#a little hurt/comfort

[ash-writies]

I saw your bingo post. Please one bed trope with Connor is all that I need today!!!

A/n: I was hoping this one would get requested! I love it and I hope you enjoy <3 Updated bingo at the end!!!!! Original car here!!

Summary: You and Connor were assigned on a case that required you to leave town. Upon arrival at the hotel your department booked you realized there was only one bed…

Warnings: gets kinda steamy here and there but nothing explicit

1.1k Words

You opened the door to your hotel, the station had provided it for this case, and began to look around. You set your duffel bag on the counter and pushed open the door to the bathroom. There was nothing inherently special about the room but you were excited to begin this case.

“Wow,” you sighed, “it’s kinda cool here.”

The android hummed, “did you review the case? We’ll be starting in the morning.”

“Yup!” you said, running your hand over the dresser, “I did it on the ride here.” You glanced at the bed. It sat almost perfectly in the middle of the room, the edges of its pristine sheets tucked in. “Oh”

Connor sat at the desk, “is there something wrong y/n?”

“Yeah, there’s only one bed,” you pointed.

“That shouldn't be a problem, I don’t need to sleep like that,” he shrugged.

You pressed your lips together, “isn’t it more comfortable laying down though?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a moment, “alright… I’m going to take a shower real quick.”

“Okay, I’ll review the case one more time before going into ‘rest’ mode.” You nodded and grabbed your bag, hurrying into the bathroom. 

You took your shower quick and dried your hair. You stepped into the main room and saw Connor still sitting on the car. His eyes were closed and his LED was spinning blue. You hesitantly took a few steps closer and knelt next to him. He sat with perfect posture in the chair with his hands place in his lap. You tilted your head to the side and continued to observe him, each feature putting you into a trance. If you squinted you realized you could barely see the seams that ran along his body.

“Y/n?” you jumped onto your feet and looked at him squarely. You had been so distracted that you didn’t realize he opened his eyes, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah- yup!” you cleared your throat, placing a hand on your chest, “I- um, I’m going to sleep. G’night.” You began to walk to the bed.

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused, “Uh, goodnight.” You tugged the top of the blankets free and scrambled under them, eager to get out of his sight. You could feel your heat beating out of your chest and was sure Connor could see it too.

You silently lay there as your heart rate slowed down, and your breathing, and your mind. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you shot straight up in bed. You were gasping as your eyes darted around the room, not yet used to the darkness. 

Your eyes landed on a familiar light shining from the desk, “are you alright? You seem to have had a nightmare.” You didn’t say anything, you only continued looking at him. Although it was more like for him, you could see the vague shape he was making but nothing else. “Y/n?” he asked, slowly walking towards you.

“I’m okay,” you muttered, sleep still heavy in your voice, “it was just a stupid dream.”

“Will you be able to get some more rest?”

“Probably not,” you groaned.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you shot him a confused look, “sometimes humans require comfort inorder to go back to sleep.”

“Oh no- you don’t have to,” you stammered, shaking your head.

“Staying up before a busy day will have negative affects on your health and on your ability to complete assignments.”

“I’ll be fine, I don't need you to help.”

“I would like to if that’s okay with you.” He smiled, artificial muscles flexing as he expertly tilted his head to the side. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, he nodded eagerly, “that’s fine i guess.” You tried to sound annoyed and reluctant although you were sure he could see through it. His LED flashed yellow as you slid to the other side of the bed. He began to climb in with you before you stopped him, “uh uh! First off you need to take off your shoes,” you pointed. You continues as he pulled them off, “next, you need to take off your outer jacket.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “oh?”

“Not like that,” you felt your face flush and swatted at him, “we just don’t need you overheating or anything…”

“You seem to be overheating,” he teased, pulling his jacket off and setting it on the night stand. He leaned forward and rested his cool hands on your cheeks, “but it’s not like you’re wearing much…”

You placed your hands on his wrists, “it’s these blankets-”

“Your hands are cold, you can’t fool me,” he laughed, quietly, almost to himself.

“I thought you wanted me to go back to sleep,” you muttered, “you’re only keeping me up.” He cast you a lopsided frown, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Fine, I guess I’m done for now,” he released your face and stepped off the bed. 

“Good,” you watched as he adjusted his shoes so that they were neatly next to the bed. Once he finished he climbed under the covers.

There was a lot of shuffling before both of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, “is there anything else that would bring you comfort?”

Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the nightmare, “no, this is alright.”

“Okay.” He watched as you fell asleep and waited a few hours before moving as he didn’t want to wake you. He shifted so that he was resting on his back. It was easier to go into rest mode without having to worry about balancing. He glanced at you one more time before allowing himself some more rest.

You woke up slowly, Connor made sure not to startle you awake, “y/n it’s time for you to wake up.” You groaned and stretched. Just as you were about to complain about five more minutes you realized you were on top of him. You quickly lifted yourself up so that you were hovering over him.

“Um, sorry about that,” you awkwardly laughed, moving to get away from him.

He held your waist, keeping you close, “it’s fine, I did offer to help you get rest last night.” You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips. His LED spun yellow.

“Do you wish we didn’t get any?” you teased breathlessly.

It flashed red as his eyes met yours, “kinda,” he huffed.

You leaned forward until your lips were right next to his ear, “well that just sucks doesn’t it?” you whispered. You rolled off him and began picking out your clothes for the day, “You should get ready too, although I love the look, I don’t think the others would appreciate seeing you with bed head.”

#Connor detroit bh #connor detroit become human #dbh connor #connor rk800 #detroit become human #dbh #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 x reader #connor x y/n #a little hurt/comfort #connor dbh fluff

[jomiddlemarch]

snowball fight

“Was it worth it?”

You watched them through the window. Ellie had started it, because of course she had. Also, no one else would have dared, not even Tommy, though Tommy was game once they’d gotten going and he had a pretty good arm, if not Joel’s sniper aim. You weren’t going to think about that, the other times Joel had had to fight, not when Ellie’s braids were flying and Joel’s cheeks were flushed, their faces bright. Despite the window, you could sort of hear the laughter, the shouts, the thud of the snowballs, that joyous mayhem.

It had lasted a half hour. Joel had walked in through the door and then leaned against it. You’d known from the stiff way he held his shoulders, that slight purse of his lips. 

“What?” he said, too still.

“Throwing out your back in a snowball fight,” you answered. 

“Yeah,” he said. He grimaced, then gave you a shit-eating grin. “It was. I won.”

“You know all I’ve got is some arnica,” you said. 

“And your two hands. Plus, now you can rag me about this forever—”

“Forever’s a long time,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m countin’ on it, darlin’,” he said. 

#tlou fanfic #joel/you #joel miller #holiday prompts #drabble advent #joel and tommy #ellie williams #found family #domestic #a little hurt/comfort #Joel being a middle-aged man and not a superhero

[the-cookie-of-doom]

can someone please just write this fic for me, I don't wanna finish it, I'm tired 😭

#cookie speaks #there's no reason for me to be writing this!!! #stupid dum dum unchained bts #ruined my evening #ruining my whole WEEK atp #god #i just wanted #a little whump #a little hurt/comfort #a little bit of wet and pathetic kim #now we're 10k in with no end in sight #jesus take the wheel #i want to READ this not WRITE IT!!! #UNFAIR!

[jadewing-realms]

zevwarden week 2022 - day 1

i only just learned this is a thing, so i have nothing prepared, but i figured i’d attempt some flash fiction anyway. i’ve never written for dragon age before, much less written zevran, so... here goes. be kind to me jfklsfjds

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins

Title: ZevWarden Week, Day 1 - Culture

Pairing: Zevran x male!Warden; Zevran Arainai x Salem Surana (x Leliana, poly!Warden inferred)

Word Count: 1,493

Zevran has a difficult relationship with the memories of his old home and the culture surrounding it. The Warden never got the chance to have a home, a culture, which tends to lead him to pry into others’, especially Zev’s. Finding some sort of balance between these vastly differing histories is a complicated affair. 

_______________

It had been a long time since Zevran fully denounced anything that reminded him of Antiva. As much as he often told boastful stories of the hardships that land held for all who called it home, relishing in the way it made more fortunate people incredibly uncomfortable to consider, he never liked recalling those darker corners of his mind. They were the parts of him that haunted his worst nightmares. He didn’t know what to do with them. So he made light of them, brushed them off as inconsequential campfire stories and little more. Beyond that, he was content to ignore the memories.

So when his dear Grey Warden began asking probing questions about the Antivan observation of Satinalia, he dismissed it at first. Mentioned the usual, the drinking, the dancing, the Crow meetings, the feasting and tomfoolery, everything the average tourist would expect to hear, and he didn’t bother elaborating. He’d come to realize later that he’d neglected to notice the subtle furrow of disappointment in Salem’s pallid brow.

In his defense, Salem had many furrows in his face. The blood magic had not been kind to his elven features. Zevran was used to finding him sitting beneath a tree, legs and arms crossed, back to the trunk and a ponderous expression twisting that pale, scar-worn face. He’d ask what he was thinking about, and Salem always had an interesting answer.

As the Ferelden autumn waned, Salem kept coming to him, little questions about Satinalia on his lips. It reached a point of incessance, and Zevran let his temper get the better of him at one point.

“Stop! I do not know what this is, why you seem so insistent about a culture that is not yours, but I am not a guidebook. This is not a pleasant thing for me to remember! Do you understand?” His voice had been sharp, defensive. “Question after question. Please - let it lie.”

No, Satinalia - as infectious as the lively holiday air was every year, as enjoyable as the festivities and the masks and the food was - was a fancy coat hanging on the emaciated shoulders of all his greatest regrets. Greatest fears. A life in which such occasions were only temporary respites from despair. 

Salem had heeded him, left the subject alone after that. Later, when his royal majesty, Alistair, came to Zevran with similar questions, he just about told the Ferelden off for doing Salem’s dirty work for him. Alistair had been confused, in that silly, rather endearing way he always was.

“What are you talking about? He has nothing to do with - well, not nothing...”

“Aha!” Zev had been so terribly confident. “I knew it! I told him, I do not want to think about it, and now, I am telling you the same.” He’d folded his arms, pointedly averting his gaze, like a petulant child. He didn’t even care that much, but he’d made his stand and was digging in his heels.

“Oh, well, I mean...” Alistair had shrugged. “I guess... That makes some sense. But uh. If you change your mind... we’re all sort of... conspiring? What I mean is, we - Leliana, Oghren, Teagan - were hoping to throw a sort of... our own celebration, just for Surana. Just a little private matter. Bring a little something from all our homelands, since... you know... the Tower and everything.”

The Tower. Something had clicked, then. Zevran wanted to ignore the culture of his homeland, leave it behind, never look upon it again. Salem... had nothing. No culture, no history to speak of, fondly or not. He’d spoken of it in passing, always fleeting and shallow, the same way Zevran spoke of his own history - a young city elf, just a boy, taken from his home. Locked in a fortress. Knowing of only what traditions the Circle deemed fit for him to know.

That experience was what gave Salem the bone-deep curiosity Zevran found so enticing, after all. 

Still, it seemed a hollow gift if Zevran were to simply concede, knowing all the possible reminders of Antiva he may have to face should traditions make their way into this little celebration. He’d get lost in them.

"Then rewrite them,” Leliana had said one night, as the two lay in bed, waiting up for a Warden who’d been caught up in writing a number of diplomatic missives.

“How do you mean, exactly?” Zev hadn’t hidden his bewilderment from her.

“Well,” she said, patient, “it is not Satinalia itself that has caused you pain, is it?”

“Well, no.”

“It is the memories around it, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“Then perhaps it is worth attempting to replace those old and painful memories... with happier ones. Like covering an old painting with something new, better.” She’d smiled, reaching to pat his cheek. “Past hurts so easily become the gateway to future pain. If there is a way to leave them behind... try.”

It was easy to say. Not so easy to do. But... perhaps it could be worth it, he thought. Salem was certainly worth the effort of an attempt, at least once. The more he thought about it, the more he became determined to stare those memories in the face as he blatantly replaced them; it seemed a fitting end to them. Perhaps it was then pure spite motivating him... but he was more than willing to take it.

So Zevran helped the others out, and when the holiday at last arrived, his contribution was simple but noticeable - aside from the 10-course meal, he’d told them all to bring masks of their own making. He made two; one for himself, and one for Salem. His, he kept simple, just a black mask with a little beak, asymmetrical in design, a black plume rippling from the same side as his tattoo. 

For Salem, something stranger, macabre. A deer’s skull he found in the wilds, cleaned to perfection, iron melted into the cracks and polished, the inside hollowed enough to sit comfortably on a sultry, scarred face.

The grin that split Salem’s lips when he saw it made the whole endeavor immediately worth it. 

The night was one of revelry, fresh wine, lively music, hearty food, and even better company - so similar but so different from the Satinalias past that Zevran remembered. He had a few moments where something would strike deep and give him pause, leave him needing to recollect himself for but a moment. But each time, he found his dear Warden in the small crowd, met his eyes through the skull’s sockets, and Salem would beckon with a hand. It was enough.

After they all trailed home for the night, drunk and in very high spirits, Leliana told them not to wait for her. Salem didn’t question it; Zevran caught her glance and silently thanked her for the night to themselves. He’d repay her later.

Later, lying thoroughly exhausted against his Warden’s pale chest, he felt Salem’s voice vibrate against his ear. “It wasn’t too much, I hope... tonight.”

“Too much?”

“The reminders.”

“Oh... no. It... well, it was a little much. But nothing I cannot deal with.”

“Zev.”

“Yes, my love?”

A kiss graced his hair. “Don’t pretend. Not for me.”

He shifted, folded his arms under his chin so he could look up at Salem’s face from his belly. “Okay, okay. Maybe there were a few moments when I wanted nothing more than to leave that hall. But... I do not want to give those old memories the satisfaction of ruining my fun any longer. My present is not my past - thanks to you.”

Salem laughed, and Zevran swallowed down the flock of butterflies that swarmed his stomach. “Well, who could resist this charm?” Slender hand caressed his cheek, the side without the tattoo, and Zevran’s eyes fluttered shut. “Truly, though... I am sorry I asked so much. I was just-”

“Curious.” At last, Zevran smiled. Not smugly, but warmly. “I know. I think... we both know so little of life outside the ones we escaped. It is good to ask questions. To learn of all the wonders we were once deprived... at the same time, doing our best to honor the little joys that kept us from drowning before. So that they may add to the joys we get to share now.”

“The joys, huh? Well... Just so you know, there is no joy from distant lands that will ever mean more to me than... you. Your happiness. If I can help put your darkest moments to rest, I will do everything in my power.” Salem smiled back, those crooked lips so very gentled off the battlefield, behind closed doors. “And I don’t mean to brag, but... we both know that’s a lot of power. So really, those bad dreams should be running scared. They don’t stand a chance.”

Ah. There it was. In that moment, Zevran forgot Antiva entirely, and thought only of how he would remember this Satinalia for that smile alone.

#dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #zevran arainai #the warden #zevwarden #zevran x warden #zevran x salem #zevran x salem x leliana #poly!warden #salem surana #a little hurt/comfort #a lot of introspection #i like to think zev has his thoughtful moments #especially when he gets into his own head about something #like his feelings toward the warden #zevwarden week 2022 #my writing

[https-heizou]

i like to sit and think about qianzhi’s first time seeing dan heng il… ugh. i will write it soon

#so angst coded and yet #a little hurt/comfort #https-heizou

[gojos-thot-patrol]

No one really loves the way that Sukuna does. For Sukuna to even consider the possibility of caring for someone, he has to already be drowning in love for them. A captain who went down with the ship without ever realizing it was sinking. Loving for you sneaks up on him and catches him off gaurd. If he had realized what was happening sooner- he would have gotten rid of you. But, it's far too late for that now.

Sukunas love is tinged with hate. He'll never forgive you for burdening him with this weakness. He knows how love can decimate someone, he's seen entire empires ruined by it. Its probably the one thing that truly terrifies him, and why for as much as he needs you- he'll always resent you at least a little bit.

As you lay in his arms, snuggled into the warm safety of his chest, he considers snapping your neck. It's delicate, and frail. He knows it wouldn't take anything form him. It would be as simple as lifting a remove to turn on the TV.

But unlike when he thinks about the death of the rest of humanity, when he thinks of yours his stomach turns. He gets seasick on dry land, and can feel an ever soft tremble in his fingers. His spinal column turns to ice and suddenly he's pulling you closer, despite wanting to be so far away.

He can't get rid of you. You're apart of him now, as indispensable as his eyes or his voice. He can't imagine a world without you. He won't imagine a world without you. So he makes sure you're safe, keeping you in the most secure parts of the temple if not directly by his side. He doesn't trust anyone else with you, and as such your room is only known to only the most nessicary personal. And even that feels like too many people.

You haunt him. A poltergeist in the graveyard of his mind that never let's him rest. No body thinks of you even half as much as Sukuna does- no the gaurds, not your family wondering where you vanished to, you don't even give yourself a fraction of the thought Sukuna has dedicated to you. Even the joy of battle has turned into 'what's the fastest way I can finish this and get home to them?' And he hates it. He hates it so much.

He comes home furious at you for having so fundamentally changing who he is. For taking this once fearsome warlord- a lion on the battle field and domesticating him into a fucking house cat. For wrecking him in such a beautiful and sweet way he didn't even notice his ruin until it was too late. He wants your blood.

And then he sees you. Looking up at him with sweet, gentle eyes, glittering with excitement at his return. No one has ever smiled at him like that. No one has ever gotten up to greet him like that. Or hugged him like that. Or treated him with a hand so loving.

And he just melts again, knowing in his heart he could never hurt you. You're apart of him, it would just hurt him too. Claws once aching for your ruin gently wrap around you, pulling your body closer to his, and whispers about how he's happy to be home.

To be back by your side.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna hurt/comfort #hope yall like my little warm up lol

[shrimperini]

everyone at aperture always treats wheatley pretty badly, he’s used to being called a moron and other belittling names due to his general incompetence. of course he would grow attached to the one person who is willing to spend time with him and actually treat him decently lol

chell is very much a lone wolf. she is introverted and avoids most people in the facility, and at first she would ignore wheatley’s ramblings and maybe even think he’s slightly annoying. but overtime they became eachother’s friendly face in a place full of unpleasant coworkers. they also see eachother quite often because he helps oversee test subjects like her. and eventually she truly warms up to him, despite still maintaining her usual stoic demeanor, she starts smiling at him more often.

anyway he develops the fattest crush on her. who wouldn’t. WHO WOULDN’T

#my art #portal 2 #human wheatley #chelley #portal chell #chell x wheatley #wheatley #chell #if i were a writer id cook the most self indulgent 700k words slow burn hurt/comfort chelley fic #but alas silly little comics like these is what im able to do atm #portal human au

[pixiefeatherkw3]

Marunouchi No Sonic 【丸の内 のソニック】 x Oshi no Ko 【推しの子】

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #au #rock band au #marunouchi no sonic #comic page #oshi no ko reference #Yes #THAT Oshi no ko scene #he is not dying tho #don't worry #he is just tired and raising a little brother at 20 yrs old #does this count as hurt/comfort if sonic is finally opening up about his burnout? I think it does #re-posted #old drawing re-maded

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up! #little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

[chuluoyi]

ive got an idea where theres like a school dance and you and satoru go together and you two are slow dancing together until pregnancy nausea gets to you and you get extremely dizzy and almost pass out cause you didnt wanna ruin the moment. AND SATORUS SO WORRIED AAHAHDH i love this idea

it’s during a gala in honor of students’ graduation. you don’t want to miss it because you want to congratulate hakari and kirara in person, so you didn’t tell your husband that you have thrown up 3x prior going together to the venue.

and you really shouldn’t have because halfway through the event, you don’t feel too well anymore.

“you look pale,” satoru whispers in your ear worriedly as you slow dance together. “do you want to rest a bit?”

“no,” you insist. “i’m fine—”

but the second you said that, your vision blurs and you miss a step. and you would really fall if not for satoru’s arms holding you tightly.

“hey—” he looks down at you, discovers your labored breathing and clicks his tongue. “you’re not.”

no one probably notices it, as satoru somehow turns it into a part of the dance step before he sweeps you off your feet. everyone who sees immediately claps their hands and whistles, and he flashes them all a thin smile before whisking you to the infirmary.

“why didn’t you tell me?” he asks as soon as he lay you on the bed, his piercing blue eyes assessing you. “queasy? have you taken your anti-sickness pill?”

oh. you shake your head, feeling guilty for forgetting it. but you’re surprised when he procures it from his pocket, realizing it. he brings your medication around in case it’s necessary.

he gets you a glass of water and ushers you to down the pill. afterwards, you lay back on the bed and close your eyes, willing the vertigo away.

“you big dummy… you should’ve told me.” satoru strokes your head with a frown. “you can’t wait until you pass out. do you like making me worry?”

“no… i don’t mean to…”

“there are two of you now.” he places an hand on your belly. your bump isn’t visible yet, but it’s really there and he can feel it. he can feel his worry rising again. “what if something happens to you if you don’t tell me anything? how do you think it’ll make me feel?”

you reach out for his hand and squeeze it. “sorry…”

satoru’s heart melts seeing you so vulnerable like this. and he decides you have gotten his point now, so he sighs and presses a kiss on your forehead.

“hmph. forgiven. let’s go back home now. i’ll take care of my two babies.”

#you all sure love making him so worried🥺 #pls make do with this little hurt/comfort before an actual long fic🤭 #—chu’s mailbox 📬 #—headcanons☁️ #𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

[myosotisa]

Eddie walks in on you crying and he is immediately dropping to his knees.

Maybe you'd try to hide it. You don't like to show intense emotion like that, especially not in front of other people. Maybe it's been building for a long time and you just break without warning.

You're sitting at your desk with your face tucked into your shirt, tears streaming, hiccuping gasps, mouth contorted in a silent sob. Willing it to stop, to get back in control, for the sorrow to remove it's claws from your chest and let you breathe again.

Eddie edges the door open with his foot, about to bust in and shower you with affection, but the moment he sees you, hears your small cries, everything stops. He's across the room and to your side in 3 long-legged steps, dropping to his knees with his hands hovering, torn between wanting to grab you and tuck you into him and wanting to respect any space you need.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" His concern just makes you cry harder, hiding further into the neck of your shirt, back bending as you try to curl in on yourself. Eddie's heart breaks, his hands curling into tight fists as he battles his own indecision on what to do. "Baby, please talk to me. Can I hold you? Please."

Despite everything in your brain just wanting to be alone, to suffer in silence, to not show this side of yourself -- your heart wins out. You drop the curtain of cotton hiding your ruddy and wet face from him and reach out like a child. It makes you feel like one. But Eddie doesn't hesitate. He drags you out of your chair and onto the floor with him, tucking as much of yourself into him as he can. Arms wrapped around, thighs under yours, shaggy hair making a new curtain to protect your vulnerability from anyone other than him.

He covers you with warmth and care like a fiberglass blanket over a fracturing fire and it breaks you to pieces. Sorrow for yourself, for how you're feeling, for how hard it is to accept this comfort, for how much it means to you to finally have it now. For how willingly and readily Eddie was prepared to give it.

He holds you as you cry, whispering sweet things into your hairline like, "It's gonna be okay, baby, I've got you. I'm here." Rubs your back in little circles, presses his fingertips tighter when you cry out louder as the waves crash over you. He keeps holding you as your crying starts to die down into little sniffles, as your breathing evens out. He doesn't let go until you start to pull away, and even then it's with reluctance.

The moment he can see your face again he's cupping it in his big palms, eyes searching yours to see if he can find what is hurting you, slay the dragon that made you feel this way. When you just shakily smile, sniffling again, he presses a kiss to each cheek, to each eyelid, to the tip of your runny nose, to the center of your forehead. And then he drags you into his arms again.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #myos ideas #did i write this while sobbing alone at my desk? yes i did #did it make me feel better? maybe a little bit #myo4munson

[goldetrash]

Nightmares (LMK Comic/storyboard/fake screenshots?)

Content warning: Blood, character death, sad monkeys

#my art #lego monkie kid #lego macaque #lego sun wukong #six eared macaque #sun wukong #sad monkeys #my little sad monkey king #getting those angst vibes rn :( #shadowpeach #but sad #aw #there's no comfort here #hurt no comfort #angst #character death #a bit of suffering for Wukong #lowkey hoping season 5 addresses these two #but also MK's internal conflict #this show is just a mess of issues #I guess this is what happens when you try to psycho-analyze characters from a 500-year-old Chinese fable. #shiiiiit

[imfinereallyy]

Steve Harrington hadn’t talked to his dad in a year.

The last thing the two of them had talked had been after the earthquakes, across the room in the den; his dad barely stepped through the front entryway, and Steve’s back pressed against the back door. The house was messy but still standing, unlike Steve, who was broken and barely keeping himself upright. The only thing Richard Harrington had said to Steve was,

“I think it’s time to move on.” Which was his way of telling Steve they were selling the house and he should figure out his own arrangements. Steve hadn’t cared, though. Didn’t even look at him as he spoke. Instead, he stared at the cracks in the ceiling and wondered if it was some kind of metaphor.

He tried not to think too deeply about it.

It had been a year since then. There had been time to move on, as his dad said. There was no more Upside Down. There was no more worrying about the next move. Max and Eddie were healed. Everyone was back in Hawkins. Robin and Steve lived in a little house on Fifth while Robin took community courses. Eddie practically lived there, too, with the strange friendship bond that had grown between the three of them.

Eddie had argued once it was because their couch was comfier than his bed, but Steve liked to think it was because Eddie wanted to be close to them. To be close to him. Sometimes Steve thought about letting him stay in his bed together.

Time had not moved to that yet.

Everything seemed good. Despite Steve’s resentment towards Richard, and his reluctance to admit the man was right, sometimes it was good to let things go, break apart and move on. Though Steve was sure, this wasn’t exactly what Harrington Sr. meant.

Steve hadn’t talked to his father in over a year. And he didn’t really miss him. Sure, there were moments that passed when Steve would yearn for the small happy moments between them. Secret smiles at baseball games, lunch at his office, and him cheering Steve on at the one swim championship he managed to show up to.

But it always got mixed in with bigger, badder moments. Being left alone for months on end. The belittling. The missed graduation. The yelling. The slurs when he grew his hair out too long. The cold way he said to Steve,

“I think it’s time to move on.”

Like he had been breaking up with a high school sweetheart before leaving for college.

So Steve didn’t miss the man, not really. But in moments like these, in the back of the Byers-Hopper’s backyard at the Father’s Day BBQ, where all party members and parents alike gathered, Steve couldn’t help but ache.

Steve ached for something better than Richard Harrington.

It wasn’t because of parents who stuck around that made Steve’s stomach churn in jealousy, but the ones who decided to show up. It was the way Wayne threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and the cheers their beers to something probably ridiculous. The way Steve knew that man would crawl to the ends of the earth for someone who wasn’t technically his, but was nothing short of a son.

It was the way El and Hop manned the grill together. Him laughing at something El said, probably something ridiculous, and her smile back that could light up the sun. The way Steve knew that El wasn’t a replacement for the things Hop had lost, but instead an addition to his life he would choose over and over again.

Steve ached to be loved and care for because someone wanted to. Not because of obligation or by accident. Steve wanted to loved deliberately.

Steve sipped his beer instead of bringing down the celebration with his thoughts. Eddie caught Steve’s eye across the yard and gave him a megawatt smile. Steve couldn’t help but smile shyly back.

“Hey, Steve.” A shy voice said beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. Steve turned to find Dustin standing beside him, nearly up to his nose now with his recent growth spurt. Steve couldn’t help but miss when he was small and could throw him over his shoulder.

Steve was a little surprised to find him there. Dustin wasn’t one to speak small or shy. He liked to make his presence known (much like the lovable metal head he was staring down earlier).

“Hey bud, what’s up?”

Dustin looked around the two of them before answering. Everyone else was with their dads, or talking to one of the party members. Even Robin managed to wrangle her dad and Mr. Sinclair into a conversation about WWII. Dustin looked a little relieved everyone was doing their own thing.

“Okay so you know how like, everyone is celebrating their dad today? And mine isn’t here?”

Steve felt his stomach drop. Somehow in the midst of his self-pitying, he had forgotten that Dustin’s dad wasn’t around either. Didn’t even stick around long enough for his first words. “Yea, dude, I’m sorry this must suck for you.”

Dustin looked nervous. He shifted on his feet back and forth, as if he was trying to find a rhythm to calm himself down. “Yea, so that’s what I actually came over to talk to you about.”

“Yea, Dustin. Im here if you need to talk.”

Dustin seemed to finally be at ease and rolled his eyes at Steve. “No, asshole, I don’t need to talk. I haven’t thought about the dick in years, if I’m honest. I just, it’s something else. And you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I’m confused.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Hey!” Steve laughed despite his protest. A year ago, stuff like that hurt Steve’s feelings. But now Steve knew it was all in good fun, that Dustin was kind of dick to everyone. And he knew that the joke wasn’t about his intelligence. It hadn’t been a long time, since Steve threatened to push him out of a moving vehicle last time. Steve was pretty sure it had to do with a particular conversation involving his feelings for more than women.

Only Dustin and Robin knew. She was overly supportive, and Dustin instantly made a joke. Both made Steve supported and safe.

The dumbasses.

“Not my fault this happens to you often.”

“Is there a point being made or are you here to just be a dick?” Steve questioned, laughing behind the lip of his beer.

Dustin fidgeted again before pulling something out his back pocket. “Just—promise not to laugh.”

Steve crossed his heart with a giggle before he took a folded white piece of paper out of Dustin’s hands.

Suddenly, Steve’s face got serious as he saw what was on the front.

A poorly drawn Steve with a nail baseball bat, with the title “Happy Father’s Day”.

Steve swallowed thickly before placing his beer on the ground and opening the card. There in Dustin’s chicken scratch, was a message.

Dear Steve,

Don’t be weird about this. Okay here it goes.

My dad wasn’t around a lot, big whoop. Big surprise. I honestly don’t care anymore. Don’t give me a look.

I honestly didn’t think I would really care about any of the dad stuff, didn’t feel like I was really missing out. My mom and her annoying love for cats has always been more than enough. But as time went by sometimes I thought maybe I would be better, I would be different if I had a dad. I see it with the rest of the party, how willingly or unwillingly they all reflect their dads. And how I don’t.

Sometimes I don’t feel like my whole self because if it. Thought maybe I would never really be a whole me because of it. That maybe the world was better off anyway because I know I am a lot.

But then I met you asshole.

I didn’t think I would like you, and more importantly I didn’t think you would like me. But suddenly we are battling worlds together, and you’re hanging out with me even outside the end of days, and I have a new best friend.

If I’m being honest I do see you more as a brother. Someone I look up to. But the more I think about it (again don’t be weird), I do see you as a dad some days. Although the hands on hips do scream mother hen, you’ve been a dad to me in the ways the asswipe who made someone as amazing as me hasn’t been.

You are brave, and funny and despite popular belief you are kind. One of the kindest people I know. You make me feel safe and loved, and give me rides despite me never giving you gas money. Some days I look in the mirror and see parts of you in me, and I feel proud.

Some days I look at you and hope that I can see the braveness and kindness in myself too. I don’t yet, but you make it feel possible.

I don’t need a sperm donor (thank you Robin for that one), I have the world’s okayest dad right here.

Love you brother, friend, dad.

Happy Father’s Day, from your fellow nerd,

Dustin <3

Steve was crying. He knew that. He knew he promised not to make it weird, but Steve couldn’t help it. The little shit got him right in the heart.

He couldn’t be blamed for scooping up Dustin in a hug. “I love you too, Dusty Buns.”

Dustin squeezed Steve tight, “You don’t get to call me that.” He grumbled, but Steve could feel his tshirt getting wet.

“As your father it is my right to get to call you embarrassing nick names.” Steve squeezed Dustin even tighter.

Dustin just laughed and pushed him away jokingly. They both wiped their eyes, but the smiles on their faces remained.

Steve thought about Richard at that moment again, about how he ached for someone to care. And maybe Steve would never get it, but he could be that someone for someone else. He could give that care, Dustin.

The little shit.

“Thank you Dustin.”

Dustin shook his head, his crooked smile remained. “Nah man, thank you.”

They both just stared at each other in comfortable silence before they were interrupted by a barking force.

“What are you two saps talking about?” Eddie slung his arms around the both of them, mouth spread wide in a grin. But then he noticed the tear tracks, and suddenly his face dropped.

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Steve shook his head fondly, “Nothing—“ He started, preparing to wave it off. But then Steve realized he couldn’t lie to Eddie. “—nothing bad. Happy tears. I promise.”

Eddie looked at Steve for a moment before nodding, giving his face a tight squeeze, and then dropping his hands. “Okay, Stevie, as long as their happy tears.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Dusting grumbled.

“Aweee Dusty, I could never forget you!!” Eddie threw himself at Dustin in a horrible attempt at a hug.

Dustin just pushed him off before rolling his eyes. Steve swore they were gonna get stuck one day.

“Whatever, man. Just make sure that you treat my dad right, or I’m going to have to make some tough calls.” Dustin stared down Eddie seriously before laughing evilly and walking away.

Steve wanted to freeze at Dustin’s implication, but Eddie looked adorably confused, so Steve didn’t feel too bad.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this new? Him just getting protective about this without explaining?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve looked down at the card again wistfully, before glancing back up at Eddie. Steve took one of Eddie’s hands and started to play with his rings. A blush bloomed across Eddie’s cheeks; Steve wanted to kiss him. Instead, he just said,

“Just think he’s trying to be a little like his dad.”

***

Dad’s are complicated, and family isn’t always blood. I hope you enjoyed my little Father’s Day contribution. I do headcannon Hopper as Steve’s father figure/replacement, and usually write it that way but this seemed like a fun opportunity to show how Steve is his own father figure for others.

He is a good egg.

Now with Father’s Day over, my birthday is in two weeks which is making me feel all sorts of things. So I’m distracting myself with steddie. Either way expect a lot of writing and updates soon.

#Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson friendship #steddie #just boys and gals and their replacement fathers #they all deserve a little love and a little reminder of it #give Steve Harrington the support from the party he deserves! #Steve Harrington #dustin henderson #eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #happy fathers day #stranger things #my writing #hurt/comfort #but mostly comfort #long fic #ficlet #the party

[gardenofnoah]

cw: implied sexual trauma, panic attack, intimacy struggles

You don’t notice it happening until it’s buzzing under your skin. Loud and unavoidable, the only thing you can pay attention to is the irregular flutter of your heart and the way it seems that all the air has been vacuumed from the room—

“Hey.”

You blink, and Katsuki is no longer above you. He’s not touching you at all—you turn your head to find him next to you, propped up on an elbow and only worried.

“Too much?”

The panic flares at the question, because what if this is the last time? What if he’s tired of this?

Your exhale is shaky—your laugh is forced and sounds out of place. “No, it was fine, I just—“

“Oi—“ he says, gently, “tell me the truth.”

The truth burns your eyes and keeps them on the ceiling, away from his. You nod, helpless and resigned to whatever comes next.

“What’s goin’ on in your head?”

You feel the tears spill over before you can catch them. You swipe them away with the back of your wrist. It’s still numb. “I’m just sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

He grunts a little in acknowledgment—a displeased, ugly sound—and then there’s movement that finally draws your eyes to him. You watch him cover himself with your duvet—all the way up to his chin.

“S’it okay if I hold you?”

He reaches for you and you let him pull you in. His hands stay above your shoulders and pointedly avoid your neck—cradling your head, letting you hide in the curve of his throat. His pulse is steady and constant against your forehead—or you imagine it would be, if it wasn’t muted by the fabric.

“Nothin’ is ruined,” he murmurs against your hairline, “s’my job to keep you safe.”

Your chest shudders against the cushion of the blanket and you feel a little guilty about crying all over it but Katsuki keeps you there, tethered to him. The ringing in your ears subsides, just a little. Just enough to hear the panic in your own voice.

“I promise I want it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m sorry—“

“Hey, hey,” he shushes you, careful not to tighten his arms around your shoulders. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. S’too much today—that’s all.”

It’s quiet, then, save for your sniffling. He keeps his mouth pressed to your hair, and his arms wrapped around you. There is a noticeable absence of his fingertips tracing along your skin—you don’t feel them there at all, and it’s on purpose. He’s considerate and it makes you anxious.

“Can hear you thinkin’.”

“I just—“ you inhale, trying to be brave, “I don’t want you to leave. I know I can’t—give you this—“

“Oi,” he gruffs, a little sharply, “I don’t give a shit about that. M’not a barbarian.”

You feel the expansion of his lungs as he draws in a slow exhale, and lets it out against the crown of your head. “Don’t think so little of me,” he murmurs, tone laced with hurt.

“You’re right,” you whisper, because he is, “I love you.”

“Love you.” He kisses it into your skin, soft and barely there. “Always will.”

#i have beat this horse to hell but I really do love writing about struggles with intimacy #because ~i~ struggle with intimacy and I write for me ya know #but idk i think it would be hard for him!! he just wants to care for me and keep me safe and i have a tendency to self sabatoge. #if you can believe that. #he just wants to help and he knows that what happened before him is not his fault of course. but it upsets him when I project onto him #which is like. a very human thing? #i have been thinking about that post from the other day a lot about believing the people that love you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou hurt comfort #bakugou comfort #bakugou fic #mha fic #bkg it’s the little things

[jasmines-library]

Hiii!! Firstly, I love your writing and I hope you’re having a great day!! I was hoping to request a Winchester sibling fic where the reader is really comforted by physical touch but is really observant and receptive to the fact their brothers are emotionally constipated and touch starved so the reader has never really asked for it but then one day either just a bad day or bad hunt and the reader just asks the boys to hold them or one of them to sit in the back of the Impala with them? Thank you so so much and I hope you have a lovely day!! 🫶

So close, yet too far.

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Summary: You just really need a hug.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Touch Starved, character death mentioned, swearing

p.s. Sorry for the long wait! I've got exams at the moment so they're taking up a lot of my time.

⛧ SPN MASTERLIST ⛧

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Life as a hunter was never still. You were constantly moving. Constantly looking over your shoulder. Constantly chasing what could be your last day on earth. And you wouldn’t ever have said you regretted it. No. In fact, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Hunting creatures and saving the world? It was all You couldn’t have imagined a better life…

But sometimes you found yourself wanting life to just slow down for a minute. It was so hectic and you just needed a breath. A hug. With such a busy life, there was no time for just spending quality time with your brothers. Or anyone for that matter. It was an endless cycle: Wake up. Research. Hunt. Drive. Sleep. There was no time for sitting on the couch and watching cheesy movies together. Nor was there any time for curling up together like you used to do when you were smaller. You found yourself yearning for it. For a hug or simply just a gentle arm around your shoulder. It used to bring you so much comfort. But times were tough with all that had happened recently. The three of you were even more on edge than ever before. 

Your brothers had always told you that you could ask them for anything. That you could tell them whatever you wanted… but this wasn’t just something you could ask them for. You had seen how they often shunned away from touch. From relationships. Having seen so much pain and having lost so many people…they struggled to allow themselves to let their guard down enough to enjoy a tender moment. Even with you. So no matter how much you yearned for it you could never bring yourself to push the want from your mind and into words. 

So when the hunt went worse than you could have imagined you kept quiet. 

Dean’s hand was right there; peeking out from the hem of his flannel. His fingers were bloody and calloused, scarred and covered in small cuts and yet his touch was still tender. You felt your own fingers itch to reach out and lace them between his. You wanted for him or Sam to wrap you up in their arms and hold you close. To squeeze your hand. Or a shoulder. But you knew that they had much more pressing matters to deal with that overshadowed “needy little sister”. 

You trailed behind them, dragging your feet ever so slightly to kick up the dirt and leave trails between the orange leaves. You did not look up at your brothers because you knew you would see Dean's set jaw and Sam’s pinched eyebrows as they too mourned the hunt. 

A small boy had been caught by a shtriga. He had been no older than 5 or 6 with these big, blue eyes that got impossibly wider as the creature stalked toward him. And his scream…it pierced through the air like a beam of light: clear as day yet providing no clarity. No safety like light should bring. Instead it was cold and filled with a gripping terror. 

The three of you had been too slow. No matter how hard you dragged your stubborn limbs you couldn’t get to him fast enough. So now you trudged along in silence. 

The sight of Baby did not, in fact, provide you with the relief you thought it would. Instead the gleaming of the bonnet against the moonlight just made your stomach churn. You knew that you would all try to bury the memory in a box, deep in the back of your mind. But it was never that easy. They tried hard, but you would hear them late at night. Dean hardly slept as he tried to drink his troubles away and Sam barely left his room. And then there was you who lay awake staring blankly at the ceiling as you wept softly, wrapping your arms around yourself to curl up in a ball. It didn’t bring the same comfort as theirs did, like it had done when you were small and naive when you crawled into their bed after a nightmare. When things weren’t so fucking complicated. 

Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as you reached for the metal handle. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in silence to be left with your own thoughts. You couldn’t be alone. Not right now. 

“Sammy…”  Your voice was quiet. Hushed. Barely a whisper pushed out on cracked lips that trembled. 

Sam paused, his hand halfway between where he had been picking at the hem of his jeans and the handle of the passenger door. He lifted his head, humming softly in acknowledgement. 

“Sit with me… Please.”

“Of course.” His face melted and he moved in one swift movement. 

He slid in the backseat, leaning against the door frame and stretching out across the seats. He pulled you in to lean against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side. And began to weep. 

“Kiddo?” Sam asked gently. “What’s up?” His hands traced small circles on your arm.

Dean reached over the back of the seat with a concerned look, though part of it could be easily mistaken for fear. “It’s not your fault, Sweetheart-” He started.

“Just…hold me. Please.” You clung onto Sam, your other hand reaching out to settle atop of Dean’s. Their touch was comforting, yet you couldn’t help the wavering as you wept. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

And so they did. Sam nestled you further into his side, tucking your head beneath his chin and Dean clambered out of his seat to join the two of you in the back. He settled down on your other side, sandwiching you between the two of you. And they held you. They ran their fingers through your hair, held your hand and spoke to you. They held you tight and the three of you stayed close together, with no intention of moving any time soon.

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SPN TAGS:

@defonotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@inlovewhithafairytale

@harleycao

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#supernatural x reader #supernatural #spn x reader #spn x sister reader #supernatural x sister reader #supernatural x little sister reader #supernatural fanfiction #hurt/comfort #touch starved #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x sister reader #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x sister reader

[anannua]

escort quest unlocked (escort bby to daycare, very serious stuff)

#comic #kakashi #naruto #minato #kushina #ANBU kakashi #little kakashi #baby naruto #MinaKushi #everyone lives AU #sunshine family #everything is lovely #nothing hurts #comfort #fluff #my art #gen #found family vibes #found family