Desperately Need James Or Remus To Make All My Decisions For Me. I Dont Want To Think At ALL

Desperately need James or Remus to make all my decisions for me. I don’t want to think at ALL😭

Remus has your hand in his as he leads you towards the bookstore.

You’d been anticipating a new read for the last couple of weeks and wanted to see if the bookstores finally got it.

“Do you think they’ll have it Remmy? I really don’t want to get it online.”

You swing your interlocked fingers, walking in step with your boyfriend as the October winds whip past you both.

It’s not biting cold, no sting in the wind yet but it’s cold enough to chill you.

“They’ll have it dove.” You don’t know that Remus had called ahead and had made sure they had the book and another you’d been looking forward too as well.

You’re still swinging your hands when Remus stops in the road, your body stilling a second later.

“Why’d we stop?” You ask, face a little red from the cold as you look up at him.

“Light’s red, dovey.” Your eyes follow the finger pointing to the stop sign and you nod.

“Didn’t notice.” You shrug, your hand moving from his palm to his bicep while you wait.

You don’t see it, but Remus beams when you tuck your face into his arm. It was a throwaway comment to you, but to Remus it means that you have full trust in him, in what you’re doing together and he can’t help but feel his heart speed up because of it.

╰┈➤ soft touches in the morning

warnings: just fluff.

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a muffled groan from beneath the covers met her ears, prompting her eyes to widen in excitement as she quickly turned over, pulling the blanket back. “rafe?” she squeaked, relief washing over her as the seeming forever-lasting boredom was finally over. y/n was an early bird, yet didn’t like getting out of bed without him, so her only choice was to wait patiently until he opened his eyes.

yawning, he lifted his head from the pillow slightly, taking in the ear to ear grin on her face, covered slightly by the tangles of her hair. “hi baby..” he cooed tiredly, squinting as the glaring sun attacked his eyes. “c’mere..” he rasped, snaking his arms around her waist before pulling her weight on top of him. “rafe..we have to get up..” she whined, huffing as her actions contradicted her words. shuffling down, she rested her head in the crook of his neck while her nails drew patterns on his chest.

“mm..stay like this for a bit…yeah?” he breathed, allowing his eyes to flutter shut again as his hand moved to her hair, massaging her scalp gently.

“you’re so cute” she sighed, giggling to herself as she looked up at him. cocking a brew, he re-opened an eye to glare at her. “cute? i’m not cute” he huffed, pouting his bottom lip out.

“what are you then?” she laughed, stroking the pad of her thumb along his jawline. “me? i’m manly” he chuckled, puffing his chest out as his grip on her waist tightened, his fingers playing with the waistband of her sleep shorts— his boxers. “sure you are..”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he yelped quietly, craning his neck to face her as his mouth fell agape, feigning hurt. “i mean, you’re a big baby” she teased.

before she had time to react, his grip tightened and he flipped the two of them, suddenly pinning her beneath him. “that right, sweetheart?” he grinned, mischief dripping from his words as she struggled against his weight.

he chuckled as she tried and failed multiple times to escape, but to no avail. “you give up?” he suggested, prompting an answer as he pressed numerous wet kisses to her forehead. “never!” she laughed, attempting to fool him for a second as she went limp, before quickly springing into action, trying to pull her knees up against her chest. “c’mon baby, just tap out— you know you want to..” he snickered, staring down at her expectantly.

“fine!— get off me, jerk” she huffed, grateful for the sudden distance as her lungs suddenly had more space for air. “don’t be such a sore loser, it’s not a good look” he smirked, pushing off from the bed before moving to the doorway.

“oh, you are such an asshole rafe cameron!” she seethed, swatting his chest as followed behind him hurriedly— soon stomping passed him.

“an asshole that you love, right angel?” rafe chuckled, quickly swiping at her legs, eliciting a squeal as he lifted her into the air, carrying her down the stairs.

“maybe if you make me pancakes i will..” she suggested, turning to smile at him sweetly as he simply laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “yeah, okay..”

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lovelovelove!!!!!!!!!

ahh i want to give spencer a million kisses!! like just hold his face and kiss him awwhhh! he deserved so much love <3

you don’t have to write anything on this if you don’t want ofc!!

Ugh, he deserves all the kisses in the world!! Also, I apologize for taking so long to answer this. I know you said I didn't have to write anything, but I just couldn't resist <33 wc: 612

---

“You okay?”

You blink up at him from where you’re tucked into his side, suddenly aware that you’re staring. Your cheeks warm, “Hm?”

His brows crease. You watch his gaze flit over your face briefly before he asks again, “Are you okay?” “‘Course, why?” The corners of his mouth quirk up in a knowing sort of way that makes it hard to fight off your own smile, “You’ve been staring at me.” You blow a sheepish puff of laughter out your nose. He lifts his arm from your shoulders to let you shift onto your knees, his hands finding your hips as you toss a bare leg over to bracket his lap between them. Thumbs sneak up the hems of your sleep shorts and find the divot where your thighs meet your pelvis, massaging a line into the flesh there.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you take a second to really look at him. The shape of his lips, the curve of his jaw. How he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes full of nothing but love. You trail the tip of your middle finger down the bridge of his nose and they close. His lashes kiss the perpetual dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s so unfair.” 

His eyes open and his mouth pouts in that subtle way it does on the rare occasion he’s confused, “What’s unfair?” “How pretty you are all the time.” His cheeks pink. You grin at your victory, “I mean seriously, how are the rest of us supposed to compete when you look like this all the time.”

His throat bobs a little as he fights off a smile, “Not– Not all the time.” You gawk at him dramatically and he snorts.

“Yes, all the time.” He simpers and looks away, shy under your praise. You dip your head to catch his gaze, unrelenting, “Of all people, I think I’ve stared at you long enough to know.”

He makes a little half-hearted sound of protest as he drops his head into the crook of your neck and you chuckle, “What, you don’t believe me?”

He doesn’t reply, only noses at the curve of your jaw. You take that as his answer and decide you won’t have it, “I can be very convincing, you know.”

“Mm-hm?”

Before he has any time to react, you start peppering small pecks over the side of his face. Quick, sweet things that have him laughing and scrunching his ear to his shoulder when you trail them down his neck. He pulls his face away in an attempt to escape your attack but only makes it easier for you to hold his face in place to kiss just about every inch of it.

He yelps your name, cheeks dimpled and burning red. Your own smile makes it hard to keep kissing him. You’re undeterred.

“Baby–,” He tries. Your lips find his forehead, “Y/n!”

He catches your face between his palms, cheeks smushed between as he pushes you back to look at you. His eyes are wide. His smile incredulous, reeling from the sudden onslaught of affection.

“You believe me now?” You grin after he’s deemed you trustworthy enough to return his hands to your waist. “Yes!” He nods, eyes creased with his laughter, “Yes, I believe you.”

“Told you.” You beam, cradling his face in your hands as you lean forward to kiss him as best you can when you’re both smiling so wide. You pull back to sing-song, “Very convincing.” “Mm-hm.” He hums and laughs again, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours when his smile grows too wide to keep kissing you, “Very convincing.”

You Know Me

Daryl reassures you that nothing ever happened between him and Leah.

content warning: 18+ for mature themes and suggestive material, insecurity, reader character asking if Daryl cheated (he would never), hurt/comfort, reader and Daryl are married, lots of pet names and domestic bliss, some praise at the end, very anti Leah Shaw.

"Daryl, when you were out there looking for Rick-"

You've had this conversation many times over the past few years, but for a while you had forgotten all about it. You were happy with him, your husband, the man who you knew would give everything to keep you safe. You two had gone through so much together from the very beginning, and after the Whisperers were gone you thought it would be a good time to settle down with Daryl and focus on building a family. Everything was okay- until she showed up.

You knew what Leah had done to him, how she tortured him for information. He wouldn't tell you everything, but when he came back from that place, from the Reapers, he was different. He was hurting.

"It was her," he had told you as soon as you were in his arms again. "It was Leah."

You didn't speak the rest of the night, you just listened.

Now, a few months later, it's on your mind again. You hate that it is, you know your husband is busy with work and he doesn't need to hear about your insecurities. You know you should be focused on settling into your new home, building a new life here in the Commonwealth- yet you can't help but think back on unresolved conversations from the past.

Judith and RJ are with Carol for the night, and you've made dinner with whatever you could afford at one of the little grocery stores in town- it was so surreal having this domestic bliss with Daryl, it would be a shame to ruin it by rehashing old haunts. You can't help it, you've tried for so long to keep your questions to yourself but they keep piling up. You just want peace.

He's exhausted when he comes home, you can tell by the way he groans when he pulls off each piece of that ridiculous suit armor. All you want is to take care of him, to give him a warm meal and take him to bed to relieve his stress, but you have to have that talk first. If you don't do it now, you know you'll just keep putting it off.

"Hey, sunshine." His voice is so soft and full of so much love. You can hear how bad he just wants to love on you, and the way he looks at you makes your heart clench.

"Hey, handsome. How was it today? Mercer go easy on you this time?"

He scoffs and you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face. He doesn't need to say more, you've become a master at reading his nonverbal cues. By the look he gives you, you know he's had a long day.

"Hey, Dar'?"

"Yes, my love?"

He gets up from where he was sitting to unlace his boots, dropping them by the door so he can wrap his arms around your waist. He looks hungry, and not for the lasagna you have cooking in the oven. You want to give into his desires, you want nothing more than to have him take out his frustrations of the day on you, but you'd be thinking of her the entire time.

"I need to ask you something."

"Okay, babygirl, ask me somethin'." His head dips to the curve of your neck and his mouth latches onto your skin, his hands rubbing up and down your sides and your back. You don't want to ruin this moment, he seems so content just standing here with you. "Go ahead, 'fore I throw ya over my shoulder and take ya to bed."

"Daryl, stop." You push him away and all the joy from his face disappears. It makes you feel sick. "It's serious."

He nods, his hands resting on your hips, unmoving. His entire demeanor shifts. "Okay, sweetheart, I've got all night. Do you want to sit?"

"Yeah," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He takes your hands, noting that they're shaking, and pulls you into the small livingroom so the two of you can do this sitting on the couch. He's incredibly attentive, and you can tell he's running through every possible scenario in his mind. You can tell that he doesn't know what he did wrong and he's scared you're leaving him.

"What's goin' on? Talk to me. I'm right here, you can ask me anythin'." It takes you a moment, and as much as he wants to be patient with you, he can't take the silence. "Sweetheart, I'm real worried right now, please talk to me."

"Daryl, when you were out there looking for Rick," you can't even look at his face, "and you met that woman in the woods. Leah. What happened between you two?"

A deep sigh deflates his lungs, his hands curling around yours. He understands your question, you asked him this many times during the first few years after he came back home. He had been patient with you every time, and he always will be.

"You know me, you know I didn't do anythin' that would hurt ya." He knows you can't bring yourself to look at him, but he needs you to. He reaches up to take your chin in his hand, gently turning your face towards him. "Sweetheart, ya know me."

"Then tell me everything, please? The truth, the full truth."

Your voice sounds so desperate and he hates that he's made you feel this way. He hates that you're scared and it's his fault. He's supposed to protect you from this.

His eyes never leave yours, and you watch as they well with tears. "I missed you, when I was out there. I missed ya so bad, honey," his own voice breaks but he keeps going. "I met her and I thought she would be a good ally to have. Someone to trade with, someone to... talk to."

"Talk to?" You pull your hands from his, turning your face away.

"Talk to," he repeats. "Just talk. Not the way I know you're thinkin' right now, so stop thinkin' it." He ducks his head down, trying so hard to meet your gaze. "Stop thinkin' it."

"I can't. I think about it all the time."

"How often do ya waste your time thinkin' bout that woman? She's not worth all that, she ain't. She was an awful person. She tried to hurt our family." He takes your face in his hands again, needing you to really hear him. "She tried to hurt me."

"You were out there with her for so long," you protest, tears threatening to spill. "I waited for you, I was alone and you were with her."

"Not like that. Nothin' ever happened. I told ya about her as soon as Carol brought you out there to visit me. I never kept her from ya, I've never kept anythin' away from ya unless it was to keep ya alive." He sounds so desperate for you to believe him, to trust him again. "You gotta know that."

"But you always went back to her and you never came home-"

Admitting that out loud is your last straw. You break down, sobbing openly in front of him. He hasn't seen you cry like this for a while, and never because of him. He pulls you against his chest without a second thought, wrapping his strong arms around you tight.

You believe him, but a part of you is still terrified that he's keeping something from you. You can't shake that feeling, even as he takes your face in both of his hands and stares down into your eyes. "The truth, Daryl. Please, baby?"

"It wasn't like that at all, honey. I shared shelter with her, never even slept in the same room. I promise." He feels so guilty even though he knows for a fact he never did anything unfaithful, he never even considered it for a moment. "I wanted to come home to you so bad, I thought about you all the time- every night. I only stayed with her 'cause she was out there where I was lookin' for Rick.

"Sweetheart, 'm real sorry I kept that from ya, but ya gotta know it was never like that for me. I never once thought of her like that, never. I was never attracted to her neither, so don't even ask that." He tilts your chin up, smiling. "You're the only one I got eyes for, and that hasn't changed the entire time I've known ya."

"I left when I realized she had the wrong idea 'bout me. That's the part I never told ya, that I turned tail and ran the moment I realized she had feelin's for me. I didn't want you to ever think, even for a second, that I returned those feelings, 'cause I didn't. The most I ever felt was guilty for leavin' her there on her own, that's why I went back to look for her. I felt responsible, and I wondered what would've happened if I hadn't left like that. I thought somethin' awful happened to her, I thought it was my fault."

It hurts to know he had kept that from you, but you understand why. You understand that he wanted to avoid this exact conversation.

You reach out for him, placing your shaking hands on his chest, and you can feel his taut muscles relax under your palms. You can feel the relief your touch brings him.

"When she took me hostage," he continues, placing one large hand over the two of your small ones, keeping them pressed firmly to his chest. "I played her so I could keep our family safe. That's all that happened."

"Did you-"

"No." He knows what you were going to ask. "Even when I was undercover and tryin' to stay on her good side, I never touched her. Not at all. Never even thought 'bout it, honey."

"Would you have, if you had to? If rejecting her would've blown your cover?"

His hand curls around yours, squeezing reassuringly. "Never. Keepin' our family safe is important to me, but when I married ya-" His voice cracks, tears now freely spilling down his sunkissed face. "I made a vow, an' I don't break my vows. Not when it's you. I'd rather die than betray you, and I'd choose you over everyone else, every time. You know that, right?"

You nod slowly, scrambling to pull yourself onto his lap, needing to be closer.

"Good girl," he sighs into your hair, his voice a low growl as his large hands help position you on his lap. "Good girl. Now, I never want you to think about that woman again, okay? Can ya do that for me? Can ya forget her? She doesn't matter, she never did. I never felt anythin' for her and nothin' ever happened between us. The best thing that ever came of that situation was Dog, you love Dog."

When you don't respond, he runs his fingers through your hair and whispers against your ear, "can ya at least try? Can ya do that for me, sweetheart? Just try."

You press yourself closer to his warm body, hiding your face in his neck so he doesn't see the way he makes you so bashful. "Okay, I'll try to forget. I'll really, really try."

"That's my girl."

"I'm so sorry for this, Daryl," you whisper, shame and guilt starting to set in.

"Don't you dare apologize, sweetheart. I'll have none of that. If it made you feel better, I'm happy we had this talk."

You pull back just enough to look at him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace. "Thank you."

He smiles at you, bouncing you in his lap to let you know he wants to get up. "I smelled lasagna when I came home, and I'd really like to feed you while we lay in bed completely naked. That sound like a good night?"

"Hell yeah it does."

He stands with you still wrapped around him, holding your thighs to support your weight as he carries you across the room towards the kitchen.

"You're the only woman I'd ever want to do that with, sunshine."

"I'm flattered, big guy."

I love it

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

loveee this

𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

eddie fights to get his usually shy and moderately intoxicated girlfriend to bed when you insist on clinging to him at every turn. requested here. fem!reader, 2.5k.

cw intoxicated reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're holding onto Eddie's arm tight enough to leave little fingerprint bruises behind. He doesn't think he'd mind, and he doesn't try to slacken your grip as he helps you up the stairs into the trailer. 

"Do we have to be quiet?" you whisper. Or, attempt to whisper. 

"Nah, Wayne's working." He closes the door behind you and leans over your shoulder to put his car keys in the bowl on the sideboard. "Oh, hey." 

You've given up on clinging to his arm and have started cuddling his waist instead. Eddie feels his eyes go wide, peering down at you almost like he's worried you'll realise you're being bold and move away. You rub your cheek against his leather jacket and sigh. "I love your hugs," you say dreamily, words slurred but understandable.

This isn't news to him, but it's definitely nothing you've said aloud before. Eddie's your boyfriend, he knows you enjoy a warm hug, but he's your new-ish boyfriend, and you're one of the shyest people he's ever met. Half the time he kisses you and your cheeks catch fire. 

"Yeah?" he asks fondly. 

You break the hug quicker than he'd like and bend at the waist. Laughing unsurely, you attempt to untie your shoelaces, wobbling like a cardboard house in a hurricane. Eddie catches onto your shoulders to hold you up, but you can't last. 

You make a strange sound, indignation and admission at once, and put your hands behind you to sit down. You go down hard enough to make the kitchenette shake, trailer walls not especially durable. 

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you. 

You blink at him glassily. "Will you take my shoes off, please?" 

"Yeah," he says. He laughs and tries not to. "Yeah, I'll take your shoes off for you. Pass em over." 

You put one of your feet on top of his knees clumsily. Eddie unties the bunny knots you'd made earlier, neat and tidy, not wanting anyone to judge you for messy laces, you'd said. 

He slides your shoes off and gives your toes a squeeze. Sober you would blow a gasket, shuffling away from him with a flustered squeak, but drunk you must like it. You leave your foot on his thigh and offer him the other shoe. 

"Do you like my socks?" 

Eddie digs his nail into the second bunny knot. "I love them. Why, are they new?" 

Your socks are normal white crew socks with a black hem stripe, black toes, and black heels. You hum at his observation appreciatively, your hand straying to your stomach. "And my underwear, too." 

"How much did you have to drink while I was in the bathroom?" he asks. Eddie's seen you in your underwear, but it's still unlike you to allude to your skivvies while fully dressed. 

"Not much. Why?" 

"It's not like you to talk about underwear," he tells you, sliding off your shoe and giving your foot a squeeze just as he had the first time, thumb digging into the sole. 

You giggle and yank your legs up and away from him. "That tickles." 

"Sorry, sweetheart." 

"It's okay. I forgive you, duh." 

He laughs, thrilled to see you this adorable and this beamingly happy. He can make you smile like no one else, and of course you're not always shy when you're with him, but it takes time. Eddie wouldn't change you for anything, it's just a real nice thing to see you so proudly happy. 

And hopelessly drunk. You lay on the floor of your side for a moment, jeans riding up your calves as you curl in on yourself, your jacket falling off your shoulder. 

Eddie crawls to your side. He indulges himself, sliding his hand between your cheek and the floor to lift your head. You meet his eyes dozily, sparks of happiness to be seen in your dilated pupils and the apples of your cheeks as you smile at him. 

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks. 

"You–" you begin, not sure where you're ending, "I missed you." 

"You missed me?" You're loaded. "Don't worry about missing me, sweetheart, I'm right here. Can I ask you for something?" 

You nod hurriedly. "Of course you can," you breathe. 

"Will you help me get to bed?" 

You reach for his elbow, your hand coasting up the length of his arm to his shoulder. "Stay here," you say. You're pleading with him, eyebrows drawing together, fingers screwing up in the folds of his jacket. 

"You'll be comfier on my lumpy mattress than you are on the floor, trust me." 

"I'm tired," you say. 

"Come to bed with me," he says softly, mirroring your tone. 

"And we'll have a hug?" 

Holy fucking shit, Eddie's fucked. He thinks, I'm gonna marry this girl, cheeks aching with the effort it takes to keep his huge smile at bay as he helps you sit up. 

"I'll give you as many hugs as you want," he says, brokering a deal with you right there on the floor. 

You agree to his terms, holding your hands out to be pulled up. Eddie stands and pulls you, and you do your part, attempting to stand with a wobble as you go, but he's right there to catch you. Thus begins another round of clinging, your fingers braceleting his wrist, your hips on his. 

Eddie leads you down the hallway. It takes longer than it should, what with your face in his neck and your less than subtle sniffing. He smells better than you do, your shirt soaked with what could be craft beer but might just be a half a cup of cider, neither of which he pictures you drinking. 

"Who tipped their drink on?" he asks, pushing the bedroom door open with his elbow. 

"What?" you ask, lifting your head from his neck. He looks down at you briefly. 

"What happened? You have beer all down your shirt, babe. Did someone tip their drink on you?" 

"Robin did, she said to tell you it was Steve." You raise a hand to his cheek. It's cold, and it smells like your moisturiser. "But I don't keep secrets from you." 

He doesn't mean to melt under your touch. He has things he should be doing, depositing you in the bed, changing your shirt, tucking you in for the night with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol for your perusal in the morning, but it's a startling delight to have you stroking his cheek. You usually only do this when he's half asleep or you're very tired; hoping he'll forget, maybe, and forgetting your own inhibitions. 

"You don't?" he asks gently. 

Your fingertips slip from the soft part of his cheek up to his eyelashes. You don't touch them, breathing out the side of your mouth rather than in his face. Drunk but not enough to stop treating him with care. 

"No… except for last Friday when we went to the Hawk. I really did need to use the bathroom." 

Well, Eddie knew that. You're shy, that doesn't make you a good actress. "And now we have no secrets," he says, covering your hand on his cheek. 

Your eyes slip closed a touch. Eddie doesn't really believe himself, he's sure there's lots of stuff you don't tell him. He guesses when you need something to drink because you hate asking, and he can't work out whether you like hotdogs or if you're just humouring him when he makes them, but he thinks any secret worth having is one you've let him in on. 

He puts you on the end of the bed. 

"Can I help you get changed?" he asks, already turning for the wardrobe where he keeps your left behind pyjamas and miscellaneous clothes, washed and pressed and waiting for you the next time you come around. 

"You haven't asked if you can undress me in ages." 

He laughs like an idiot, scooping an oversized t-shirt and a pair of your pyjama pants into his arms. "Now, that's not true. I always ask, but half the time you're already getting there." He turns to you, finds you've disappeared into your shirt, elbow twisted into the bottom and arms slack. "Like that," he laughs. 

"Stuck," you mumble. 

He chucks your pyjamas down and slips his fingers under your shirt where it's folded at the top of your shoulders. "Lift your arms, sweetheart. There you go." 

He laughs again when he sees your rumpled hair and face, dropping your acidic smelling shirt on the floor. "There she is. Hey, gorgeous," Eddie teases, running the side of his hand down your cheek quickly. "Bra on or off?" 

"Can I have my shirt first, please?" you ask.

He loves you. Your shyness creeping back in despite his having seen it all before is endearing, and he wouldn't ever say no to you. "Of course you can. Do you need my help again?" 

"I think this part will be easier." 

You're right about that. You get your shirt on easily enough, unclipping your bra without help. Nor do you need help with your pants. 

Eddie strips off quickly, swapping jeans for plaid pants and his t-shirt for a ribbed undershirt. He stretches out day long aches and kicks aside your dirty clothes on his way to the light switch, flicking it off, only his lamp left on now. 

You look lovely. Makeup smudged, watching him move around his small room with your face propped heavily in your hand, a practically cherubic smile playing on your lips. 

He pulls back the sheets and grabs you by the waist, lifting you very slightly to encourage you up against the pillows. You look at him like he's a wonder, adoration softening each line of your features. Your lips part slightly, your eyebrows rise upward. 

He thinks it might be really special, to be looked at as you look at him. 

"Let me get you a glass of water," he says. 

Neither of you have managed to brush your teeth. Honestly, he doesn't think you can stand up any more to try. Water will have to do. 

"No!" you say, louder than you've likely ever spoken to him when he isn't tickling you. "You said we'd hug." 

"We will," he says, giving your hand a little shake where it clings to his. 

"Please, Eddie, I just want to cuddle with you," you confess, giving him the best case of the puppy dogs he's ever seen. 

Eddie thinks, Whatever, we'll just have to make sure we brush extra hard in the morning. He can't deny you any longer. He didn't stand a chance. 

He climbs over your legs and you tuck him in affectionately, ramming your forehead into his chest and throwing your arm around his waist with less care. You nuzzle in, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as you get comfortable. 

"This is so nice," you praise, words sluggish, slurred even more than they were as fatigue weighs you down. 

"This is perfect," he agrees, easing as flat as he can onto his back, nothing for his arms to do now but wrap around you and hold you close. 

You sigh again. It's even happier than the first, your leg creeping up as you hook your knee over his hip. "I love you, Munson. Thanks for…" You yawn and rub your nose into his chest. "Thank you. I love you." 

"You told me twice," he says, lifting his head to give you a teeny tiny kiss on your temple. 

"It was true for both of the times," you mumble. 

Despite relaxing atop him, your arms are like a vice. He doesn't care, he really couldn't care less, 'cos if you weren't hugging him like this he'd be hugging you tighter. Eddie speaks against your skin tenderly, "I love you, too," he murmurs, sealing it with a punctuating kiss.

He rubs your shoulder, feels your arms give him one final squeeze. 

"Is now a bad time to mention I need the bathroom?" he asks. 

Your answering snore tickles his chest.

—

"Eddie." 

Eddie scrunches his face up. You look down at him, flustered, wondering if it would be better for you to run out on him and never see him again. He groans as he wakes, turning his head and distorting the stain of your lipgloss smudged the length of his neck. 

You nibble the inside of your lip. He doesn't seem particularly annoyed with you. But he is mostly asleep. 

"Eddie, how did we get home last night?" you ask, rubbing between your eyebrows. "You didn't drive, did you?" 

He'd had two beers, which wasn't too much for him to handle but is more than anyone should have if they want to drive themselves home. 

Eddie peels his eyes open. "Steve drove us."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'm super embarrassed. I got kinda wasted, huh?" 

Eddie's hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your soft stomach. He pulls you in an attempt to make you lay down again. 

"You were very drunk," he agrees, yawning into your ribs. 

You put your hand on the other side of his head to hold yourself up. "Was I a handful?" you ask softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles against your shirt. You feel the curve of his lips, goosebumps erupting underneath it. Shy, you gasp quietly and try to escape his hold, but he hugs you ever tighter, snuggling into your chest. 

"You were great. I missed sober you, though." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Drunk you doesn't get goosebumps when I touch her." Smugness colours his voice, his hand rubbing up and down your naked back roughly to chase away your shivers. 

"I wasn't weird, was I?" you worry, more than alarmed by the gap in your memory. 

"You told me all about your new underwear," —you groan— "and how badly you needed to pee at the Hawk." 

You drop your head on to his, your foreheads touching, your hand curling around his neck. "Did I do anything vaguely in the land of acceptable behaviour?" you mumble in defeat.

"You told me you loved me. Multiple times. Once in your sleep." Eddie sounds delighted.

"That's unfontunately true," you grumble, not really meaning it. 

He laughs and gives you a firm tug. "Cuddle with me, babe." 

You cuddle him if only to hide your face from the world, face in his hair, hands under his back. Eddie draws a path of fondness up and down the dip of your back, laughing at each new crop of goosebumps as they rise. He's sweet enough to let you forget the mess you've made for at least a few stolen hours that morning. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed, please reblog if you have the time it makes a huge difference for me ♡