Hi! I Was Wondering If You Could Do Poly!marauders With A Clumsy S/o? Thank You!

Hi! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders with a clumsy s/o? Thank you!

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“I’m going to purchase one of those leashes for unruly toddlers,” James says, thick lashes nearly touching as he squints down at your hand. “And I’m going to keep it around my wrist at all times.” 

“It won’t be as good at catching me as you are,” you point out. You do your best not to wince as he picks a piece of gravel out of your palm, but his eyes flick up to you anyway, an apology in them. 

“No, but at least I’ll be able to keep you close.” 

You laugh a little. “I trip whether you’re nearby or not.” 

“Beg to differ.” He sounds bitter, but James has always had a terrible poker face and the uptilt of his lips betrays him. He spreads ointment over the cuts on your hand before bandaging it. “If I was with you, this would’ve never happened. Guaranteed.” 

“Yes, it’s all your fault.” Remus comes in from the kitchen, maneuvering carefully so as not to get the hot mug he’s carrying anywhere near James. He sets it next to your thigh on the bathroom counter. “Jamie,” his tone is chiding, a bit tired, “why have you started with her hands? She’s bleeding down to her ankles.” 

“It’s nearly dried anyway,” you say, looking down at your shredded knees. Remus feels too bad for you to give you one of his worse reprimanding looks, but his eyes convey tremendous exasperation nonetheless. 

“Because I knew she’d need her hands to hold her tea,” James replies, bumping Remus’ hip lightly with his. “Ease up, I’ve got it. Did you make yourself some tea too?” 

Remus glances towards the kitchen the way an old captain might gaze at the sea. “I thought about it…” 

“Do that,” James says. He finishes up with your other hand, bandaging it carefully. “Actually, would you mind just putting a kettle on? I’ll have a cup, and Sirius might want one too.” 

You frown at that, but neither of your boyfriends see, Remus going into the kitchen with renewed purpose and James smiling slightly to himself as he finishes wrapping your hand. 

“One of these days,” he whispers, backing up a bit so he can work on your knees, “you’re going to have to sit on the couch and feed Remus chocolates for all you put his heart through. We’ll be lucky if the next time you fall he doesn’t have an attack.” 

“What’s Sirius coming here for?” you ask. 

“Well, he does live here.” 

You give him a look, but he doesn’t glance up from cleaning the blood off your shin. “He’s supposed to be shopping with Marlene.” Accusation and betrayal lines your words. “You texted him?” 

James looks up at you now, sympathetic if not quite sorry. “You know I had to. He would’ve murdered me if he’d come home and seen you all bandaged up and nobody had told him.” 

“You could take him,” you grumble. 

He laughs. “I don’t know, sweetheart. He fights dirty.” 

You laugh too, though it’s more a humorous huff. “He can’t come home every time I trip,” you say, twisting the string of your tea bag around your index finger. “It’s not like I need to go to the hospital.” 

James works a larger piece of gravel out of your knee, eyebrows knit together by compassion. “He worries,” he says simply. “He wants to come home every time you hurt yourself, though if you recall, I didn’t tell anyone about you banging your head on the microwave door yesterday, or about when you fell on the stairs last week.” He looks up, grinning when you shrink, abashed. “But when you fall this bad, it’s a bit harder to hide. Sorry, lovie.” 

It’s a double apology, for ratting you out and for the sting of the ointment he smears over your knee. You hiss through your teeth. “Fair enough,” you say. James smooths a large band-aid over the series of shallow cuts, kissing the skin just above it for good measure. “I just don’t like to worry him. Any of you, if I can help it.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t think you can,” he says. You get what he means. Remus is a worrier, Sirius even more so, protective by nature and nurture. And each of your boyfriends cares about you too much to ignore how often you hurt yourself, even if you really think they should be desensitized to it and annoyed with you by now. “But I’m trying to get you cleaned up before he sees you, so hopefully that’ll help.” 

Like James has just issued a summons, the rumble of Sirius’ bike comes from outside. James grimaces as it slows to a stop. 

“I hate that fucking thing,” Remus growls from the kitchen. 

James shoots a sad smile in that direction. You think that you might not single-handedly cause Remus’ heart attack if Sirius gets there first. 

“Where is she?” Sirius calls as soon as he comes in the door. “I assume there’s a blood trail for me to follow?” 

James chuckles. “I told you it wasn’t that grim,” he shouts down the hall, and a second later there are heavy footsteps coming toward you. You brace yourself. 

“Fucking hell.” He halts just in the threshold of the bathroom, then seems to change his mind, striding over to you. His eyes are glued to the bloody mess of your uncovered knee. “Darling, what did you do?” 

You knew what to expect from him, and still your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to. “I missed the curb going out to get the mail,” you say. 

Sirius’ eyes lift to yours, widening. “You fell into the road?” You nod. “You could’ve been hit by a car!”

“There weren’t any cars.” There are almost never any cars on your street, and he knows that. 

“You’re lucky there weren’t,” he says anyway, holding his hand out. You place one of yours in it obediently, palm up. There’s a bit of blood marring the beige bandage, and Sirius makes a terribly soft pitying sound. “Your poor, lovely hands.” He runs a careful finger over the covering. “How bad was it?” he asks James.

“I told you, not horrific,” James says, finishing with getting the debris out of your knee and twisting the cap off the ointment. He looks up to be sure you’re ready before he starts smoothing it on.

“Stitches?” 

“Oh, tons. She’s held together more by thread than skin at this point.” 

You roll your eyes, but Sirius coos, “My poor sweetheart,” and grabs hold of your face to plant a kiss on your lips. You must look as pleasantly surprised as you feel, because he does it again, bending forward to avoid bumping his hip into your knee. 

His thumb sweeps across your cheek as he pulls away, brows furrowed. “Does it hurt?” he asks, and now the mirth has disappeared from his tone. You don’t know how Sirius does that, going from teasing to not in a blink. 

“Not so badly,” you tell him. 

He hums, stroking your face again. “Would you tell me if it did?” 

You feel your lips twitch, and Sirius’ eyes narrow like he knows your answer before you’ve spoken. “Probably not,” you admit, “but it really doesn’t.” 

He stares you down for a minute, murky eyes scanning yours for traces of untruth, his dark brows lowered. You reach up to slot a piece of hair behind his ear, and he cracks, mouth kicking up at the corner. 

“Alright, drink your tea before it gets cold.” 

“I’ve actually made tea for everyone,” Remus calls, not from the kitchen this time but from the living room. “And snacks, so please come eat them.” 

James grins, touch moving up the back of your knee to your thigh as he stands. “Excellent,” he says eagerly. “You’re all fixed up, m’love. Let’s go take care of Rem now.” 

You start to hop down from the counter, but Sirius says, “Wait, wait!” and grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place. “Can you walk?” 

You nod, because duh, your legs are scraped, not broken, but Sirius looks to James, the both of them frowning thoughtfully. 

“Best not to risk reopening them,” James decides, scooping you up off the counter. 

You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Thank you,” you say, rather than this is deeply unnecessary and you’re being ridiculous. James seems to hear both anyway, planting a sloppy, smiley kiss on your cheek. Sirius, satisfied, follows you down the hall. “I didn’t mean to make you my manservant, I swear.” 

“Happy to do it,” he says. “Now drink your tea, it’ll make Rem feel better.”

Daryl’s feet felt heavy on the stairs and across the porch. You heard his boot steps inside and were immediately up, rushing toward the front door. A heavy sigh escaped the archer as he reached for the doorknob. He was weary. It had been an entirely crappy could of days. They’d barely been able to find any useful supplies on the scavenge trip.

Before his fingers could even touch the brass of the knob, it pulled inward and you were standing there with tousled hair and a grin on your face that seemed brimming with sunlight. His eyes drifted over you. You were wearing your favorite pair of socks, surprisingly soft wool ones that were clearly too big and folded and bunched around your calves. You were wearing one of his sweaters, also far too large. The hem was brushing your bare thighs.

“Hi,” you greeted him, still beaming.

Some of the pain in his shoulders and back seemed to diminish just at the sight of you. “Hey,” he drawled, stepping in toward you across the threshold. He tugged the door gently from your hand and shut it behind him and that’s when you barreled into him, your body flush against his, your arms wrapping around him tightly. You ear came to his chest and you closed your eyes as you listed to the steady whoosh of his heart. Daryl let out a low chuckle, some of the fatigue falling from him now too. His arms hugged you back tightly.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed.

“Missed ya too,” he murmured, tucking a kiss into your hair. “Can’t imagine I smell too good…” he murmured.

“Shut up,” you retorted, pulling back. “I don’t even care.”

Daryl let his pack and his crossbow slip from his shoulder and hardly had any notice before you looped your arms around his neck and jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. You tucked your face in against his neck and breathed in his smell. Musky. Wood smoke. Leather. Autumn air. Grass after a rainstorm.

Daryl had to shift to regain his balance and laughed as he brought his arms up to loop around to support you. “Christ, woman… Can’t even hardly let me get in the damn door,” he said.

“Nope. I can’t.” You pulled back to look into his blue eyes and brushed some of his wavy hair out of his face. “I missed you.”

Daryl smiled. This is what he fought for. This is what he did everything for… He hugged you more tightly and carried you straight toward the bed you shared.

Prompt: “Sometimes you have to go home to remind yourself what you’re fighting for.”

Hey gorg!! Was hoping you’d see this and do a vamp!eddie or regular eddie trying to give golden retriever!gf hickey/kisses but she starts and won’t stop giggling and like lowkey ruins the mood. I feel like Eddie would try to be upset but just start laughing with her! 💕

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

cw suggestive themes mdni

It's a salacious sound. His silent bedroom broken up by the echo of his kissing, your breath catching as Eddie pulls your head to one side and tracks messy kisses up the curve of your neck. 

Your skin is warm under his colder mouth, colder hands, his fingers rubbing down your stomach to stop at the buckle of your belt where you lay in the middle of his bed.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders. Whenever you enter into intimacy like this, you have a need to be close. Eddie's happy to oblige you, resting his full weight on your side as he parts his lips against your pulse. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie pushes his hand under your shirt to feel your naked hip, thumb rubbing over soft tummy. "I love you, too," he says into your neck. He punctuates with a bruising kiss, the kind that has you tensing up, your arms holding him close even as you squirm away.

"Too much?" he asks.

"It's tickling me," you say. 

"It is?" 

Your shirt pulls up with his hand. Sure enough, your stomach shakes with a laugh when he talks, the vibrations of his words moving through his lips and into the delicate skin of your jaw. 

He smiles at the sound of your giggling, but he has other things on his mind. "Tell me if it gets uncomfortable," he murmurs, diving in for another attempt at hickeying. He starts with a soft kiss (he's a gentleman), lips parting as he warms the mark with the tip of his tongue. Then comes teeth, his canines pressing especially hard as Eddie starts to suck. 

You make a noise that's half sigh, half laugh. "You're tickling me," you insist, sounding like this is all you could hope for and more as Eddie's fingers brush up your torso. 

He'd been hoping to move aside your bra, but the sound you make at his trailing fingertips is gold. He figures he could be annoyed —this is the pinnacle of romance, or it should be, these soft touches and slow kisses, Eddie's been trying to hint at sex all night— but he doesn't have it in him. He wants you, yeah, but he wants you. Your laugh is just as much fun for him as your moans, though they're often giggly, too. 

"Am I?" he asks, squeezing your side. 

You laugh and hug him, forcing his face away from your neck. He admits a momentary defeat, focusing instead on giving you the hug of your life, arms needling behind your back as he rubs his nose into your cheek. 

"You're a hard girl to seduce," he complains without any real frustration. 

"You seduced me, like, half an hour ago," you assure him happily. 

"Oh, good." He digs an elbow into the pillows to look down at you, your hairline damp with evidence of your confession, sweating from the heat of being touched and teased. Your eyes are half-lidded despite your laughter. "Worried my game was off." 

"Your game is always on." You brush his hair behind his ears for him, lifting your chin ever so slightly.

"Can I try again?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you say, tone imbued with a number of emotions. The most important has him reaching for your belt buckle, undoing the clasp as he buries his face in your neck once again. 

You're laughing again before he's had chance to pull the belt free. 

"Sorry!" you apologise as he pulls away, meeting his fond eye roll with a grin. "Let me kiss you, okay? That way it can't tickle." 

Eddie lays flat eagerly. You kiss him as he'd kissed you though your dotting of half-moons is interspersed with giggles, until you find the soft spot that makes Eddie groan. You're much more dedicated to the cause after that. 

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 ♡

this is so beautiful<33!!

hi i love your work and was wondering if you could write drew starkey x fem reader based off the lines “she hates compliments. — i do. — we’re working on that.” from your most recent drew work??

i feel like it’d be super cute to see how drew helps the reader feels more comfortable receiving compliments and affection plus how he’d react to her telling him how she isn’t used to it/isn’t incredibly comfortable

Actions speak louder than words

Drew starkey x reader

Masterlist

A/n: if you guys feel like this one is personal, it’s probably bc it is. I’ve been waiting MONTHS to write this one. The quotes on the request are from this fic and also, writing this made me realize that my writing is more poetic when I’m in my bed for some strange reason and I didn’t know where I was going with the f*ing analogy at the end, I still don’t know if it makes any sense.

“I also remember that the smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to my throat, whether it was directed at me or at someone else”

Bernhard Schlink, The Reader

Word count: 1.9k

So subtle it hurts.

“Like this?” you asked him as you positioned yourself in front of the golf ball. It happened a few days before your official first date and you were hanging out with the cast at an indoor golf place but you decided to step away to spend some time alone.

“Yeah that’s it. Make sure you keep your hands there before you swing” he instructed.

And after some teaching from him, you hit the ball and it actually went far. You both celebrated.

“Good job! I knew you could do it”

You didn’t really know why but your heart dropped to your stomach and your smile faced and as always, he noticed the slightest change in you.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly “Did you hurt yourself?”

You blinked “No, no I just– it’s nothing”

He approached you slowly without any sudden movements, making sure that you knew he wasn’t planning on hurting you in any way and took the golf club from your hands “Hey–” he spoke softly “What’s wrong, beautiful? It’s not nothing, talk to me”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Can we just go back to the others?” you asked with teary eyes as you tried to avoid his gaze.

“Yeah we can but just know, whenever you need me–whatever it is, just say the word” he assured, earning a soft nod from you. “Can I hug you?”

You nodded again and melted in his arms. There weren’t many people you let get that close but you allowed him and you were glad you did.

Confessions.

You sat at a small table while you spoke about what either of you expected in a relationship and as Madelyn had reminded you, you needed to be honest with him.

“Do you–” you paused, taking a deep breath and preparing to maintain eye contact “Do you remember what happened the other day when we were playing golf? When it was just us”

He nodded “Did i do something wrong? Maybe i touched you in some way you didn’t like–”

“No it wasn’t anything you did, you’re beyond respectful” you assured “It was something you said that i don’t hear often”

“What do you mean?”

You cussed under your breath, worry began slipping into your system “I don’t want this to change the way you see me or think of me”

He shook his head “Y/n, you don’t have to worry about any of that”

“No, I do. Because I really like you and I want this to work…” he nodded for you to continue “You said ‘good job’ and it just felt like the ice under my feet cracked making me fall into freezing cold water and i don’t want it to feel that way forever”

“Did you feel that way when i said that you looked beautiful when i came to pick you up?”

“I did and that reaction just hurts more when it comes from you. It should feel good, I know it should because I feel guilty when it doesn’t. So I understand if you don’t want any of this. You don’t have to fix what you didn’t break” you admitted painfully, your eyes still on his.

He rested his hand on the table, palm upwards for you to take if you wanted to do so, you did. His thumb caressed your skin lightly as his touch made your breathing hitch and your heart speed up. “Neither do you. You shouldn’t do it alone either way.

Heart to heart.

It started with little things, the common things. He brought flowers every time you went on a date, even just a single rose which never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Drew always walked you to your apartment after every date or outing with friends. You’d step in and he’d lean on the doorway just to admire you for a few more minutes. You soon discovered that his gaze calmed you yet intrigued you beyond understanding, always afraid that he’d see something in you that he shouldn’t have seen and that he’d just never come back to finish what he started.

“I always wonder what crosses your mind when you look at me”

He smiled “Do you want to know?”

Your breathing staggered as the truth commonly felt like a newly sharpened knife, the kind used in five star restaurants to craft meals that never failed to amaze, except for you, there was never a meal after or a sharp kitchen utensil that to you was dull, one that you would attempt to let mark you, over and over again until you looked in the mirror and saw it too.

“I don’t know if I'm strong enough” you whispered.

He nodded in understanding yet spoke anyway “I wonder how someone could hurt someone so beautiful and full of love”

You shook your head with a tight smile that soon turned into a frown “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore”

“It does when it took so much violence to become that gentle. It’s not fair to you to feel unlovable when you have so much love to give; such beauty and tenderness should be adored, worshiped even”

Actions.

The truth. His truth and only his, felt like a promise, the one present you ask for when you’re little thinking that you won’t get but you do. And there it was years later, beautifully wrapped with a note and a bow, the same kind of present you received on the birthday party he organized for you with your closest friends. He wiped your tears with his thumb lightly.

“They are happy tears” you assured while your voice shook.

“Yeah? Are you okay?”

“I will be” you admitted and for the first time, you actually believed those words.

Little by little you became more comfortable with touch, touch you began to realize how much you craved and how little it burned. It didn’t really matter where you were, it never did and when you moved in together he made sure you knew that things wouldn’t change, that you didn’t escape a burning house to break into another that would only burn you farther.

You had been living together for months and his creativity still surprised you.

You woke up to an empty bed and some noise in the kitchen. You got up and entered the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. When you lifted your eyes, they landed on your reflection and you noticed a little post-it stuck on the mirror. It read ‘Good morning, gorgeous. You stole my shirt again but I'd be lying if I said I didn't buy it solely because I knew you’d wear it’ and you smiled, the way you did everyday since you met him. Those were the little things you cherished, the ones you kept in a shoe box under your bed as if they were some precious stone kept in a museum. A box full of other notes, little trinkets he gave you because they made him think of you, polaroid pictures and letters, oh the letters he wrote.

On the days he knew you’d check the letterbox, he’d write a letter and leave it there for you. You’d read it on the way up to your apartment smiling to yourself or he’d simply hide them around the house for you to find. Under your pillow, as a bookmark in a book he saw you read, in drawers he knew you’d open…It didn’t matter if he was at home with you or away but when he was, he’d read them out loud for you. Distance wasn’t stopping that man in any way because his actions and intentions would turn the world upside down just to find you, it wasn’t only texts, no. It was reminders, voicemails and even made up events in your calendar.

“Event: ‘I love you’

Notes: I will put the world at your feet. I will love you as long as i love -Drew”

Shared playlists’ names weren’t just names, they were messages making sure that you heard how much he appreciated your existence just like the song titles weren’t just titles anymore, nor were the lyrics when he’d approach you with the brightest eyes you’d ever seen “This song made me think of you”

Nothing he did was meaningless and love didn’t hurt anymore:

Healing.

You’d enter the kitchen soon after, often trying to disguise your smile too. Sometimes you’d feel ashamed when such words would make you feel lightheaded and sensitive, so you hid it as best as you could but somethings just have too great of an impact to simply put away, to ignore. He sure couldn’t and neither could you, not when his words and actions made you self aware of the existence of your pumping heart.

“Good morning” he’d greet while he flipped the pancakes.

“Good morning, you woke up early” you’d note, somewhat insinuating that you had seen his little morning craft. He’d smile, so brightly that you’d assume the existence of a second sun.

“You know that only takes me a few seconds but i’m glad it made you smile”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you’d joke, flustered. He’d chuckle and lean over the kitchen bar to peck your lips. If you avoided the subject, he’d let it be and if not, he’d continue praising you, he too, acknowledging the existence of a second burning star in the morning sky at the sight of your smile.

“I didn’t wake up that early…I had a dream about you so i slept a little longer”

You’d hide your face with your hands and groan “How do you come up with all these compliments?!”

He’d chuckle “You really have no idea what a charming memory you are to me”

And when it came to admitting the love you had for the other, his words were never the usual three. They were intense, meaningful and direct. They had such a way of cutting through your being with the utmost tenderness to reach your soul yet they weakened your knees as if you had walked to every corner on earth just to find that kind of love.

“I love you” you whispered as you both laid in bed. You had said it before or at least tried to, each time far too afraid that those words would be the fuel he’d use to leave in his car.

He turned to you “I loved you then, i love you now and i'm certain i’ll love you forever. Y/n, there is never a moment in which i do not adore you”

Believing that compliments are just adjectives might be a mistake many make. They open a dictionary, pick the words that sound best and keep them close to spread like a variety of wildflower seeds, all to bloom so colorful and different. They appear in a small patch in different places except sometimes they don’t, people who walk that path, see that one precious flower and pick it over and over again until it refuses to grow. And then if you don’t spread those seeds, no flowers will grow at all. Why can’t they be like the sun or maybe the rain, they should come as events that happen regularly and impact someone's day, they should drench them with care and tint them with love. They aren’t just words, they shouldn’t be.

of driving and daydreams - s.h

summary - in which steve loves singing his heart out and dreaming of the future with his sweetheart beside him

warnings - mentions of food, kissing and general relationship touching

word count - 0.9k

author's note - This is loosely inspired by a wonderful thought by an anon which you can find here! I just loved the idea of singing in the car with stevie! Used a semi-accurate time period song!

Steve loved driving with you. Whether it was a quick trip dropping you off to a coffee shop on his way to work or a long drive to the beach on a hot summer’s day, Steve loved his time behind the wheel with you at his side.

With one hand on the wheel, the other rests on the bare skin of your thigh, thumb rubbing soft swoops into the warm flesh below the denim of your shorts. The sun is beaming through the window, encasing you both in an amber glow, the chocolate in Steve's eyes turning to honey through the haze. You’re off to have a late afternoon picnic, summer sun still glowing brightly despite the passing hours.

You’d spent the morning in his kitchen, cutting fruit whilst Steve prepared some sandwiches, strawberry stained lips creating sugar-sweet kisses in between tasks. A gingham blanket and a picnic basket sit comfortably in the back-seat, your sandals thrown haphazardly amongst them, knowing you'll want to run barefoot in the grass the moment you get there.

Steve hums along to some song on the radio, sunglasses perched on his nose, freckles kissing the skin in a constellation brought out by time spent lounging in the sun. His hair flaps in the wind, strands swirling in their wake thanks to the rolled down windows. Tanned arm stretched towards the wheel, muscles flexing with each slight shift. Your boyfriend is handsome to begin with, but god does he look pretty in summer, it's like he’s the sun incarnate, glowing with something you wish you could bottle up for when you were apart.

You lean forward, sunglasses slipping from your hair to rest across your eyes, and fiddle with the radio stations, hoping for something summery to come on. Steve eyes you through his peripheral vision, a smile tugging at his lips as he watches your nose scrunch in concentration, the task of finding a perfect song clearly being a serious one. He knows you'll get bored halfway through and want to change it like you always do, eager to hear the next song, but he finds your determination adorable every time.

‘Head Over Heels’, blasts through speakers of the car and he squeezes your thigh softly in protest, announcing, ‘I love this song honey, keep it on,’ another squeeze to emphasise his point. The opening beats begin and he taps his hand atop the steering wheel, head bobbing along, hair flopping with each movement. Your mouth pulls into an amused smile, his actions endearing. He starts singing the lyrics, softly at first, absentmindedly mumbling along. He can feel your gaze upon his face, cheeks warming at the thought of you watching him. He never thought he'd find someone so enamoured with him that his singing would be a spectacle you’d want to witness, and yet here you were, soaking up every word that fell from his lips, just like your skin with the sun's rays through the car's windows.

As the song builds to the chorus he starts to make eye contact with you, head tilted towards yours as he directs the words to you. His voice gets louder, filled with joy and enthusiasm, and whilst some words come off pitchy, you don’t think you've ever heard a more beautiful song, his happiness infectious.

His hand lifts from your thigh to make an imaginary microphone, and he throws his head back in an act of passion as he sings the chorus. ‘Something happens and I’m head over heels,’ flies from his lips, eyes locking with yours, nodding dramatically as he sings much too loud for the small space - you couldn't care less, his voice blanketing you in something you can only describe as glee - at the love you feel for him and his own joy.

As the song continues, and he tries to practice road safety alongside his antics, he puts on a silly voice, trying to mimic the artist and make you laugh. Giggles fall from your lips at his charm, and he thinks they must be the prettiest song he’s ever heard, he nearly turns the song off just to hear them clearer.

As the song nears it’s close, he flings his hand in front of yours, microphone at the ready, and stares you down with the cheesiest grin and you find your own pulling wider. He shakes his hand in prompt, even smushing it softly into the warm skin of your cheek, and through a fit of giggles you join him in bringing the song to a close. You probably look like the dorkiest people in the world, heads tilted towards one another, saccharine smiles on your faces as you belt the lyrics together, but you couldn't care less - the only person who matters most sitting beside you.

When the song ends and fades into another Steve watches you, slightly breathless with a grin still pulling at your lips, fixing the sunglasses atop your head, and he feels like his heart could burst at the sight. He realises that he could spend forever doing this with you, enjoying the simple bliss of shared songs and laughter.

As he continues the drive to the field, the both of you indulging in your karaoke session further, he daydreams of summer days to come. His hand returns to your thigh with a squeeze you know is a silent, ‘I love you,’, you saying your own with a kiss to his bicep. He knows he’s head over heels for you, and he can't wait to fall further.