘You are being very impatient right now, Steve didn’t teach you how to behave?’ Eddie asks, you paw at his chest with a frustrated whine.
‘What?’ you ask breathlessly, the feeling of his mouth still lingering on your neck.
‘You get everything you want from Steve? He fuck you when you ask, and he lets you tell him what to do?’ Eddie says, you nod with a confused face.
‘So what i’m hearing is you are a spoiled thing’ he says grinning, you shake your head.
‘i’m not spoiled’ you protest, Eddie just laughs at you.
‘no? then why don’t you be a good girl and be patient, yeah?’ he says, and your insides twist at the tone of his voice. You nod your head.
His hands slid under your shirt making you shiver. You moan when his hands come over your bare breasts.
Eddie noticed how reactive you were to everything he was doing. It led him to think you didn’t get this as much as you should have. You’re eyes were blown wide, just wanting to please him.
‘Stevie doesn’t fuck you enough does he?’ He cooed, you whine shaking your head.
‘You poor thing’ he says with sarcastic sympathy, you pout.
He helps you take off your shirt, throwing it to the side. His fingers hook into the waist band of your pajama shorts, he leaves them there for a second to give you time to change your mind. You just lift your hips up in answer, he chuckles at you pulling down your shorts.
‘fuck, your soaking your little panties’ Eddie grinned when you blushed. You turn your head in embarrassment, he turns your head to meet his eyes. You hated making eye contact it killed you inside.
‘Got you embarrassed hm?’ he says, you roll your eyes trying to hide the fact that you were very much indeed embarrassed.
‘Oh? so you’ve got attitude’ he says, turning your chin roughly. Your eyes were so blown wide it made you even more harder to resist.
You shake your head, he just narrows his eyes.
‘You’d think you would be grateful, i’m being so nice to you sweet girl. I can be mean.’ He says making your eyes go wide.
mean?
‘Steve doesn’t get rough with you? does he baby you?’ Eddie says, slowly discarding your underwear.
You didn’t answer too distracted by his fingers being everywhere but where you wanted them.
‘You know, i wouldn’t buy you for the vanilla type,’ Eddie says, finger pressing into your entrance making you moan.
When his finger is fully seated in you, you grab hands full of his hair.
‘You don’t love the idea of me fucking you so hard to the point where you can’t even say your own name, you don’t want me to be mean to you while i give you pleasure?’ he says, you shake your head no but your insides tell you yes when you clench around his finger.
When his finger begins a pace you mewl, pushing your hips down. He then adds a second finger making you gasp.
Sure you’ve gotten way bigger, but just the way he was being rough had your mind spiraling.
‘Oh but you do like it rough, don’t ya princess?’ he asks, you don’t answer trying to stand your ground. You hated it when you weren’t right, especially about your own self.
He just laughs at you, because he knew he was right. He felt your pussy clench down on his fingers, he knew you liked it.
Soon his two fingers were pounding into you, and it felt so foreign. Steve was the one to take your virginity, and ever since all you’ve known is soft sex. So for Eddie to show you such roughness made you question why Steve has never done it, because quite frankly it felt so good.
The continuous hits of his fingers into you were making you go crazy. Your hips bucked up as you whine throwing your hands down to claw your hands into the couch.
‘i- i eddieeee’ you whine loosing your breath when he hits a particular spot.
‘ohmygod’ you try to keep your composure but you couldn’t, he was relentless.
‘Ah! just what i was looking for’ he grins, leaning down to kiss on your neck.
‘This is mean!’ you protest, he just laughs hot air fanning your neck.
‘You can tell me to stop, do you want me to stop?’ he says, you groan shaking your head.
‘Than shut up and be a good girl for me yeah?’ he says, and when your body shivers it gives him all the answers he needs.
You hadn’t even realized the tear that rolled down your cheek till he kissed it away. But you weren’t sad… just overwhelmed. The pleasure drew you so far you felt like you were floating.
And when he landed his thumb on your clit, you exploded. Eyes rolling back as you saw stars, thighs shaking. And small sobs erupting from you as you bask in the feelings you just went through.
When your brain was finally brought back to life you looked down and your eyes go wide.
did you pee?!?
You look up at Eddie in fear, he just pulls you up carrying you. You wince when he sits you on the bathroom counter.
‘Sorry baby’ it was so distant but it made you fuzzy on the inside nonetheless.
You meet his eyes your dazed stare making him smile. You gasp when you felt a warm rag drag up your folds. You were picked back up, and taken into Steve’s room. When you got in Eddie placed you down on the bed, walking off.
‘Where are you going!’ him walking you off snaps you out of your daze.
‘I’m just going to get you some clothes sweet girl’ he says, you sigh laying back down.
When he comes back he helps you put on one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of panties. You sigh when you get under the cold sheets, you grab his hand pulling him down with you. He laughs a little getting under the sheets with you.
Instead of it being awkward, this time you snuggle into him liking the warmth and comfort he radiated. He smiles to himself bringing you close, his arm wrapped tightly around you.
When his hand trails up under your shirt and starts to rub your back, his short nails grazing against your skin you melt into him.
‘Good night’ you whisper, he mumbles it back kissing your cheek.
And somehow, you end up falling asleep just as good as you would if it was Steve.
-
You woke up to the jingles of keys and the opening of the front door, but you were too lost in sleep to care.
But when you felt the dip of the bed and someone slid into it, the soft smell of cologne and lavender your senses were alarmed. You smile when kisses were laid on your cheek. You softly laugh when he begins to attack you with kisses.
‘What are doing home early, i thought you were staying for two nights’ you say, he rolls his eyes.
‘Yeah but you know me, i could never stay that long with my family and how they are’ he said annoyance filled in his voice. It wasn’t until then did you notice there wasn’t another body in the bed.
You turn to see the bed empty, you turn back to Steve and he laughs at you.
‘He’s in the kitchen, he told me all about last night eh?’ he grinned pulling you to lay on his lap. You blush looking away.
‘And he also told me,’ Steve begin sitting up with his back to the headboard, pulling you up with him.
‘That sweet girl, likes it rough’ Steve said it like he was a little kid saying a bad word. You giggle, and you make a mental note to cringe at yourself later. But you can’t help it, the two boys made you feel so giddy.
‘You are a dirty dirty girl’ Steve says edging on your embarrassment. You can’t stand looking in his eyes, nuzzling your face into his neck. He laughs rubbing up and down your back.
‘How come you didn’t tell me?’ he says, you groan more sounding like a whine.
‘because i didn’t even know!’ you say, looking up from his neck.
The door opened and you make a grunt when Eddie piled on top of both you and Steve. He laughs at the both of you, kissing your cheek as a sorry and tapping Steve’s head since his lips couldn’t get to him.
‘My little vanilla babies, have no idea how to have fun’ Eddie says grinning.
‘It’s all Steve’s fault!’ you say laughing when he gasps.
‘How is it my fault?!’ Steve says in defense.
‘I was a virgin when i got with you! you’re the only person i’ve ever been with, so you made me vanilla’ you say, using the word Eddie used even though you had no fucking idea what it meant.
‘ohhh yup, i think princess has point Harrington’ Eddie says, his dimples out.
‘The only reason i went Vanilla on you was because i was scared i was gonna hurt you, and you seemed to like it so i kept doing it’ Steve protests, Eddie rolls his eyes.
‘Boooo, lame excuse. If you just do it right, you can never hurt her. She’s a very strong little lady’ Eddie says, you smile looking back at Steve who was over you two.
‘You two have only been together for one night and you’re already ganging up on me?! what is this! i declare justice’ Steve says, you just laugh laying back down on his chest.
‘It’s okay Stevie, Eddie will just have to teach you right ed’s?’ And for the first time the nickname Steve has always called him slips out your mouth. It makes Eddie so giddy he nearly explodes.
‘Yeah, i sure can.’ he said proudly.
‘How about we start right now yeah? wanna be our prop sweet girl’ Eddie says getting up, you go wide eyed. You’ve never gotten two orgasms within 2 days, let alone within the span of 7 hours.
‘Oh my Ed’s what have you done to my princess, she has a look of terror’ Steve says, Eddie shakes his head.
‘No no no, that is not a look of terror. That is a look of pure joy and excitement, Stevie’ Eddie says, Steve looks back at you and your smirking.
‘What have you done to my precious baby’ Steve says, Eddie shoves his shoulder back into the bed.
‘Our precious baby’ Eddie corrects, and it makes your stomach churn.
Oh boy were you excited.
—
Okay so i will make a part two, if you guys want. Because i know i stole away the smut from you but i feel like i’ve been holding off this story from you guys for way too long! I need to post it! So i hope you enjoyed, lots of love!
-Ky
#soft steve harrington#steve harrington x eddie munson x reader#steddie x you#smut is life#foryou#fluff#kyhgwts#dom/sub#…kinda#sad?#hurt/comfort#arguing#three idiots in love
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i am once again saying that there is nothing wrong with being a non-sharing selfshipper. there's nothing wrong with blocking people who share one (or multiple) of your f/os. there's nothing wrong with telling doubles not to interact with you. setting boundaries for yourself and your online space is a moral neutral and has nothing to do with being "insecure" or some other negative. if you find that insulting or belittling, that's on you; not on the person setting the boundary. quit trying to make non-sharers into bad guys.
#*with the obvious disclaimer of: so long as they aren't harassing anybody#but god man. i am so sick of coming online and seeing people act like setting boundaries or not being comfy sharing is a moral failing#just because they are and ''seeing people tell me to dni hurts my feelings :(''#like. okay. that's for MY comfort. maybe reexamine why you're so upset about that that you feel the need to make#an entire post talking about how every non-sharer is insecure and mean and belittling.#self ship community#♡ — ok to rb#bonus: being insecure isn't a moral failing and i find the implication that it is kinda gross!#you're not somehow better than other people just because you're not!
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ehm
Huh
#its just the thoughts of alexa but noncanon kinda#man#i still love this idea troupe and i wish i wouldv3 written it better#there needs to be more works like this#yum angst#much better if there is hurt comfort (im hopeless)#my art#fnaf sundrop#fnaf moondrop#fnaf moon x reader#fnaf sb#fnaf sun x reader#fnaf security breach
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Whumpee who gets super drunk and tells Caretaker all the things Whumper did to them, their eyes slowly filling with tears, things that they’d never say if they were sober. And Caretaker is horrified.
#whump#whump things#whump blog#whump prompt#whump scenario#whumpee#whump writing#writing#writing prompt#caretaker#idk tbh#this is kinda shit sorry#whumper#caretaker x whumpee#idk lol#whumpee x caretaker#fluff scenario#comfort#comfort whump#hurt/comfort
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I have loved you once, I can’t do it again.
Lord knows how the last one ends, with me scrubbing the blood stains.
#spilled heart#spilled ink#spilled words#spilled thoughts#spilled emotions#my words#spilled prose#words#love#you broke my heart#sad thoughts#depressing shit#spilled tears#spilled feelings#spilled truth#unrequited love#spilled poetry#thoughts#random thoughts#kinda depressing#spilled love#fiction#poem#jean and sidney#sadnees#star crossed#hurt/comfort#im hurtin
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☁️ I'LL ALWAYS LOOK OUT FOR YOU
summary ⎯ you often struggle to come to terms with your insecurities that are fed into from hate online but having chris around just seems to make everything easier because you know that despite it all, chris will always be by your side, there to tell you just how much you mean to him and deserve.
warnings ⎯ chris x fem!reader, insecurities, cursing and a shit load of hurt/comfort
A/N ⎯ a bit different to what i normally write but i found it cute so 😊 this is also really short so i'm sorry!!
i hope you enjoy <3
❛ ━━･❪ ִ ࣪𖤐 ❫ ･━━ ❜
your eyes remain glued to the laptop screen in front of you, the dozen comments appear to blur together before your eyes and you know you shouldn't be doing this but you just can't help it. your boyfriend and his brothers alongside your other friends have told you on several accounts to just stay away from the words of the media but it's so hard when you feel like your every move is being judged and every last thing about you is being criticised by those you thought were people who loved you.
the hate comments started in small bundles and you would laugh at them with your friends and with chris, giggling away at the ones that had the most to say about nothing at all but then, they began to grow. it was as though a light switch had been flipped and suddenly, everywhere you looked you would find a hate comment. you try to ignore them, you really do, but they make you feel worthless. it makes you feel like you are not enough or that there's something wrong with you because neither matt nor chris nor nick receive anywhere near the same amount of hate.
it's taken you a lot of courage to open up to chris and even more courage to open up to your friends though you know they're there for you through every little thing but as days pass by, there's only so much of their advice you can actually follow. it's this constant reminder of don't listen to them y/n and you're trying, you really are but it's just so hard.
you blink at the particular comment displayed on the screen in front of you before clicking on the replies and hoping that people will be defending you. the first few do as such and you feel your mood rise slightly but then they fade through the people agreeing with the comment and you start to feel like you're suffocating. your chest seems to close in on yourself and you gasp at the newly found lack of oxygen. you push the laptop away from you in an attempt to hide everything that's going wrong with tears welling in your eyes. you don't let them fall because you don't want to come across as weak. you aren't weak.
you stare down at yourself, eyes raking over your appearance slowly and then it is as though your mind travels to another world you so desperately want to escape. you bite hardly at your nails and you feel a stray tear splash onto your lap, the drop settling in a small puddle of your pain and then being followed by many others. the tears are falling and you can't seem to control them and you slowly feel like you're sinking into this sea of your built up despair and you want to get out. you need to get out.
you don't even hear chris come in and at first, chris doesn't notice you are crying either until he hears a small gasp and he looks up, the sight before him making his heart shatter into a million pieces. he hates seeing his girlfriend upset but he hates the fact that you're crying alone even more. he wants to be there for you through everything, whether it's small or big because he loves you. he loves you so much and he'll do absolutely anything to show you that and so, seeing the tears fall from your eyes feels like failing on his end, a failure to be aware of what's happening right before his very eyes.
he walks closer to you and you finally notice your boyfriend standing there as you look up, making you quickly wipe at your tears and put on a smile that looks so sad, it just makes chris' heart break even further. he joins you on the bed and pulls you into an ever so tight embrace. you are hesitant for a very brief second and chris wants to speak but then you are hugging him, face burying itself into his shoulder and gentle droplets dissolving into the soft material of his hoodie. a small hiccup brings chris' attention back to the situation and you lift your eyes, them locking with chris' that look so welcoming, you forget all about your worries for a moment because you're next to him.
"you need to stop this y/n, stop letting people get to you. you're so fucking perfect and you should never change for anyone," chris mumbles into your ears, swaying your body back and forth as you continue to cry but chris' mere touch is already beginning to make you feel better and the words only feed into such.
"they hate me," you whisper as though you're scared of the words and truth be told, you sort of are.
you're so fucking scared to be disliked by people when all you're doing is being yourself. you don't want to change yourself but you find yourself thinking that if it means others liking you, you'll do absolutely anything. part of you calls the desire to change pathetic but the other side convinces you it's the right thing to do. why can't they just like you for who you are? why does this all have to be so fucking complicated?
"i love you and nick loves you and matt loves you. we all love you so much. say the words and we'll stop all of this y/n. no more videos, we don't have to do this," chris tells you for what feels like the millionth time, rubbing tender circles against the soft skin of your arm that practically shudders at the gentle, comforting touch.
"i- i don't want to stop. i just want them to stop," you reply and your voice sounds like it's mere seconds from making your entire being crumble and chris has to inhale slowly.
chris presses one kiss to your forehead and then another, the latter lingering and providing the sense of comfort you so deeply crave. you almost lean into chris' lips and when you wrap your arms around chris' torso, you feel so incredibly safe. there's something about simply existing with chris that makes you feel like every hurdle you face in life is worth it. having chris next to you reminds you that you are not alone and you adore him so much for reminding you of the fact constantly. your love for chris expands everyday and you're sure it's never going to stop growing but when it comes down to it all, you don't want it to stop. you want to love chris until you are unable to do anything but and you feel like you're getting closer and closer with every moment shared with him.
"you're so perfect," chris breathes out and for a moment, you can't help but believe him.
you steal a quick yet sweet kiss to your boyfriend's lips because chris just makes you want to never stop loving. chris makes you want to pause time so that you can remain with him for eternity and after. you find yourself thinking that you would let go of anything and everything if chris so much as mentioned the idea of disliking it. you would honestly give the world for chris and that thought is supposed to scare you due to how extreme it is but it really doesn't because you so much more than know chris would do the exact same for you, if not more.
"i love you," you tell him as you begin to feel the tears dry against your cheek and you smile softly when you feel chris' thumbs swipe across the soft skin, wiping away the stray liquid that once pooled your expression.
and then chris kisses your cheek and your arms and your stomach and your legs and every spot he can reach because he loves everything about you. and then he pecks your mouth, short and sweet but saying so much more than words ever can. no stupid comment in the entire world could change that he loves you and he's trying to show you that everyday. he's so patient with you because he knows the way your mind tries to trap you in this nightmare where you tell yourself you aren't good enough but you so much more than are. chris doesn't know another individual that even comes close to you. it's always you, it always has been and he knows it always will be.
"i love you so much y/n i'm always here for you. i'll always look out for you," chris chooses to reply and god you love him and his perfect solace so, so much.
the words ring in the air before they settle there softly and echo around in your head. when they try to dance away, chris just repeats them as though a mantra and you start to believe him. you believe the fact that chris will always be there because isn't that what he's been doing for years? hasn't he been by your side through every single hardship and not once complained about it? you are so beyond lucky to have him in your life and you do not fail to notice so or make it clear to chris.
"i don't deserve you," you smile, inhaling the crook of chris' neck because the scent smells like love and home.
"you deserve the fucking world and everything more," chris smiles back and you feel like you're bursting with euphoria.
you seem to forget about your insecurities, about the worries that run through your mind like an unwanted stream because chris is next to you. you don't leave chris' hug but chris can't find it in himself to mind, if anything, he just pulls you closer and you willingly go. you go wherever chris goes and you listen to whatever chris says because no one matters more than him. the hate seems to disappear and then it's just you and chris and you feel like you can breathe again. everything is okay and you're enough because chris tells you that you are and you always believe him.
#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#hurt/comfort#x reader#fem reader#insecurity#angst kinda#sturniolowhore
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Could you imagine what woukd happen if Soap just up and disappeared one day. Just uprooted everything and left the military and everyone else without a word. Something that seems so out of character for him, and everyone is just left wondering why? What happened? And most of all, is he okay?
The only one who has any semblance of what happened is Price, and that's only because Soap had to give him his discharge papers. When he tried to get any information out of Soap he simply wouldn't talk.
The task force is a little heartbroken, some more so than others, and every attempt to contact Soap after just seems to fail or be ignored. Most give up, but Ghost is desperate. He messages Soap every day, but he stops expecting a response after a while. He'll send Soap updates on his day, things he thought Soap would've liked to see, general thoughts. It's ridiculous, but he simply can't move on without some kind of closure.
What he doesn't know is Soap reads every message, they're one of the few things that keep him going now, if only he could get the confidence to text Simon back.
#idk where this was going#there was supposed to be a comfort part to this where soap just kinda texts ghost in a semi concious state#and they emd uo getting a reuinion of sorts bc ghost drops everything to come see him again but#i cant thinj#so you just get the hurt#my bad gang#ghostsoap#soapghost#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#cod#mw2
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🎵 Whoooo wants a nice little short 'n sweet post-Prime one shot with Sonic and Tails and some angst and also fluff and cuddles and nightmares and sadness and cuteness and the implementing of that one headcanon from the post I made about Sonic getting more cuddly and clingy when he's hurt or upset??? 🎵
Sonic Prime - Healing Hugs
Something had happened in the cave with Sonic. Tails was absolutely certain of it.
At first, it had just been pleasant changes, pleasant surprises. Sonic had suddenly switched to being a 100% team player, had started paying attention to each and every thing Tails instructed, and seemingly communicated with Shadow just as the Ultimate Lifeform arrived out of nowhere to Chaos Control the Paradox Prism to who-knows-where.
Then there had been the more weird changes.
Every time Tails opened his mouth, Sonic would drop everything to listen to every word with laser focus, even if it was about something as simple as what he was going to get for dinner or some cool comics he'd read. He was giving a lot more hugs, too, far more than usual. Sonic used to be a lot more selective about physical affection, but now, Tails couldn't seem to get through 30 minutes of a day without his older brother scooping him up in an embrace, however brief. Not that he was complaining, it was nice.
He kept catching the hedgehog lying around in the grass, fingering the green leaves with utter delight in his eyes. Once he found him on the beach, sitting in a palm tree and singing some kind of pirate-y sounding song. Another time he found him wandering slowly around the woods nearby, talking to the flickies about how pretty the trees were.
Something was off, but Tails couldn't put his finger on it. From his perspective, he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary happen during the battle in the cave, but Sonic's change in behavior made it painfully obvious something had.
Especially when the more negative changes started manifesting.
Not negative in a sense that Sonic was doing anything wrong. But he seemed . . . a little rattled. Some of his hugs were far more than just quick side squeezes. Sometimes he'd stare at Tails with an oddly pensive, faraway look in his eyes.
In bed, one night about a week after the cave incident, Tails found himself tossing and turning. These thoughts were driving him up the wall with how often they'd been occupying his mind lately.
He wanted so badly to sit down with Sonic and ask him what happened. He knew something had happened. But whether Sonic was willing to talk about it was another question entirely. He knew something was different, but he also knew his brother. Sonic didn't like uncomfortable conversations. If he felt unsafe, he would run.
Tails knew better than to confront him with questions that Sonic would likely not want to answer. If he'd wanted to tell Tails what was going on, what was different, he probably would've told him already.
With an exhausted sigh, Tails gave up trying to sleep and sat up in bed, casting a quick glance at the digital clock on his nightstand.
3:47 a.m.
Great. Even when I'm not working on a project, I STILL end up sleep-deprived. He smirked. At least Sonic can't get ticked at me this time, it's not my fault.
Speaking of the Blue Devil, he was right down the hall. Conked out on the couch, where he often slept. In fact, he'd been sleeping there every night for the past week.
Since he couldn't sleep, anyway, Tails slipped out of bed and crept down the hall, having memorized which boards creaked and which ones didn't. He half-hoped Sonic was awake so he'd have someone to talk to, but as he emerged into the living room, he saw his brother sound asleep, half-curled on his side.
Tails blinked and looked closer.
Sonic was asleep, but . . . he was also clinging extra tightly to his pillow. And he looked . . . incredibly stressed.
Was he having a bad dream?
Tails took a couple steps towards the couch until he stood right beside it. In past experiences where he'd found his brother having a nightmare, talking it out rarely helped. Sometimes even waking him up didn't help, either. He usually just wound up disoriented and panicking, and sometimes even ran off to deal with his feelings alone out in the wilderness.
Tails really didn't want him to leave. He also didn't want him to be alone.
He reached out and ever so gently placed his hand over Sonic's clenched fist, both ungloved.
One thing he had discovered about his brother during hard times like this was that he became more clingy. On the rare occasion he was visibly upset, he'd sometimes come up and just hug Tails without a word. When he was sick or injured somehow (and actually allowing himself to be taken care of), he tended to snuggle more. If he was in enough pain, he'd hold onto Tails as tightly as he could. Sometimes he'd do the same with their other friends, but Tails was always his go-to.
Not that it happened very often. Tails only knew these things because he'd known Sonic for most of his life. Sonic had raised him. He'd seen more of Sonic than anyone else had.
Now, he rubbed a finger over his brother's fist for a moment, then very carefully tugged the pillow out of Sonic's unconscious grasp. He set it softly on the floor, then carefully clambered onto the couch next to him, lay down, and hugged him tightly.
Without waking up, Sonic wrapped his arms around him in return and held him close, burying his face between Tails's ears with a barely audible whimper.
Tails could feel his brother's heartbeat racing, so he snuggled in closer and softly began to purr.
And, with time, he felt Sonic start to calm down.
A couple minutes went by, and his heart rate slowed down just a bit. The tension coiled throughout his entire body started to unwind, and his spiked-up quills lowered slightly in a more relaxed position. His ears were still kinda droopy, but he seemed a lot more restful than he had a few minutes ago.
Tails smiled, still bundled up tightly against Sonic. And his smile only grew wider when he felt his brother start purring, too.
There was something infinitely comforting about being held, about snuggling with his brother, the person who loved him to the moon and back. The person he loved in exactly the same way. For those moments, the very problems that had been keeping Tails awake half an hour earlier seemed to fade. He was here, Sonic was here, no words were spoken or needed, and they would be okay.
Tails slept soundly for the rest of the night.
-
The sound of flickies singing from the treetops woke Sonic the next day. He blinked blearily as his eyes came into focus, and he realized that Tails had joined him sometime during the night.
Once upon a time, waking up to find him right there had made him jump. It didn't anymore.
He smiled, carefully adjusting one hand so he could stroke his little brother's bangs and give him a tiny scratch behind one ear. Tails mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, and snuggled closer in Sonic's chest.
He grinned wider. Tails hadn't been snuggly to this level in a while. Granted, he'd always been the more snuggly one of the two of them, but still. It kind of reminded Sonic of the first couple years he'd been taking care of Tails, when the kit was between 3 and 4 years old.
His smile faded a little as he thought of Nine at that age, still alone, still being bullied and hurt, with no one to save him and show him the love and care he deserved.
He could only hope that the other Shatterverse variants were showing him such kindness now. The thought that he would never get to see him again made his heart ache in a way he couldn't quell.
Sonic studied Tails's sleeping face, noting the intense similarities and differences between him and Nine. He wondered whether Nine had always existed even before the Shatter event, as a part of his little brother that Tails would never bring to light. Was it the same with Mangey and Sails?
A tiny snort escaped him against his will as he thought about whether Mangey's existence was an implication that a part of Tails just wanted to go a little feral. Sometimes he couldn't blame him.
His suppressed laugh had Tails stirring, blinking open his big blue eyes. He looked back at Sonic, grinning sleepily. "G'morning."
Sonic ruffled his bangs again, smiling as Tails giggled. "G'morning, little buddy."
Stop calling me that!
He froze at the memory of Nine's angry shout, and Tails clearly saw it.
"Are you okay?" he asked with a gentle, inquiring frown, slowly sitting up.
Sonic sighed as he sat up as well, leaning back to stretch, then pulled his little brother close again. "I've got a story for you, bud," he admitted, deciding it was about time to open up about what had really happened in the cave.
Tails gazed up at him with surprise, but then smiled and nodded.
"I'm listening," he replied quietly.
AO3 version
Did I come up with this while hugging a giant pillow during my nap earlier today? Maybe :3
I also maybe just really wanted to implement that headcanon somewhere teehee
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#miles tails prower#sonic prime#sonic and tails#unbreakable bond#they're brothers your honor#sonic prime spoilers#nightmares#fic#my fic#my writing#sonic prime fanfic#one shot#hurt/comfort#they need all the hugs#they definitely needed this after all that and no one can convince me otherwise#especially sonic#boy was so clingy for most of the show 🥹#he needed more hugs himself#i would've given them to him myself but y'know#darn my physicality#ao3 link#ao3 fic#healing hugs#nine the fox#sorta - he's mentioned#i know it ends kinda inconclusive like but y'all already know what he's gonna tell him about so#minor angst
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Of Darkness and Light by Bayluff
It was running. It was running from him. Surging forward, he snagged the shadow of his prey, and slowly crawled up, sliding up a leg, up a strangehardback and finally, into the back of the neck.
Mikey suddenly stopped, shuddering, his breath hitching loudly. Leonardo immediately stopped and looked back. "Mikey? Mike what's wrong?" He questioned, concerned his feeling had been right.
"N-Nothing." Michelangelo said after a pause. "I just got real cold for a second." He laughed. "It's gone now."
My angst gremlin heart was appeased by this fic, lol. But also! I was cooing over all the comfort Mikey got while he was having a Bad Time (tm). ALSO, please don't tag this as ship in anyway. That's insta-block behavior.
Less eye-straining first image ^^
#tmnt#tmnt mikey#tmnt 2003#tmnt 2k3#tmnt leo#tmnt donnie#tmnt raph#tmnt splinter#fic fanart#my art#had to make that note about ships just to be safe cuz like#y'all do you but leave me Out Of It#and tag your stuff properly#anyways FAMBLYYY#this fic is kinda cheesy but it does give that good good hurt/comfort content#also *salutes the author* couldn't find their social media (if they have one) so hope you're doing well wherever you are#and also yes I will be doing fic fanart regardless of when a fic was posted#if it activates my art brain it's been Chosen
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