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honeycollectswhump · 6 months

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All That Matters

[masterlist]

prepare for very silly and self-indulgent 1800 words of comf... with some slight alluding to ava's past :D this is a callback (call-forward??) to Warmth! they cuddle so often that he instinctually remembers it post-recapture

CW: drunkeness, past pet whump (implied)

“Attie, wake up. We're home.” Aveline calls over her shoulder, while Atlas just grunts, his face sleepily mushed against the window of her car.

After a moment, he stirs, leaning away from the window and looking around to search for her. It takes a while for his eyes –half-lidded and hazy– to focus on her, but he visibly relaxes as soon as they do.

It’s not far from her car to the front door, but the distance barely matters with Atlas’ state. Plus afterwards, they’ll still have to conquer the stairs, and Aveline can only hope that everything goes smoothly, that there is no accident, hope that she is prepared for an accident, and–

She stops that mental list from spiralling further. She doesn’t need to worry about accidents, everything is fine.

Instead, she heaves Atlas out of the car, putting one arm around his waist to stabilise him and begging to God that he will at least try to help with the walking. In comparison to her Attie, she has always been small, and that has rarely ever helped her.

His head immediately lolls to the side, resting on top of hers, and Atlas sighs deeply, almost sinking into her embrace. It’s awkward, the way his hefty frame bends and leans on her like a puppet with its strings cut.

Carefully, Aveline directs and announces every step for him to follow as he clumsily tries to get his legs to cooperate. Despite what she considers his best efforts, Atlas nearly pulls them both down multiple times. Her never-aching bruises serve as enough proof for the frequency, and Aveline would really prefer to avoid more of those.

No amount of covering is able to hide freshly forming bruises from Atlas, who has spent enough of his lifetime receiving them. And without fail, seeing them would drive him near tears and to endless apologies for pain he wouldn’t be able to cause even if he wanted to.

Finally, they reach the front door of her cosy home, which Atlas has also made his. Aveline is already out of breath and rests Atlas against the wall to get her keys out. Immediately, he slides down in a fit of nonsensical giggles.

It’s warm inside, thankfully. Aveline can still feel the chill on her skin from Atlas’ freezing touch. He had been lying in the grass for God knows how long, drunk and left alone by his so-called friends. Or maybe it was his own foolish decision to go home alone, even though he knows how dangerous that is and she just cannot understand why he’d do it anyways!

She takes Atlas’ hands to pull him up again and he looks at her, confusion creasing his brows again, even though he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Wha…what ‘m I”, Atlas pauses as if willing his tongue to form the words, “doin’ ‘ere?”

She hates this, she really does. But it doesn’t matter.

“You’re home.” Aveline sighs. “It’s like four in the fucking morning and you called me.” She stops herself. “No, forget that. It’s good that you called me. The rest doesn’t matter, let’s just get inside, please.”

“M’kay”, he slurs, his eyes closed.

For a second Aveline thinks he will fall asleep right then and there, but then he gets on his hands and knees and starts crawling inside. Still, he is swaying heavily and crashes into the doorway at one point, when she offers him help.

“I can… I can do… this! Bes–besides, I’m used…”, Atlas swallows thickly, “I… know this.”

Something about that makes her sleep-addled brain feel… off?

Aveline closes the door behind him, taking in a deep breath. Now that she is surrounded by the welcoming warmth of her home again, her exhaustion comes back crashing in, and she is barely able to stifle a yawn.

Atlas is already losing the battle against his shoelaces, with clumsy fingers grabbing at nothing. His head keeps falling forward like it weighs too much for him to hold up and he is blinking repeatedly, as if that would clear his blurry vision. Only with her help is he able to free himself.

“You think you can make it upstairs, big guy?” Aveline asks, laying one hand against his cheek to stabilize him. Almost instinctively, Atlas leans into her touch. His body follows, slumping heavily against her.

Sometimes, it confuses her how such an imposing guy can make himself so small, when he curls up against her, seeming to chase any warmth possible.

The thought makes her heart ache and she wraps Atlas in a one-armed hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

Her Attie.

He lets his head drop against her chest, as she plays with his hair. It’s the closest thing to “petting” him that she will do and it calms him quickly. It usually does.

Against her touch, Atlas’ breathing starts to even out, his eyes slipping shut. It’s as good as any sign that it’s now or never to get him into bed. Aveline can just barely manage the task of moving him when he can stumble along. It becomes all but impossible when he is fully asleep.

With a smile on her lips, she nudges him a couple of times, until he blearily opens his hazy eyes again, making a confused noise that disappears into a hiccup.

“Come on, Attie. Up you go.” With that, she hoists him up again, slinging one of his arms over her shoulder, holding it tight with her own. Atlas overcorrects, throwing their fickle balance off-centre sending them stumbling into the nearest wall and Aveline prays to God that it won’t leave any unfortunate bruises this time.

Atlas braces himself against the wall and it takes her a moment to find a more secure position with her other arm wrapped around his waist before she continues their journey up the stairs. Sometimes, Aveline wonders if Atlas even guesses at the worry this brings her every time.

What if they fall down? What if she slips and sends him tumbling down the stairs? What if anything happens and he breaks something or ends up with a concussion or hypothermia if she can’t get to him fast enough? What the hell is she supposed to do when she can’t even bring him to a fucking hospital?!

Doesn’t matter. Stop.

This Atlas, the one that is not in her thoughts, dying hundreds of frightening deaths she couldn’t prevent, seems completely oblivious, babbling on about what Aveline assumes is a drinking game they played. However, she is pretty sure he is mixing up at least two if not three different games and frankly, he is not explaining them well.

When they reach the top Aveline is panting with exhaustion. Atlas is already quite hefty and it doesn’t help that he is as good as dead weight in her arms, his legs just barely cooperating.

She tries to steer him into his room, the old floorboards creaking under their feet, but Atlas resists, shaking his head vehemently.

“No… no, please… I don’ wanna… no”.

Oh. Right.

Even blackout drunk, Atlas is eerily good at begging, the words sounding too desperate to fit the playful lilt of his voice. The reminder makes her stomach drop.

He stumbles out of her grasp and away from his room as if he can’t stand the sight of it. He barely makes it down the hall, clinging to her doorframe after just a couple of unsteady steps.

“Atlas, what…? What are you doing?”

Atlas, her dear Attie, flinches so hard he tumbles back onto the floor, lowering his head and fixing his gaze on the ground.

“‘M sorry. I wanna sleep… wanna sleep here. ‘M sorry. Please?”

It breaks her heart, the way he avoids her eyes. Even without seeing it directly, she knows there are tears in his. It feels twisted to hope that he hides them from some sense of embarrassment, but it’s better than the fear that tears are forbidden.

“Please, Ava… I don’ wanna be ‘lone.” Atlas pleads, mistaking her silence for rejection. In an instant, Aveline kneels down in front of him, closing the distance he surely imagines to be greater.

She can try to pretend that she gives in just for Atlas, to calm him down in what she already knows is a too-vulnerable state. But it would only be a sad attempt at covering the truth that Aveline will already spend half of her night checking up on him, to make sure that he is still breathing. In the end, that’s the only thing that matters.

“It’s alright. Of course, you can. I won’t leave you alone, Attie, I promise.” As if the decision is any trouble for her. As if it doesn’t calm the ever-present worry gnawing at the back of her mind.

The effects are instant though. Immediately, his shoulders slump in relief and his features relax. Atlas meets her gaze with tears shining in his eyes and lets himself fall back into her embrace, squeezing her tightly. Aveline can only just catch herself before she topples over from the unexpected weight, but it’s worth it.

It takes even more energy she hardly has anymore, but Aveline manages to lift Atlas up again, just enough to sit him down on her bed. Promptly, he flops down, somehow worming his way under her blanket despite his incoherent state.

After a moment, she changes back into her pyjamas that she left haphazardly lying on the ground after she got the call to pick Atlas up, and joins him under the warm blanket. Atlas is still in his day clothes but she has decidedly not the energy to do something about that, and much rather deposits the responsibility of cleaning onto her tomorrow-self.

In no time at all, he wraps her in a loose hug, sighing into her hair. Aveline doesn’t mind, even if his breath carries the biting scent of alcohol.

“Missed you tonight,” Atlas mumbles. “Was nice… jus’ not the same.” A sigh escapes him. “You wouldn’t… wouldn’t let it get… this bad. ’M sorry, Ava.”

Aveline can’t bring herself to say It’s alright. It just isn’t. But he can’t change what he’s already done and she loves him anyways, always.

She pulls herself closer to her Attie, pressing her ear to his chest, right above his heart. The exasperation, the worry, the exhaustion, none of it matters if she is just able to hear his heartbeat, to feel his breath on her hair. He is alive.

Atlas is alive and that is all that matters.

taglist: @octopus-reactivated, @sodacreampuff, @topsheepstudent let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

#i had this written for a while but debated if i should even post it #but why keep them being silly to myself #plus i haven't posted about them in a while #Holding Up The Sky #aveline king (oc)#atlas/mutt (oc)#honey's writing #drunk whumpee #whumpee and caretaker #recovering whumpee #past pet whump #hurt/comfort #exhausted caretaker #unhealthy coping mechanisms #hugs #gentle caretaker #drunkeness

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gun-roswell · 1 month

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clone Trooper Boil & Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil/Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars) Characters: Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Waxer/Boil Month, Cloneshipping | Clone Trooper/Clone Trooper Relationships (Star Wars), Part of Series, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars), Friendship/Love, night out, Drunkenness, slip of the tongue, Sharing a Bed, Platonic Cuddling Series: Part 12 of Waxer/Boil, Part 8 of Waxer/Boil Month 2024 Summary:

Week 2 prompt: platonic cuddling

After a night out on the town, a non-date as it were, in efforts of trying to mend broken fences. Boil and Waxer do share a bed. Platonically. But is that all to it?

Part of Waxer/Boil Month 2024 // Waxer/Boil series

#fanfic #star wars #the clone wars #waxerboilmonth #waxerboilmonth2024 #waxer/boil #cloneshipping #platonic cuddling #prompts #night on the town #drunkeness

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take-care-with-your-glasses · 6 months

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A drunk Holiday :3

Title: That Christmas party

Link:

Summary: There is one Christmas party that Six does not like to talk about.

Pairing: Holix

Fandom: Generator Rex

#ao3 fanfic #Generator Rex #holix #rebecca holiday #agent six #drunkeness

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miramilocamimira · 6 months

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You're Important

———-

Very, very rarely does Zeus stay very long at these parties. Hera, however, made him promise that he would stay until everyone else left. And, in the arms of both his drunk brothers, he deeply regrets it.

How did this happen? Well, it's simple. It starts halfway through the celebration where his children and siblings started having a drinking contest. Dares and bets and a couple of destroyed statues later, he gets to watch most of them drunkenly stumble out of the room and to wherever they wished.

He had refrained as he was using the chance to check over the paperwork of a couple of things. And now, add on the proper forms to get things restored. Delightful.

Now, this is where it always gets annoying.

His wife was talking with a rather flushed Demeter when he suddenly felt arms wrap around him. Saltwater and a fishy scent are what he smells as Poseidon decides he needs to know what Zeus is doing. His cheek is squished as his older brother leans in to attempt reading the documents.

Poseidon mumbles something, truly incomprehensible, but Zeus starts reading the papers aloud and feels the Sea God nod his head. He sighs as Poseidon situates himself to be more comfortable and apparently, that means he needs to be petted. Still, he keeps reading as the hand starts going through his hair.

With a quick glance around the room, he notes that Hades is still next to Persephone and Amphitrite. Good, he thinks as he glances back down to make sure he's reading the papers right. Because the last thing he needs is for him to get upset that his favoring Poseidon. As though he had a choice in it. Nonetheless, it's just easier- and where did Hades go?

He looked away for just a moment! Zeus catches Hera’s eyes and sees a glint in them. The crafty witch. She starts gathering and pushing the other immortals out of the room as Hades practically glomps onto his left side. He can't move without upsetting them and she knows he hates this type of intimacy.

Sex is different, okay. It's either used to help relieve stress or repopulate. This horrible action of physical contact serves no purpose whatsoever. Hades starts, predictably, complaining that Zeus should like his eldest brother more.

Poseidon, of course, has to disagree. He stops petting and Zeus can no longer concentrate. Not because of the arguing but because it turns nonsensical really quickly.

As in they slur their words too much and suddenly Hades has a highlighter and Poseidon is attempting to hold him down.

“Important” he hears them both mutter in between their gibberish, agreeing, and he just sighs and lets them draw. It takes a while but once he's marked well enough that they are satisfied they’ll go back to cuddling and petting.

When they sober up they'll go back to disliking him and he won't bring it up.

———

Hera smirks at her brothers the next day. If they would just tell Zeus the truth then they wouldn't have to use being drunk as an excuse to show affection.

#mylo writes #mylo wrote #pjo fanfic #pjo fandom #pjo zeus #pjo poseidon #pjo hades #pjo hera #drunkeness #fake drunkness #Hades & Zeus & Poseidon

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rosealiceroyal · 8 months

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They weren’t complete idiots, Alex defends to Zahra with a pout when she tossed the newspaper under his nose the morning after, they knew to be on their best behaviour for the foreseeable future.

But.

Or, Five Times First Son Alex Gabriel Claremont-Diaz and His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Edward James Mountchristen-Windsor-Fox Accidentally Got Caught Doing Public Displays Of Affection And One Time They Absolutely Knew They Were Being Photographed.

1- Dancing

2- Baby

3- Lick

4- Pride

5- Hit

6- Ring

Language: English Words: 7,655 Chapters: 6/6 Comments: 52 Kudos: 773 Bookmarks: 151 Hits: 13,097

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #5+1 fic #pet names #pride parade #drunkeness #body shots #tequila #hospitalization #engagement #5+1 things #firstprince

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wiirocku · 1 year

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1 Peter 4:3 (NLT) - You have had enough in the past of the evil things that godless people enjoy—their immorality and lust, their feasting and drunkenness and wild parties, and their terrible worship of idols.

#1 Peter 4:3 #enough #past #evil #things #godless #people #enjoy #immorality #lust #feasting #drunkeness #wild parties

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 1 year

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"Whereas the Bible explicitly forbids drunkenness, it nowhere requires total abstinence. Make no mistake: total abstinence from alcohol is great. As a Christian you are certainly free to adopt that as a lifestyle. But you are not free to condemn those who choose to drink in moderation." - Sam Storms

#drinking #drunkeness #alcohol #what does the Bible say?#Sam Storms #Christian Quotes

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anechomirrored · 1 year

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Fandom: Swapfell AU

Rating: T

Prompt(s): "You love this, don't you?"

Warnings: Drinking and drunken flirting

To say you were not a bit warey of the patron slumped at the table before you would be untrue. You were in fact, quite unsure about them.

It was not that this scenario was anything out of the ordinary. It was just another night shift at the bar.

A closing shift.

You were used to the odd person passing out and requiring first a wake up and then assistance in calling a ride home. You and the rest of the staff genuinely did their best not to over serve, but every once and awhile someone slipped through the cracks.

A student whose pregaming hit them all at once, a business suit who snuck something during their last trip to the bathroom. You had delt with people and monsters alike in similar states as this before but still it was a bit different this time.

This patron was a fire elemental for starters and like most monsters, he was not terribly friendly looking.

That is why Tyler had tagged you in.

Tyler was a good guy, really. Very efficient at keeping the bar in order but when it came to tough customers he had a short fuse.

"Yer up , Smiles." He said, his voice tight.

He walked past you and behind the bar grabbing a fresh bar cloth, intent on taking over clean up.

"They don't pay me near enough to put up with pricks like him." He grumbled.

Nevermind that you were paid the same.

Instead you just nodded and made your way to the back table where the offending monster still lay with his head back against the side of the booth.

And now, here you stood.

It must have been a long day at work. You take a moment to admire his clearly tailored, albeit wrumpled clothes. As disheveled as they are you can tell this fellow likely cleans up nice.

Certainly not now though. The smell of strong liquor hits you immediately and you take a moment to steeled yourself.

"Excuse me."

Your first attempt to get his attention fails.

"Hey there," you call, voice hightening and growing a bit louder.

This usually does the trick.

The gold and amber flames licking about his form waver before brightening. His scowl deepens as his eyes become visable.

He lets out a disgruntled sound and makes as if to roll over dispite being seated.

Here we go!

"Hey, sorry to wake you but it is closing time." You say.

He makes a hum of acknowledgement but makes no move to rise.

"Come on up ya get." You keep your voice easy and polite.

The elemental groans, running a hand down his face.

"Just shut the lights off and let me sleep!"

Eyeing a spill at the edge of the table, you pull a bar cloth from your half apron pocket.

"Nope, ya need to get up and go home." Bleary eyes watch you as you wipe down the table.

This was your first time reading expressions on a living flame but you see what looks like a pained expression take over his features at that suggestion.

Or was it regret?

"Ain't nothing for me there." He murmurs.

You gave him a sympathetic look, still wiping down the table. Your next words are softer, to match his but firm.

"Well, this bar doesn't have anything for ya either." You risk reaching for his half empty glass and startle as his hand closes over yours.

"It has you, Angel." His flames are warm and strangly solid to the touch.

"Nice try." You pull away gently, very aware of the tingling sensation he's left on your skin.

"Nice hands." He follows your movements as you step back, glass in hand.

You supress a small awkward laugh.

"Enough of that, let me call you a cab."

"Can you call me yours instead?" He smirks and you let a bark of laughter slip.

"Wow, are you always this bad?"

You buss the glass over to Tyler's abandoned tray on the next table over.

"Are you always this beautiful?"

You take a breath and pull out your phone

"Alright time to go, hot shot! " you dial the number for River Cabs, a service run by monsters for monsters.

"Aw, pet names already?" he let out a crackling chuckle.

"You're unbelievable."

" Yeah, but..." He heaves himself up and sways dangerously.

You put out a hand to steady him. He flinches, an action he attempts to shrug off but you catch it. You loose a quick apology, though a second later he is leaning heavily into your offered support.

That drunkenly confident smirk returns.

"You love this, don't you?"

With a sigh you begin guiding him towards the door.

"A drunken tower of fire beligerantly attempting to flirt his way out of leaving? Surprisingly,no I don't."

"You're smiling though." He teases and you supress another rush of embarassment.

"I'm paid to smile." You retort.

He mutters something unintelligible as you mercifully reach the door just as the cab pulls up.

"Time to head home."

Glancing up you think you catch another flinch as you attempt to move away and push open the door.

His reluctance is palpable as he looks at the vehicle that will take him back to wherever he call home.

As unwanted as his advances were, you felt a pang of sympathy.

Home wasn't a happy place for everyone.

"Safe travels." You say a bit more gently.

You gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go.

That seemed to do something.

He drew himself up eyes bleary but a bit sharper as he took in the street and cab before him.

"Sure, you too, Angel."

#fictober22 #swapfell #swapfell Grilby #drunkeness #the trials of a bartender #echoes transcribed

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itsnothappening · 2 years

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cloud nine [chloe & jon]

word count: +0.7k

summary: "i said i love you," chloe mumbled now, her secret out in the open. "and i hate that i love you because i know you'll never feel the same."

a/n: part 2 to seventh heaven!!

ao3 | wattpad | prompts | masterlist

Chloe yawned loudly — and drunkenly — as Jon, who was much soberer than her, drove her to her apartment. Obviously, with her being the famous personality she was, her apartment was the best of the best.

Chloe couldn't wait to sink into the plush sheets of her bed, especially since she had puked her guts out at the party. Apparently, without Marinette to censor her, Chloe couldn't control her alcohol intake.

But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

"You know," Chloe somewhat slurred to Jon. "I really, really, really like you."

Jon looked at her sideways and raised his eyebrows curiously. "I really like you too."

Chloe giggled loudly, head lolling to the side. "Not like a friend, idiot. Like actually like-like you."

The car jerked abruptly, but Jon said nothing. If Chloe was sober, she would have stopped herself immediately after the first words slipped out, but drunk Chloe had no filter.

"Do you wanna know what I like about you?" Chloe phrased it like a question, but really, it was a statement.

Jon remained silent, continuing to drive, which Chloe took as a yes.

She started off with the most obvious. "You're pretty. Like, really pretty, in the way that I kinda feel like I can't breathe. I love it and I hate it at the same time because it means other girls like you too. I don't like that."

If Chloe looked closer, she would have seen the slight blush growing on Jon's cheeks, and yet, he was silent.

Chloe continued, ignoring his silence, and in hindsight, making the situation worse. "But that's not the only thing, obviously. I love how you can make me laugh, even when I'm about to cry."

Sniffling a little at that, Chloe rubbed her eyes 'surreptitiously' so that Jon didn't get suspicious.

Jon looked at her for the first time since she had started her 'speech.'

"Are you alright?" he asked, concernedly, already getting ready to stop the car.

Chloe tried to hold back the tears — she really did — but it just wasn't working, no matter how much she tried.

Immediately, Jon pulled the car over and gathered her in his arms as she sobbed.

Jon attempted to soothe her by running his hands over her hair, as he had done countless times before, despite Chloe's warnings not to, but nothing seemed to be working.

"Shh," he whispered, his heart already breaking on looking at Chloe's tear-stained eyes, and mascara-run cheeks. "Tell me what I can do to help you. Please, Chloe."

Chloe shook her head despondently, unable to stop the tears from slipping out.

"You can't do anything," she choked out. "You'll just make it worse."

That one sentence was enough to make Jon's passage of time pause...and shatter. Those were five words he never thought he would hear Chloe say to him. What had he done?

Chloe noticed his expression and rushed to make things right. "No — that's not what I meant—"

But Jon was already standing up, getting ready to leave because if he would just make things worse, wouldn't it be better if he just left? Before he ruined things even more?

"Jon, wait—" Chloe said, standing up, eyes wide. "I didn't mean that I swear."

Jon looked at her, hurt pasted all across his face. "Then why would you say something like that?"

Chloe was angry now — how could he get mad at her for something she couldn't even control?

Angry-drunk Chloe had even fewer regards for filters as she yelled out, "Because I love you!"

There was complete silence after that — not a sound was made except for Chloe's heavy breathing, and Jon's almost imperceptible breathing.

"What?" he gaped at Chloe like a fish. "You— what?"

"I said I love you," Chloe mumbled now, her secret out in the open. "And I hate that I love you because I know you'll never feel the same."

"What are you talking about?"

Chloe jumped; Jon had super-speed to her, his face inches away from hers.

"What do you mean?" she asked, using her usual arrogance as her shield.

Jon was closer than he had ever been before now. Just a tiny step forward and they would be kissing...

"I mean," Jon said, his breath fanning across Chloe's lips. "I love you too."

In less than a second, the two of them were kissing fiercely on the side of the road, barely pulling away for air.

It was only sometime later that those three words were uttered again.

When they sat in the car again, they realised how much time had passed.

Chloe couldn't help but giggle as she saw the 18 missed calls from Marinette. How the tables had turned.

#maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #jon kent #jonathan kent #fluff #angst #drunkeness #crying #yelling #ily

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