#and you don’t deserve the trauma they will put you through by keeping them in your life

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned masterlist a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Ghost didn’t remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.

He didn’t deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.

He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.

It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.

He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.

It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didn’t deserve that.

He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals — it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didn’t know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.

A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasn’t quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.

Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.

No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something he’d never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.

Living amongst Graves’ crew was worse than living in hell. He would’ve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.

When he saw the way you looked—the darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyes—he saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.

That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.

Now, standing in Price’s quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for you—for putting you in the same position he’d been stuck in for years.

You didn’t deserve that.

Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.

Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.

You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didn’t look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.

Their own worry caused yours as well.

“What is that?” you asked. “The mark of death. I— I don’t know what that is. What does that mean?”

You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.

“It’s complicated,” he explained quietly, hushing you. “That man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. He’s a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe he’s apart of something sinister.”

“What, like he’s sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!” you exclaimed, exasperated.

“We are talkin’ truth,” Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. “He’s that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.”

“But you are not telling me what the mark does,” you cried.

Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didn’t understand.

“I think it’s quite obvious what the markin’ is, dove,” the Captain said solemnly. “It is only by miracle it hasn’t happened to Ghost yet.”

“So I am to die? Is that it?” You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. “I am going to die?”

“No,” Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. “You ain’t dyin’. Not today, not tomorrow. M’not lettin’ it happen.”

“Ghost,” Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.

“I said no,” he repeated resentfully. “Price, show her the map.”

Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didn’t quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.

The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map you’d seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.

“Come, dove,” he called, and you listened.

The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was before—islands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.

“Suppose it’s time you knew, hm?” he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.

Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.

“These islands,” he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, “are all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?”

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

You weren’t sure how it linked to you. You’d never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes, I remember,” you confirmed quietly. “What does it have to do with me?”

“We searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,” he explained. “All of the villages were all succumbin’ to Graves’ mark of death. We think he was attemptin’ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldn’t be able to find their medics. We don’t know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesn’t like it.”

“And how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?” you questioned. “How do you know it relates to me?”

“Ghost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Graves’ ship,” Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. “He was searchin’ for answers even then. This is all he got.”

You couldn’t imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.

Your heart ached.

“And me?”

The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.

“Your village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,” Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. “We knew you were the one we were lookin’ for.”

“My village was not cursed,” you denied, shaking your head. “There is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.”

It clicked in your head how quickly it must’ve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.

It would’ve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.

Your people died to Price’s crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.

“That’s why you did what you did,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “You killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.”

“The curse would’ve taken over the moment you left,” Gaz explained. “You were the shield protectin’ them without even knowin’. You’re meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantin’ you immunity until we found you.”

All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?

You wanted your life back. You didn’t want to be apart of this.

Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didn’t want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.

“Dove?” Gaz called out, concerned.

“I don’t want this,” you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. “You—you knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?”

“We don’t have all of the information yet, dove, please—” Price began, but you shut him down.

“Bullshit!” you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. “You took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?”

“You must understand, you were the only medic left alive,” Price defended. “We had no choice. We did what we had to do.”

“At my expense,” you argued.

“At all of our expense,” he retorted. “I did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simon’s.”

You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. You’d heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.

All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.

“Without you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasn’t killed him due to the thrill of holdin’ his life in his hands. It’s a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruinin’ yours.”

Price’s cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crew’s life, uncaring of yours—in the beginning, at least.

Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.

“I do not wish to be here,” you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. “I need to be alone.”

The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.

“As you wish,” he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.

“Dove,” a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.

It was black. Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.

Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.

Why couldn’t you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.

A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.

All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.

“Dove,” it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove,” it mocked.

Dove. Dove. Dove.

“Dove!”

You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadn’t been breathing.

Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.

Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if he’d shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed that’s what he was doing.

“I kept callin’ ye but ye weren’t wakin’,” he said wearily. “Are y’alright?”

You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gaz’s bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that you’d never seen occupied.

You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dream—no, a nightmare. A terror.

You were safe.

“I don’t know,” you confessed breathily, still catching air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldn’t remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.

“Tell me,” Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. “It’s okay.”

You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and they’d been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.

You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.

“It was that man,” you explained. “Graves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like… like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.”

Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.

Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.

You understood now why Ghost was always a mystery—because he was scared, too. He just hid it better.

“I am scared,” you confessed shakily. “I do not want to die.”

“And ye won’t,” he assured, but you shook your head.

“You do not know that,” you argued. “None of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. It’s not fair.”

Soap’s expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.

“It’s not,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatin’ ye like—like burdening scum, like ye don’t matter. I can’t express to ye how sorry I am for everythin’.”

You didn’t want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.

“I never had a family,” you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. “The village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.”

“Yer not an outcast.”

Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.

“Not anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,” he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.

You couldn’t stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the world’s worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.

It’d been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldn’t fully convince yourself that there wasn’t a part of you, yearning to belong with them.

“You are all very strange,” you retorted lightly. “I have never met such people as you before.”

“Thank ye.”

“It was not a compliment.”

Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. “The Captain is bitin’ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkin’ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves bein’ around again, I don’t blame him.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. “He is worried for me?”

Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. “Ach. ‘Course he is. Cap’s got a good heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I did not realize he cared for me after everything,” you confessed.

Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. “We all do.”

You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didn’t elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you weren’t aware they truly cared.

When Price had told you they’d grown fond of you, you didn’t quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.

You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.

As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.

You didn’t want to let them down.

Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.

“Is he still in there?” you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.

“Aye. He’ll be rottin’ in there before we know it.”

You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. “Would you like to join me, then?”

Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.

“For?” he asked.

“You all need a medic,” you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. “And I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose I’ll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?”

Soap’s smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.

“Sure are, dove. I’ll come with ye.”

The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.

“She wanted to be alone, Soap,” Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.

“It’s alright,” you assured. “I have had time to think.”

Price’s eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. “I see,” he hummed, nodding. “I have as well.”

You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.

Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.

The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.

“I owe you an apology,” Price began. “A true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.”

He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.

“I should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,” he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. “I do not apologize for doin’ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time bein’ here.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume he’d speak with him privately regarding everything.

“I’d like to apologize as well,” you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for—”

“I am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,” you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. “It does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.”

Price didn’t say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.

You didn’t seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.

“I will grant you that,” he agreed in a hum, nodding once. “I do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.”

You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hear—no angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.

“Graves came to me in a dream,” you told him. His expression soured. “I believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, I’d like to be of help.”

Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.

“Soap has not convinced you, yes?” he asked, uncertain. “This is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.”

“It is,” you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. “If I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain that’s how it works. Does it not?”

Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light you’d never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.

“That is how it works with us, dove,” he agreed softly. “Your battles are ours. You can count on it.”

“Wonderful,” you cheered with a smile of your own. “Shall we continue what wasn’t finished before, then?”

Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.

“Come on, dove.”

[emmcfrxst]

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about— the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff | Genshin x GN!Reader What Made Them Fall For You?

Xiao, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Diluc

SUMMARY Headcanons on what makes the genshin pookies fall for you <3

CONTENT Fluff, gender neutral reader, men falling for reader, reader is not traveler but is friends with them, mentions of character's trauma, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES I hope to eventually write about all the men >:) it will probably take a while to get to it but I’ll try to keep each one short to encourage myself to finish them all hehe.

XIAO

I think Xiao would start to fall for you because you see through his tough, mean guy act. You can tell that even though his words are harsh and he’s telling you to leave him alone, he’s just protecting you. You might not see it at first, but as you understand his condition, his karmic debt, you understand him. Your realization makes you feel warm knowing that Xiao is really just an innocent soul who wanted to keep you safe. He wants so badly to never hurt anyone ever again and “repent” in solitude even though he has nothing to really repent for; he was forced to kill by his previous master and his karmic debt only comes from killing the remnants of old gods and absorbing their debt.

You start to hang around him more as a result and, much to Xiao’s dismay, he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he actually enjoys how you reignite the warmth in him, the warmth he hasn’t felt in so long since his fellow Yaksha have passed. But did he want to let you in? Shouldn’t he push you away? He’s been alone for so long, why change that now? He felt like he didn’t deserve to enjoy company again, that he didn’t deserve you and your kindness. But maybe just this time… just once, would he allow it.

WANDERER

I think Wanderer would start to fall for you because you make him feel human emotions like he’s never felt before. He’s always searched for a “heart” in the form of a gnosis, thinking it would make him human and make him feel loved and wanted. But even when he had it, it didn’t feel right. Even now, with his anemo vision, he feels more, but still not what he wants. But with you, it feels perfect. Others would probably describe what he feels as something like “butterflies in my stomach” but since he probably doesn’t really experience physical things like that, being a magical puppet and all, he thinks about how you make his vision glow. When he feels a surge of emotions, it feels like he’s using his vision. It feels powerful, happy, strong, and warm, like how a light breeze feels on a sunny afternoon.

You know about his past, what he did, and how the world wronged him. He’s been so traumatized and can barely comprehend his emotions. So when you reach out to him after he regains his memory and a new anemo vision, you try to help him through his emotions in the gentle way that you do. You’re so soft with him and it makes his vision heart ache. He believes he doesn’t deserve you but you try your best to show him otherwise. As you two get closer, you never really notice, but the wind always picks up just a little bit when he sees you.

DILUC

I think Diluc would start to fall for you because you don’t just see him as “the young and rich son of the Ragnvindr family estate.” You see him for him: Diluc. You see a beautiful soul with a broken heart that has put up walls that he intends to never break down again. Others might think that Diluc is just cold, but you and the others close to him know that no matter how cold he may seem, the pure fire that burns inside him always spreads its warmth to those around him. He’s believed for a while now that barely anyone can see what he’s hiding underneath, that people want him for his money, his property, his material things. But you prove him wrong time and time again. You sweetly say hi to him every time you see him not because you want to put on a facade to get on his good side. You don’t help him break up a fight at the tavern and clean up after because you want a monetary reward. You don’t bake him an adorable strawberry cake for his birthday because you want something back. No, you do it because you care, because you have so much love to give, and Diluc feels so lucky to be a part of your life.

He feels his feelings grow for you as time goes on. He feels you getting closer and he barely hesitates to let you in. You didn’t break down his walls, you politely made a door for yourself to enter and it makes you both laugh to think about it that way. He stays reserved around most others but always holds the door open for you, physically and metaphorically.

|| MASTERLIST �� || Thank you for reading! ||

[stargirl-in-dilfspace]

It Will Come Back - Logan Howlett x f!reader

[a/n: hi!! It’s been a minute but your girl is back with some good ol’ wolvie. another joel fic is in the works, and possible a part two to this one depending on feedback <3 love yall]

Warnings: angst, brief smut (NSFW), cage fighting, alcohol, cigar, mention of cat death :(

Content/themes: angst! cage fighter!logan, bartender!reader, not really an age gap idk I see reader as a full grown established adult, based of the hozier song, reader & lo hookup in this chapter but don’t get together, fear of love, mild smut, big stray cat metaphor, possible mutant!reader, reader has a sexy car so, brief section on their backseat of her car sex, the claws come out (or did they?), idiots who deserve comfort and love and need to recover from years of trauma to love each other because they are meant for each other

Summary: A stray Wolverine finds his way into your bar looking for the cage fights. But you both find something you swore off a long time ago. [1.3k words]

You knew better. You’d known better since you were told at age 7 not to feed the stray because he’d keep coming back. But you never really learned your lesson, since that cat proved to be the sweetest of them all. He’d curl up to you when you left your window open at night, push up against your legs in the backyard when you’d come home from school, hiss at any other person or animal. That’s why they put him down, when the neighborhood decided he was too aggressive.

Love like that wasn’t something you'd ever find again. The unconditional protectiveness you received all from simply feeding a stray with your kindness. And that's how you got him killed.

Never again.

To say your love life was parallel to a nun’s would be an over exaggeration. No man had ever drawn in your love the way a stray could.

The tragedy that is a stray.

Maybe you gravitated to working in this bar because everyone here was a stray. Everyone an orphan, who was someone’s, once. It helped that the cage fights were rather entertaining. Watching grown men lose their shit over losing bets, dealing out drinks left and right, everyone who came through had a level of respect for you, everyone’s favorite bartender.

“What can I get you?” Your voice flowed with the familiar words, watching the new face turn up to make eye contact with you, a cigar hanging from his lips, a good head of hair and a worn face.

“You the lady to talk to about getting in on these fights?” He asked, giving you a questioning eyebrow.

“No, Jimmy takes all the bets around here, pudgy guy, beard, back right.” You pointed past him, to Jimmy. Instead of following your finger, he gently waved his hand, looking back at you.

“No, are you the lady to talk to about fighting?” He rephrased, and you grinned. Fresh meat, right?

“Sure, I need a name.” You replied with the grin still on your lips. He looked fit, you wondered if he’d be getting his shit rocked in the cage within the hour. Or preferably by you, and not in that cage.

“Logan.”

“I need a fighting name. Privacy, and whatever.”

“Wolverine.” He puffed out the cigar’s smoke, a smell that this place already reeked of.

“The Wolverine, that's a new one. Welcome.” You smiled more genuinely, waving over one of the announcers, alerting them to your newest competitor. “Can I get you a drink, while you wait?”

“No, just the fights.” He replied, observing you in a way that made it seem like he was taking all of you in.

“Sure you can take more than one round in the ring?” You tilted your head a bit, observing him in the same way, the tension something burning that you squeezed as you spoke, as if it’d choke him up.

“You’d be surprised.” He cracked a grin, you almost wanted to take that in a different way with the way his eyes lingered on you.

————————————————————

You weren’t exactly surprised that he was a good fighter, but it's been 3 hours of continuous beatings, without a cut or a bruise to show for it, he liked to make eye contact with you, doing some dance on that tightrope you were both walking this evening. You wouldn’t complain about the view, since he started he’d shed the jacket and shirt he’d had on. It helped that he won every fight, with a somewhat practiced ease, which made plenty of viewers upset for the losses of their bets.

As the night winded down, bets closed, drunks left angry or big winners. Some frequent patrons lingered on your stools, or in the seats. You watched Logan return to the same stool as earlier.

“Would our very own Wolverine like a beer?” You offered again, wiping up some spilled beer on your bartop.

“Logan’s fine. And yeah, hun, whatever you’ve got in a bottle.” You were used to terms of endearment used by men for you around here, but nothing like the way it fell off of his lips. It made something burn in your body, a sense of nervousness and excitement, that had you grabbing the first bottle you could for him.

You popped the top, moving it over yout bartop into his hand, and part of you wanted to ask how he was unscathed from all the beatings he’d supposedly taken.

“Anything else, Logan?” You asked, more soft than you intended, taking in his appearance. What was it about this particular stray that you felt needed you? Like the way your neighborhood one had? It felt pathetic, the way you tried to straighten yourself out after the slip of your voice.

“No, darlin’. Unless you’ve got a name for me?” He grinned the same way he had earlier, and you could feel the blush dusting your cheeks.

————————————————————

That’s how you made it to the backseat of your black 67’ Ford Galaxie, being fucked like you don’t think you ever have been. Something about digging your fingernails into his skin, the way you couldn’t even see any indents with how hard you pressed, maybe it was the dark? Your legs wrapped around his hips, secured by one strong arm, the other holding himself up above you, buried in your hair. He didn’t seem the affectionate type, maybe you were wrong.

You were so lost, you couldn’t distinguish the small praises and growls on his breath, even if they met your ears like a goddamn symphony.

Something made you make eye contact with him that night, making what should've been a regular hookup into something much more intimate than it should be.

————————————————————

Maybe he shouldn't have looked into your eyes that night. Maybe he shouldn't have given himself a taste of something he should never have deserved once in his life.

But he did.

And by the time you were asleep on him, maybe he should have woken you up, told you he should go. Maybe he should have denied himself the tug you had on something deep inside him, what could be a tug on the heart he swore he didn't have.

But he didn't.

And in the morning when you said goodbyes, it wasn't nearly as awkward as it should've been, at least to him, he liked watching over you that night. He craved that tugging he felt inside of himself to curl up with you, so close you couldn't ever leave him, so close that he would let nothing hurt you.

After years of losing every person he’d ever loved, some wall stayed built, a locked door that kept him out of the warmth of your embrace.

————————————————————

You figured you wouldn't see him again for a long time, he’d told you he was a wanderer, traveling from place to place, with no home to call his own.

He reminded you of that stray cat, and maybe you should've ran the moment you felt like you needed to give him comfort and the home he deserved. You swore you’d never let someone who needed you die again.

But this was a man, a man whose mind had to be wired differently than a cat’s. But something told you part of it wasn't wired differently, the something that heard to skint of metal in the dark of your backseat when he’d damn near growled and come with you.

If the man wasn’t like your stray, why did he have the claws to prove that he was? You reminded yourself that was your imagination, because just as you turned your head to the sound, the glimmer of metal was a figment of your fucked-out mind, not really slipping back between his knuckles.

Hung up on a hookup? How pathetic. You’d never see this man again, he'd never stumble into your bar again, looking for a fight, and finding you instead.

Finding something neither of you wanted to give a name, yowling at the door you stayed on either side of, pleading to come in.

————————————————————

[a/n: I LOVED writing this!!! PLEASE let me know if you enjoyed, it’s much appreciated PLUS it will help me know if yall want another part to their story <3]

[sluttysnowangel666]

Home Is Where the Heart Is - jace velaryon x reader (request)

summary: in a modern au, jacaerys must return home from studying at uni to help his stepsister care for his younger siblings when their parents and brother die. The step-siblings already complicated relationship grows more and more tense given the circumstances, and they find themselves being each other’s source of comfort in hard times.

cw: stepsiblings, death, angst, grief, emetophobia warning, childhood trauma, modern au, modern!jace, smut, idiots in love, mutual pining, slow burn, talks of abusive/ unhealthy relationships, jealous jace, NO INCEST(except daenyra but like not really bc it’s au) not entirely canon, drinking, use of Y/N

this one was hard to write for me, given i’ve experienced parent loss. i put a lot of emotion and personal experience into this one so pls be gentle with this one if you don’t like it.

I - The Leave

To say you and your step brother had tragic lives was a bit of an understatement.

Jace’s father, Harwin, had died in a fire when he was a young boy. Your mother had died in her birthing chambers having you. The paths your lives had been on as children shifted, leaving your parents to remarry when you and Jace were both only 15.

You initially did not get along. Jace did not like your father Daemon, and you did not like Jace’s mother Rhaenyra.

Over time though, you both acclimated to each other. You grew closer as the years aged you. By the time you both turned 19, you were thick as thieves. You had comforted each other through heartbreaks, similar childhood trauma, navigated what it meant to grow and change as people, and protected each other from the rest of the world.

Jacaerys was your best friend, and you were his. In another universe maybe, you could’ve been more than that. But it seemed in this world you were only meant to remain as blended family.

So when Jacaerys told you he was leaving to go across the country to Uni, your heart nearly split in two.

“What’s in Manchester?” You ask him.

“A school.” He replies sarcastically. You throw a pillow from his bed at him.

“No shit.” You say as he throws it back. “But why’d you pick one so far?”

He pauses, not wanting to reveal the honest answer. Truth be told, he found it more and more difficult to keep his secret around you. He needed to go simply for the fact he was falling in too deep, deeper than a stepbrother should fall for his sister.

It was hard seeing you every day of his life yet never being able to be with you. He saw you with other men, which ignited a jealousy in him he didn’t even know that he had. He couldn’t stand being around it, couldn’t stand lying to your parents when you snuck out of his bedroom window, couldn’t stand watching you allow yourself to get treated like shit by men who provided nothing. If you had been his… in another life… things would be different.

“I just think I’ve outgrown London.” He says, continuing to pack his clothes.

“I hope you love it.” You tell him. You were so sweet, so kind to everyone. You hadn’t deserved the hand life had dealt you. He only wished you could see the love you deserved, he wished he could show you.

He felt sad leaving you, but he felt better knowing you would be safe with mom and Daemon. He knew you would take good care Aegon and Viserys. He knew you would care for Joffrey and Luke too. Even though they weren’t your blood you loved them like they were.

“When do you go to get your rental car?” You ask him.

“In the morning. Then I’ll drive non stop to Manchester.”

“Hm.” You hum while petting his cat, Vermax. “He will miss you.”

“I trust you’ll take care of him for me.” Jace says.

“I will, besides he’ll have Arrax and Syrax to keep him company.”

“And what about you? Who will keep you company?”

“Don’t you worry about me, Jacaerys. I will get by.” You say. He looks at you, comfortable on his bed with Vermax on your lap. “Perhaps you’ll even meet a girl in Manchester.”

“Perhaps you’ll meet someone who won’t cheat on you.” He says, a random anger appearing out of nowhere.

“Don’t be fuckin’ rude, Jacaerys.” You say. “I’ve done nothing to anger you.”

“No, you’ve just allowed yourself to be treated like shit by men and I know you will continue to when I leave.”

“I don’t see how it’s your business anyway.” You say. “But be like that if you wish. I have a tampon I can throw in your bag if it’s that time of the month.”

He sneers at you, waving you away with his hand. You stand to leave. “Goodnight, Jacaerys.”

“Wait.” He says, grabbing your wrist as you open the door. “I’m sorry… I’m just… scared. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“You have nothing to worry about Jacaerys.” You say, taking his hands in yours. “You’re gonna do great.”

You look into his eyes, but he looks past you at the door. His hand pushes it shut, and you look at it, then back at him. “Jace?”

He presses his lips onto yours and you pull away, shocked. You both stare into each other’s eyes in silence, both of you gasping in shock at what just happened.

Neither of you had any idea what to say to each other, so you pressed your lips back onto his. His hands rested on your waist, pulling you into him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he backed you onto his bed. You landed on the pile of clothes on his bed, letting him in between your legs while playing with his pretty brown curls.

“Bubby!” Viserys yells, coming into Jace’s room. You practically kick Jacaerys onto the floor. Viserys doesn’t seem to notice what you two were both up to, too distracted with his mission. “Have you seen Aegon? We’re playing hide and seek, mommy said check in here.”

“No, Viserys! Get out.” Jace says on the floor. Viserys sticks his tongue out at him.

Your heart was racing from the fear of getting caught by your sibling, clarity hitting you in the face.

“I’ll help you find him, Vis.” You say, standing and leaving Jace’s room, avoiding Jace’s eyes that were pleading for you to stay.

The next morning you all woke early to say goodbye to Jacaerys. He’d wanted to text you during the night and ask you to come to his room so you both could talk, but he gave you your space.

Your family all said goodbye to Jace, helping him bring his bags to the car and giving him a tearful goodbye.

You waited by the car door and he walked over to you with a gentle smile. You both stared into each others eyes, pleading.

Tell me to stay. I’ll stay. His eyes begged yours.

Stay. Your eyes begged.

But in the end neither of you said a word. Instead you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, and he did the same.

He moved you by your hips away from the car door, getting inside and avoiding your eyes. Your family all waved goodbye to him, saying they loved and were proud of him.

He drove off, staring at you in the rear view mirror.

That was the last time your family was all together.

II - The Photo

A few months had gone by since Jace left, and neither of you had spoken. You occasionally stalked his Instagram to see how he was doing though. He had been traveling, getting sunburnt, clubbing, DJing apparently. A hobby you hadn’t expected him to pick up, but one he had nonetheless. He had made two friends you noticed often, Cregan and Benjicot.

He was doing good. He was handsome, growing into a man. You missed him, in ways a stepsister shouldn’t miss her stepbrother. You dreamed of him often, even sneaking into his room at night every once in a while just because you missed his smell.

You stole oversized shirts he left behind, sleeping in them. You messed around on his PC, playing games like Roblox knowing he would get home and think it was Luke.

One day you had been mindlessly scrolling on Instagram when you saw Jace was tagged in a post by Cregan.

It was the two of them… and a girl. Jace’s arm was wrapped around her and they were practically connected at the hip. You gasped softly, trying to find who the girl was.

Her name was Sara, and she was obviously Cregan’s sister. They had the same sharp features.

“Slut.” You mumbled to yourself. You liked the post to be petty.

Jace’s heart dropped at the notification. It was the first interaction, if you could even call it that, that you two had shared since he left.

He wondered if you were jealous.

You were. You wondered if they were hooking up, or even dating.

They weren’t, she was a lesbian, but he knew the photo would get your attention.

Jace had told Cregan about your kiss, and Cregan wanting to be a wingman posted the photo in an attempt to get you to message Jace.

It didn’t work, and slowly you both started to move on from each other. You never exchanged any texts or calls or letters, and another year and a half would go by before you would reunite under the most unfortunate circumstances.

III - The Loss

You’d awoke in the middle of the night to a frightening knock on your door, a knock that only comes when there is bad news.

And bad news had come indeed.

Rhaenyra and your father Daemon, as well as Lucerys died in a car accident.

The news was debilitating for you and your walls had broke down.

You called Jacaerys in the middle of the night, and when he seen that call he knew only the worst had happened.

He answered, his voice shaking. “Y/N?”

“Jacaerys.” You sobbed into the phone hysterically. “Jacaerys, come home please. You have to come home now.”

“Y/N, I’m on my way. Y/N, please please calm down, you’re scaring me. I’ll be there in the morning. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No, Jacaerys, just please get home as soon as you can.” You sobbed, and he heard your brothers crying in the background too.

“Okay, okay.” He said, beginning to cry. Cregan heard the commotion and awoke from his side of the dorm.

“Are you alright, brother?” He asked, his voice groggy with sleep.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Y/N called me freaking out, the twins and Joff were crying too. I don’t know what’s going on. I think it’s my parents.” Jace said crying.

“I’ll drive you to London.” Cregan said, immediately dressing.

“You-sob-don’t-sob-have to.” Jace cries.

“Dude, you’re in no condition to drive. Don’t worry about it.”

“B-But it’s a four hour drive and there’s-sob-classes-“

“Dude. It’s fine. Alpha Drac for life, right? I’ve gotchu.”

Cregan drove them to London without stopping once, speeding 15 over the limit the whole time. Jacaerys cried half the car ride, then fell asleep the second half.

Cregan pulled down your street, waking Jacaerys before reaching the driveway.

“Be safe. Call me when you can.” Cregan says, but Jace was already sprinting out of the car door and tripping up the stairs.

He burst into the door, saying your name, mom, luke, anyone.

He ran into the living room, waking you from the couch where you had pulled out the hide-a-bed and were sleeping with the twins and Joffrey.

You immediately started crying when you saw him, trying to stay quiet so you didn’t wake the boys.

“Oh, Jacaerys.” You pulled him into a hug, and you both sobbed into each other.

“Is it mom and Daemon?” He asked, knowing the answer but fearing the worst.

You nodded. “And Lucerys.”

Jace pulled away from you. “You’re lying.” He said in a whisper.

“No, Jacaerys, please listen-“ He turned and walked away from you upstairs. You followed right behind him as he turned into Luke’s empty room.

He fell onto Luke’s bed, screaming into the pillows. You laid behind him, rubbing his arm and sobbing into his back. You kissed his shoulders, quietly saying a prayer for your broken family.

He sat up, “Oh my god, I think I’m gonna be sick.” He said, leaving to the bathroom.

You followed again, holding his hair back as he got sick into the toilet and sobbed. You sat on the edge of the tub, and when he was done he rested his head onto your thighs continuously sobbing while you rubbed his hair and sobbed with him.

You eventually walked downstairs when the sun began to rise, and you both laid down and fell asleep next to your brothers, not letting go of each other once.

You both only slept for a few hours before you woke up, seeing your brothers awake and sitting in silence.

“Jace.” Joffrey said, and he and the twins all moved to lay on Jacaerys. He held them, wanting to cry more but there was nothing left.

“Kids?” The door opened and Rhaenyra’s aunt and uncle Rhaenys and Corlys, her cousin Laena, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena walked in.

Rhaenys and Corlys were also Jace, Joffrey and Luke’s godparents. Joffrey and Jace immediately greeted them, while you and the twins remained seated. They were not your family, and you had only met them a few times.

Your father could be an ass, so he had a lot of enemies you could say, including majority of Rhaenyra’s family.

Thankfully they had been kind and sympathetic of your grief and the twins as well, knowing you all were now also without a father and mother. They were your father’s enemies, but not yours.

Corlys and Rhaenys pleaded with you and Jace to foster Joffrey so they could teach him about the Velaryon family business in overseas trading, as they had done with Lucerys.

You wanted the best life for your siblings, so you let Jacaerys decide for his blood brother. You knew Joffrey would be better off with them and his older cousins, but Jace said no.

“Our family is here. We need to stay together from now on.” He told his aunt.

“Jacaerys, you’ll have to return to Uni at some point. You’re so close to being done. How do you expect Y/N to raise three children on her own so young?”

“I’m not going back.”

“Jacaerys!” You yelled at him. “You have to finish school.”

“No. My decision is final. We’re staying together. Nobody raise the matter again.”

The funeral was a few days after that, and it had brought all of Rhaenyra’s family as well as Daemon’s weird and mysterious friends from all over the world.

People gave you and Jace their condolences, as well as tons of money. You knew Rhaenyra was rich from inheriting her father Viserys’ estate, which Jace would now inherit in turn, but Rhaenyra’s cousins and aunts and uncles and friends wanted to make sure you both were well set on top of that inheritance so that you and Jace could take care of your siblings with no trouble.

It was a generous thing, money, but it didn’t bring your family back. It didn’t matter how many checks they wrote, you couldn’t cash them to heaven.

“Brother.” A deep voice said.

You and Jace turn your heads to see Cregan and his sister approaching you.

“Cregan?” Jace embraced him in a hug, both of them holding each other for a moment.

“Hi, I’m Sara.” Sara said, taking the moment to introduce herself. “I’ve heard nice things about you.”

You turned your nose up at her, thinking she was being sarcastic. She wasn’t but despite your attitude she was polite to you anyway, knowing you were heavy with grief.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances.” Cregan says to you, hugging you as well. You appreciated them coming, knowing it meant a lot to Jacaerys to have them there.

Jace took your hand in his, both of you in all black, staring at the three caskets. You thought he held your hand for your comfort, but it was for his.

The guilt Jace felt was huge. He hadn’t been there, he had left to Uni for his own selfish reasons. It didn’t matter how many people told him it was okay, he was trying to get an education, it wasn’t the real reason he was there. He left to get away from you.

And that own selfish reason he had for leaving… he thought it could be the reason why your parents and brother were now in the ground. If he had stayed, they might have too.

“Jace?” Your voice was muffled. “Jacaerys?”

“Hm?” He asked, your voice pulling him back to reality.

“They want you to say a few words.” You said. He looked around, noticing his family was looking to him to say the final goodbyes.

“Will you come with me?” He asked. You nodded, standing with him to look over the caskets.

He said a few words of love and praise to his now lost family, holding your hand the whole time. You both couldn’t recall what he said, only having said it for the others around you.

You both grabbed a pile of dirt, throwing it onto the caskets. Jace winced when it landed on Luke’s.

“Are you okay?” You asked, rubbing his arm. He shook his head no. You brought his head to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple. “Me either. But we’ll be okay… someday.”

He liked to believe that what you were saying was true.

IIII - The Recovery

Jacaerys moved home, taking a leave of absence from Uni. They were more than generous with him, giving him as much time as he wanted to decide when to return. You begged him to reconsider, but he was set in his decision.

You both stepped into a parental role, playing mommy and daddy 24/7. And by god’s grace for some reason those kids to listened to you.

You did everything Rhaenyra and Daemon had done like bathing, cleaning, cooking, laundry, etc. You and Jace had become a power duo at the household chores just like they had.

Neither of you worked, taking time off to grieve and you also really didn’t need to work due to Jace’s inheritance.

You both contemplated moving. The house held bad memories for you both, but you dared not touch your parents and Luke’s room. Neither of you had the strength to even go in the rooms anymore, nor uproot your little brother’s lives by making them move from the house they were raised in.

You and Jace never talked about the night before he left, instead focusing on the chaos of two teenagers raising three young, rambunctious boys.

A year went by of this lifestyle, making it three years since your initial kiss and a year of your parent’s and brother’s passing.

In a way, you both had moved on. You were older, forced to mature quicker than you’d have liked, raising three kids, unable to focus on the past of what once could have been.

Cregan and Sara moved down to London following their final year at Uni, requesting you both to come out and celebrate their birthday.

You both hesitantly agreed, given the boys had all just left a day before to be with Rhaenys and Corlys for the summer, and you had not experienced what it was like to still be a young adult in almost a year.

You had nearly forgot life could be fun when you weren’t being a parent.

You all met up at a sports bar since Cregan had wanted to watch a soccer game, and it was packed.

You managed to find a table, but it did hardly anything. Bodies were packed in there like sardines to see the world cup final.

You and Sara both sat, sipping on a cocktail while the boys got more drinks. You weren’t particularly keen on being left there alone with her, given you hadn’t cared for her since you didn’t know what had gone on between her and Jace when they were at Uni.

You made polite small talk, but Sara was a certified yapper. She’d find anything to keep the dying conversation going.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Sara asked.

“Uh, nah. Haven’t really had the time nor the want with the kids and all.” You said, sipping your drink.

“Maybe you ought give girls a try.” She said. “I did once and I’ve never gone back since.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“What?”

“You’re… a lesbian?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” She said.

“Well, I thought you and Jacaerys-“

She spit her drink out onto you, laughing at even the idea. You wiped your face off with a napkin, trying not to smash your drink upside her head.

“And this whole time I had no idea why you hated me.” She sat back, crossing her arms and smirking. “No wonder… This whole time you thought I was in love with Jacaerys.”

You couldn’t hide the little smile that crept on your face.

“Oh, sweet thing… Jacaerys is all yours.” She looked over at him at the bar. “I think he always has been.”

“So… were there any girls at Uni?” You asked.

“A few.” She mumbled, hesitant on telling you. “I’m sure you had a few back here as well.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it still hurt knowing Jace had moved on too during the time. It hurt knowing girls were getting his love that you desperately craved.

“He told me and Cregan about your kiss.”

“That was a long time ago.” You say. “We both have bigger things to worry about now rather than a moment in time three years ago.”

“I know you love your brothers, Y/N. I know Jace does too.” Sara says. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself. It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.”

You looked at Jace, who was making his way back to your table with more drinks. His eyes caught yours, and he smiled at you. He didn’t do that a lot anymore since they died.

“I got you a negroni, my lady.” Jace says, setting your drink in front of you. You roll your eyes with a smirk.

The four of you drank all night while watching the game, you and Jace loosening up the more alcohol you consumed.

The night had spiraled out of control, the four of you separating from each other.

You found yourself at the bar, ordering more drinks, Sara was in the bathroom with a girl, Cregan was busy arguing and growing closer to a fist fight with Germany fans, and Jacaerys was busy searching for you on the wrong side of the bar.

A man sat beside you by the bar while you waited.

“Her next drink’s on me.” He said to the bartender.

“No, that’s fine actually. I’ve got a tab open. My drunk friends will find out in the morning they paid for it.”

He laughed, and a blush creeped across your cheeks. “What if I had been ordering 15 shots? Then what would you have done?”

“I would have paid for 15 shots.” It was your turn to laugh now.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“Jason Lannister.”

“Nice to meet you.” You say. He was kinda cute, and the thought made Sara’s words from earlier echo in your head.

It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.

“Actually, you can pay for my drink.” You say.

He smirks, pulling out his wallet. “What’s your poison?”

“Surprise me.”

He bought you both a few rounds of shots, and you grew more confident and more drunk with each one.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom.” You drunkenly slur.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks. You say yes, taking his hand and dragging him along behind you.

You got lost on the way to the bathroom, instead ending up dancing in the middle of the floor.

You were chest to chest with him, his hand on your lower back as you leaned up to kiss him. Your hands held tight onto the collar of his shirt, which was keeping you from falling. He matched your energy with the kiss, his hand tangling in your hair.

His other hand snaked its way to your inner thigh, his fingers tickling the skin under your skirt.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Huh?” You pulled away to ask Jason, drunkenly wondering how he was able to talk while kissing you.

But it wasn’t him yelling, it was Jace.

Time slowed down for a second, and it all happened in slow motion as you watched Jace swing his arm to hit Jason in the jaw.

Jason stumbled, holding his jaw and glancing back and forth between you, Jace, and Cregan who had noticed the commotion and came to back up Jace.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” Jason yelled at you, pushing your shoulder lightly, but you were drunk and uncoordinated so you fell.

Jacaerys practically jumped on Jason after that, punching him over and over in the face.

“Jacaerys, stop, now!” You yelled. “Cregan, stop him!”

Cregan didn’t help the situation, only helping Jacaerys jump Jason.

“Oh my fuckjng God.” You yelled to yourself, trying to pull Cregan and Jacaerys off of Jason.

Bar security came, kicking you all out and banning you forever. You didn’t care about that though, you were just pissed at Jace for embarrassing you like that.

You, Cregan, Jace, and Sara took the taxi home in silence.

Cregan and Sara had immediately went to bed downstairs, while you angrily stormed up to your room.

“Are you seriously angry with me?” Jace asked, following you into your room and closing the door.

“Get out, Jacaerys.” You said, both of you sober by this point from all the adrenaline of the last hour of events.

“I was just protecting you!”

“From what?” You laugh, frustrated.

He had no answer. He knew he had only attacked the guy out of jealously, seeing you kiss a man that should have been him.

“Why would you do that?” He asks, his voice laced with sadness.

“Do what?” You ask, rubbing your eyes as you felt a headache forming.

“Kiss him.” He said. You sighed.

“Because I wanted to. I don’t need you protecting me.” You looked at Jace, his signature pout forming. You glanced down to his hands, which were bloody and bruised.

“Jesus.” You mumbled. “Come on.”

You pulled him to the bathroom, making him sit on the toilet while you cleaned and bandaged his hand. He watched you the whole time, your eyebrows knit together as you focused on his wounds.

It was there it hit him, that he loved you. He was tired of burying that feeling. He loved you. He loved how you took care of your siblings, he loved how you immediately stepped into the role of a mother without ever complaining, he loved his life with you.

His hand caressed your cheek.

“Stop, I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore than you have.” You say. His fingers were gently gliding over your jaw, eventually taking a hold of it to make you look at him.

Your heart was racing, you knew what he was feeling because you felt it too.

“You’re mine.” He said, and without even thinking you smashed your lips onto his. He pulled you onto his lap, his damaged hands loosely resting on your waist.

Three years it had been since your first kiss, three years of longing and aching for him, trying to let the feeling go for the sake of your children.

It’s okay to be selfish sometimes.

You pulled him into his room, kicking the door shut as you fell onto his bed, just like the first time.

He nestled between your legs, kissing you intently. He moved his lips down, pressing kisses on your neck and chest.

You whimpered, your fingers toying in his hair.

“I need you, Jacaerys.” You whisper.

“Fuck, I need you more.” He whispers back.

You sit up on your knees as Jacaerys stands. You pull his shirt gently off him, avoiding his hands, and move to helping him undo his belt and pants until he’s in only his boxers.

You undress your torso, then wiggling to kick off your skirt to reveal your thin little panties.

“You might have thought you had a mission but really you had a death wish going out in those.” Jace said, pressing his lips onto the thin black lace. He kisses your wetness, moving your panties to the side so he can eat. His tongue glides into your cunt, making sure to lick and taste the sweetest parts.

“So possessive, and for what?” You moan, your fingers gripping his curls.

“Because you’re mine.” He says into your heat, and you moan at his voice.

He eats you with a burning desire, a taste he had dreamt about for years. He’s messy, yet coordinated, kissing and sucking just the right spots to make you melt onto his tongue. He was starved for you, and now he eats as if he’ll never eat again.

You chase the release, grinding your hips into his face.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” You whine, your hand trembling in his curls. He moans into your heat, pushing you over the edge. You spill onto his tongue, and he doesn’t miss a drop, licking as long as he can until you’re shaking.

You go to kiss him, but he pulls away. “I’ve still got you on my lips, I wanna savor it as long as I can.”

“You can’t share?” You tease.

He shivers at your words. “Ooh, don’t test me.”

You settle for kissing his neck instead, pulling him by his hips between your legs to make him grind onto you.

You feel his length inside his boxers against your heat, and you shiver at the size.

“Don’t keep me waiting any longer, Jace.”

“How long have you been waiting exactly?” He teases.

“A long time. Longer than three years.” You say. He finally presses his lips back onto yours, his hand weakly kneading your breast. You gently take his hand in yours, guiding his weak fingers.

“I wish my hands weren’t numb.” He moans between kisses.

“What-“

“Sh, it’s fine, just keep kissing me.” He says, refusing to let you break away. His tongue plays with yours, and your lips are bruised and swollen from the eagerness of his.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” You moan, trying to push down his boxers to rub his length.

“Just like you were at the bar, walking around in that tight little black skirt, kissing on guys who had no business even breathing the same air as you.

You finally reach your hand in his boxers, eliciting a gasp from him as you rub his length. You push his boxers down, and he pulls your panties off you.

You rub his length against your wet slit, moaning as you guide him inside you.

“Baby.” He moans. You shiver at the pet name, wanting to hear more of his sweet voice. He rests his weight on his fore arms, kissing and sucking on your neck to leave marks. His thrusts are fueled with love, unlike ones you’ve felt before from others.

He fucks you so sweetly, pulling away your neck so he can look in your eyes. He holds your hips into the bed, fucking you. You moan and whine, gripping his wrists for support.

“Say you’re mine.” He moans.

“I’m yours. Fuck, Jace, I’m all yours.”

“Yes, my girl. Fuck, you’re so wet.” He says, his words sultry and low.

“I’m so in love with you.” You moan, lost in lust.

“I wish I could fuck you all night long.”

“Don’t worry.” You moan. “We’ve got a lifetime to do that.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Jace moans. “I’m so in love with you it hurts.”

He nestles into your neck, and you hold him close to you, moaning in his ear.

You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, and he shakes as he grows close to his release. He fucks you so deep his pelvic bone rubs your clit, drawing you closer too.

You pull him by his neck into your lips again as you both cum. He fills you up, warm and deep inside your stomach as he moans into your lips.

“Fuck, fuck.” He pulls out, gasping. He looks into your eyes, both of you catching your breath and coming down from what just happened.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, still shaking him his release.

“No, Jace.” You say, tucking a curl behind his ear. “You were perfect.”

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He lays beside you, resting his head on your shoulder. “What happens now?”

“We…” You say, not knowing where to start.

Your whole life had been uprooted. Both of you had done nothing for yourselves, until now. You both had a choice to make. You could quit living half a life, one foot in one foot out the door, doing your duty yet nothing for yourself. Or, you could get busy living. Take care of your brothers, love each other endlessly, make the most out of your life and your love like your parents would have wished for you both.

“I think we just start enjoying it.”

“Enjoying what?”

“Our lives.” You look at him, and you take his bruised hand in yours.

“Together.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, the last straw, arguing, violence, Sexually Explicit Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (angry/rough PIV, fingering, degradation kink), memories of past CSA, self harm, Bucky really, really fucks up.

Word Count: 4k

Previously On...: Tony sent you a very expensive apology gift.

A/N: Ya’ll are getting this early! Just one thing to say:

I am so, so sorry.

Coincidentally, this is getting posted on the day I'll be coming home from NoLa, so I'll arrive just in time to hear you all say how much you now hate me. Yay. -_-

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @doublejeon @pattiemac1

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, lost in the dark colors, the reflection of the moonlight over the water. The sound of the door opening broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see Bucky shuffle into the room. 

“Hey, sweets,” he said, toeing off his boots.

“Hey,” you said without emotion, turning your face back to  the painting.

“Whacha lookin’ at?” he asked, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

“Apology gift from Tony.”

“What’s he apologizing to you for?” God, you couldn’t even muster up the energy to be angry at him.

“Calling out your unhealthy obsession with Jade in front of the team,” you said, voice flat. 

“I do not have an unhealthy obsession with Vix,” Bucky said, annoyance coloring his words. “How many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing going on between the two of us before you start believing me.” 

“Maybe you should stop telling me there’s nothing and start actually acting like there’s nothing,” you said as you stood up. “Because honestly, I’m tired of hearing your empty words.” You began to walk away, but Bucky reached out and grabbed your arm.

“They aren’t empty, Pocket!” he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it filled the room as if he’d shouted. “It fucking hurts like hell to hear you say that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t help the sarcasm that oozed from your voice now. “Your feelings are hurt now, so that changes everything. Let me put aside the pain I’ve been dealing with for months to reassure you.” You yanked your hand free from his grasp. “I’m exhausted, Bucky. Nothing is getting better. In fact, things are getting worse, and I keep pretending that I can be okay with things, but you just keep picking her over me, time and time again. I don’t deserve that. Not from someone who’s supposed to love me.”

“Pick her over you? That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” he said, voice rising.

“Is it?” you asked him. You pointed to the corner where your overnight bags sat waiting for a trip you’d never take. “Is that bullshit, Bucky? Cause we were supposed to be in the Catskills right now, but because that fucking cunt came crying for you, you went running to her and left me sitting here, alone and forgotten. Again.”

“Pocket,” Bucky ran a hand over the back of his neck, a sure sign you were ruffling him. “She needed someone to support her. She’s not like you– she doesn’t–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Barnes!” you interrupted, shouting now. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m breaking up with you because of her and you still just stand there and defend her!”

Bucky’s face paled and his eyes went wide. “No,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“What?” You weren’t sure you heard him.

“I said ‘no,’” he said, his voice louder, but still soft. “You're not breakin' up with me. Doll, please. I need you. You said you were gonna fight for us, fight for me. That’s what you said!”

“I’m so tired of fighting for you when you’re off fighting for her! I can’t do this anymore, Bucky,” you practically sobbed. “You are fucking destroying me and feel like you just. don’t. care. I can’t just sit here and let it keep happening. You say you need me, but you’ve made it clear time and time again that you don’t give a shit about what I need. Every time I’ve asked you to put a boundary between you and Carthage, you’ve stomped right over it. And I can’t keep living like this. Yesterday was supposed to be a celebration of one of the greatest accomplishments of my career, and she ruined it.”

“It wasn’t her fault she got bad intel!” Bucky shouted.

“Could you just FUCKING STOP?!” you screamed. “Stop defending her! She either royally fucked up or she set them up on purpose! Those are the only two options! Either way, the entire thing was her fault. Rhodey is unconscious– almost died– because of her! She’s got you so wrapped around her fucking finger that you can’t even see it, and I am SO. GOD. DAMNED. OVER. IT! You promised me you’d make it up to me,” you continued shouting at him. “You fucking promised! But as soon as she bats her lashes, your promises don’t mean shit! You keep making excuses, you keep saying you’re sorry, but you keep doing the same fucking thing over and over again, and the only thing your actions are promising is that she means more to you than I do!”

“That’s not true!” he shouted back at you. “You mean more to me than anything!”

“I don’t fucking believe you!” you screamed, your voice going hoarse.

“I’ll fucking prove it to you!” He grabbed your elbows and pulled you to him, kissing you with such force it would have knocked you over if he hadn’t been holding you up. The moment he broke the kiss for air, you slapped him across the face. Only to immediately kiss him again.

Within seconds, you were ripping at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel one another, skin to skin, your tongues battling against each other as though whomever could dominate the kiss could win your fight. Bucky literally tore your shirt in half before you pushed him down onto your bed. Crawling on top of him, you scratched your nails down his chest, hard enough to draw blood.

Bucky hissed into your mouth, reaching down to yank off his pants and boxer briefs. You hastily pulled them down and off his legs before climbing back up to his mouth. Your kisses were passionate, angry and feral, each of you trying to prove a point to the other. 

You felt both of Bucky’s hands grasp the waistband of your jeans and rip them open, sending the button and zipper teeth flying. “Those were my favorite fucking jeans,” you warned.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he growled, shoving a hand into your panties and finding your clit. You arched your back as he pinched and rolled it between his fingers, the aggression in his movements igniting your blood. You gasped as he shoved two fingers into you while simultaneously flipping you so you were now on your back and he loomed above you.

He pulled his hand from you, leaving you aching and empty. He kissed you as he divested you of what was left of your jeans and your panties. “Taste yourself,” he said, shoving his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on them, savoring the tang of your essence on his skin. Bucky groaned at the sight before pulling his fingers out and kissing you again. 

“You’re mine,” he growled, grabbing at your breasts and roughly kneading the flesh. “Look at me, Pocket. You’re mine.” You turned your head away, not wanting to meet his eyes, but Bucky would have none of it. Gripping your chin tight enough to leave a bruise, he yanked your head back so you were looking him in the eye. “I said, you’re mine.” He entered you then, the force of it nearly splitting you in half. “You’re mine and I’m fucking yours. Forever.”

He pounded into you as if his very life depended on it, and you clutched at his shoulders for dear life. “God, yes, Bucky,” you cried, all your resolve finally leaving you as the pleasure rose within you. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. Only mine. Only fucking mine!”

With a roar, Bucky picked up one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to hit you deeper as he drove into you. His thrusts were punishing, as though he were trying to see just how deep he could get himself inside of you before you actually broke in two.

"You like that?" he murmured as he rutted his hips into you.

"Fuck, yes, please, Bucky-- just like that," you moaned. He had you close. So, so close. "Keep going."

"Yeah, I thought so, you dirty slut," he grunted.

"What?" you asked, pulling your head back into the pillow so you could stare at him, wide-eyed as he continued to pound relentlessly into you. His words had taken you aback-- this was not something your loving boyfriend had ever said to you before. You dropped one leg from around his waist and tried to pull the other from his shoulder.

"Knew you loved taking my cock. God, you're such a filthy whore for me."

"Bucky, stop." You pushed gently against his chest, but he was already so far gone to his lust that he didn't seem to hear you.

"Such a good fucktoy for me," he grunted, his pace quickening as he neared his release. You felt your breath coming hard and fast now, but not from your impending climax, which had died with his words, but from an oncoming anxiety attack. “You goin’ dumb on me already, like a good little cockslut?”

Flashes of your miserable childhood flickered through your head, the way Darren would call you his "good little money-making whore" after you'd been raped by yet another of his clients, or when he decided to violate you himself, calling you his own personal slut, his special fuck toy.

"Bucky," you shouted, punching him with your fists, desperate now to get him off you, out of you. "Stop! Get off of me! GET OFF OF ME!" You screamed, thrashing at him. You saw the moment your words registered-- his eyes lost their haze of lust and his hips stopped pumping into you.

"Doll?" he asked, looking down on you in confusion. "What's wr--"

"Get off me, get off me, get off me!" you shrieked as you rolled out from under him, your entire body suddenly on fire with shame and disgust. The second your feet hit your bedroom floor, you were reaching for your silk robe, wrapping yourself in it as though the thin fabric could protect you from his words. From him.

"Pocket," Bucky watched your movements, his eyes betraying his bewilderment at your actions. "What's going on? What did I do?"

"Why would you call me that?" you asked, your words coming out in between your desperate gasps for air. "Why would you say those things?"

Bucky sat up, reaching for you, but you moved away from him. "Baby, what things? What did I s--" Realization dawned on him then, and his entire face fell. "Shit. Oh, God. Oh, Pocket. Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I didn't think--"

"Why would you say that, Bucky?" you asked, fighting back the tears that so desperately wanted to break free. "You've never called me a-a-..." you couldn't even get the word out. "How could you do that?"

"Fuck, Baby..." Bucky began, running his hands through his hair in response to your distress, "I never... I thought you'd like it. I should have realized, after Darren..."

"Don't say his name!" You hadn't meant to shout at him, but you were damned if you were going to invite the ghost of your tormentor into the sanctuary of your room. "Please," you cried, "don't say his name."

Bucky got up and tried to wrap his arms around you, but you pulled away, feeling too vile, too dirty, to even let him touch you.

"Sweetheart, please," he began, reaching for you again, "you're shaking. Let me hold you." You shook your head as you moved away from him yet again, trying to steady yourself.

"Where did that even come from, Bucky? Why would you think... What would even make you think that was something I would want?"

Bucky's hand went to rub the back of his neck as he looked up at you from behind his lashes. "I... I heard girls... like that sort of thing. That it turns them on."

"You can't just start it out of nowhere," you cried, "It's something you need to agree on first! You can't just say it without making sure your partner's okay with it! And I can't believe you'd ever think I would be okay with it! God, who even told you that?" You couldn't imagine any of Bucky's friends saying something like that to him; hell, Steve would have a coronary before even suggesting it. Did he read about it in some degrading kink group online?

"I was talking to Vix, and she said--"

"You what?" you spun to face him, your words sharp in your shock.

"Vixen. Jade. I was talking to her during training one time and she said girls like it when guys talk to them like that during sex. Well, she said she likes it. Said it, uh, turns her on."

Your entire body froze as if you'd been doused with ice water. "You were talking to Jade Carthage about sex and what gets her off." Your voice was hard and clipped. It wasn't even a question, just a statement that made your stomach twist, but you had to make sure you had understood him correctly.

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad," Bucky hemmed, "but sweets, I swear, it wasn't like that."

You called for FRIDAY to turn up the lights, no longer wanting to be trapped in the intimacy of the semi-darkness with him.

"It wasn't like that? Then please enlighten me, Bucky, what was it like? Jesus, how did you two even stumble into that conversation in the first place?"

"Baby," Bucky looked frantic as he grabbed his boxer briefs from the floor and tugged them back on, "I don't even remember how we got on the subject. We were sparring and I pinned her and--"

"You had a conversation about sex while you were lying on fucking top of her?" You could barely contain your rage; you were seething, about to vibrate out of your skin with revulsion.

"Honey, it's not that big of a deal, really."

"Not that big of a deal?" you asked, knowing you were about to tread into some very dangerous territory, but needing him to understand you. "So, it wouldn't be that big of a deal if I let Steve get on top of me and had him tell me what gets him hard? What makes him come?"

Bucky's jaw tightened immediately at the mention of Steve. "Don't," he growled. "Do not bring him into this. It's completely different."

"It's not, Bucky! It's a thousand times worse! God," you threw your arms above your head as you began to pace in front of your bed. "I can't tell if you're actually this naive or if you think I'm fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid, Pocket," Bucky's voice was quieter now, more restrained. "I... God, I just messed up. I'm an idiot. I didn't think it through and..." He trailed off and slumped onto the edge of the bed, his hands pushed into his hair as he stared down at the floor.

You could see his muscles craving to pull you back into his arms, but he resisted. His eyes flickered to you before darting away again, like looking at you caused him physical pain.

"Do you want to sleep with her? Were you imagining her while you were fucking me?" It was a reckless question to ask--a question that you didn’t want the answer to--but it slipped out before you could stop it.

Bucky's head whipped up, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at you. "What? No!" He stood abruptly, hands outstretched towards you. "Baby, no! God, no! I would never... I can't even believe you'd think... Don't even talk like that."

"But you took her kinks, her turn ons, and you brought them into our bed. You spoke words you knew another woman-- a woman you know I fucking loathe-- wanted to hear, you... you used them on me, knowing my history, and you didn't give a shit about what saying them might do to me!" Your voice was trembling with accusation, your body shaking with tremors of hurt and betrayal.

"No! No, sweetheart... it wasn't like that." He kept repeating himself, his words rushed, his face pale with shock and regret. "I didn't mean to disrespect you like that. I heard her say it and I thought... I mean, she's a woman too, right? So, if she liked it, I thought maybe you..." He trailed off, his expression one of sheer desperation as he tried to find the right words.

"But I'm not her. It wasn’t about pleasing me; it was about using what pleases her." You shook your head harshly, a lump forming in your throat. "You don't even see how wrong that is. And you shouldn't even have been having the conversation with her in the fucking first place!"

"What can I do?" Bucky pleaded, his voice a strained whisper as he raked his fingers through his hair again. His face was etched with pain, regret seeping from every pore of him. "How can I fix this? Tell me how to make it right."

But you were too overcome by anger and heartbreak to think straight. You moved further away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you were trying to shield your heart from further damage.

“What did you tell her?” you asked, but Bucky looked at you with confusion etched across his face. “You said it was a conversation. I’m assuming she didn’t do all the talking. What did you talk about? Did you tell her what gets you off? What you like? Were you sharing intimate details about our sex life with a complete outsider? Did you tell her about your ‘sergeant’ kink?”

He didn’t need to speak for you to read the truth in the expression on his face.

The silence hung in the room, heavy and oppressive, as Bucky fought for words. A nerve twitched in his jaw, the only movement in his otherwise frozen face. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke.

"I... Yes, I did," he admitted, his voice a mere whisper. "I didn't think it through. I didn't mean to... I just..."

His voice trailed off again and he sunk back onto the bed, looking completely defeated. His hands covered his face as if he were desperate to hide himself from your accusing gaze.

“Get out.” You couldn’t even stand to look at him. This was a betrayal beyond anything you’d ever have expected from him. 

Bucky’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes wide with shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He just sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at you as though he was seeing you for the first time.

"Get out," you repeated, each word a dagger. "I can't... I can't stand to even look at you right now."

Still, Bucky didn’t move. He just sat there in stunned silence, his face pale and his eyes filled with regret.

"I said get out!" Your voice was shrill, filling the room with a chilling echo that seemed to reverberate through every fiber of your being.

Bucky flinched at your tone, and finally roused himself to his feet. He looked at you one last time, his steel-blue eyes so full of pain that it made your heart ache despite everything. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, like he might try to explain, but you’d had enough of his ‘explanations’ for the evening. Hell, maybe for the rest of your life.

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes filling with a mixture of fear and dread as he nodded slowly. "Okay... yeah," he stammered. "I'll give you some space."

“No. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done, Bucky. This… this is unforgivable. We’re finished.”

"Doll," he breathed, the pet name he had given you sounding like a prayer on his lips, but a curse to your ears. "I love you... I'm sorry. I messed up, I know. But I love you."

“I don’t believe you.” You felt like your heart was being ripped apart as you watched him standing there, consumed by remorse. You had never seen him like this before, his usual charismatic confidence replaced with fearful uncertainty.

“Just go,” you whispered, turning away so you wouldn't have to see the pain in his eyes. You felt a sob rising in your throat, but you held it back, refusing to let it out while he was still there.

With every inch of him screaming resistance, Bucky walked over to the door and hesitated at the threshold. "I'll... I'll do anything to make this right, sweetheart," he promised, his voice choked with emotion. "I'll fix this... We can fix this."

But you remained silent, your back still turned to him as you tried desperately to keep your tears at bay. The sound of the door opening and closing behind him was deafening in its finality.

You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, suddenly feeling cold. The room was suddenly too big, too empty without Bucky's reassuring presence. You sunk onto the bed, burying your head in your hands as the events of the night washed over you with overwhelming force as you began to sob in earnest.

You weren't even sure what you were angriest about. He’d broken yet another promise and left you waiting, your romantic getaway forgotten so he could be by her side. He'd called you a slut and a whore. He’d discussed your sex life with Jade-- the one woman you hated above all others, and openly discussed her kinks with her, and his own desires in return. He'd forced her kinks on you without your consent.

And then there was the worst part of it all, the bit that made you feel sick and hollow: he'd failed to see what he'd done wrong.

You had thought Bucky knew you better, that he respected you more than this. You'd shared secrets and fears with him, things you'd never shared with anyone else, not even Tony. He knew your past, knew how much trust meant to you - knew how difficult it had been for you to open your vulnerabilities up to something more than just casual sex - and yet he'd violated that trust in such a profound way.

This was just beyond anything else that had come before it. You couldn’t see a way to move forward after this.

Numbly, you began to strip off the sheets from the bed, your hands shaking as you balled them up and threw them into a corner of the room. You couldn't sleep on them now, nor ever again. You couldn't bear the thought of lying down where he'd... where he'd...

Tears started to spill down your cheeks as the reality of what had happened set in. You tried to blink them away, tried to swallow down the lump in your throat. But it was too late. Tears blinded you as you moved through your space on muscle memory alone, grabbing a garbage bag from under the sink in the kitchenette and shoving the offending sheets into it to dispose of later. Boiling them in chlorine wouldn't be able to relieve them of the taint they now carried.

Once the offending sheets were securely bagged and out of sight, you stumbled your way into the bathroom. Turning the shower on as hot as it would go, you stripped from your robe and stepped under the scalding stream from the waterfall shower head.

Hissing as the water hit your body, you let yourself succumb to your emotions. You reached for your loofah and began scrubbing at your skin, doing everything in your power to wash away the intense feeling of shame that had permeated deep under your dermis. You scrubbed until your skin was red, until it was raw and cracked and bleeding, but it offered you no relief.

The sensations were familiar, the burning heat, the stinging of newly torn flesh. It had been so long since you had felt the need to ritually cleanse yourself like this, you had desperately hoped you'd finally found yourself beyond the need to do so, but just a few words from Bucky's mouth had sent you reeling backwards, back to being that worthless, vile, used up girl that no number of college degrees, fancy company titles, or board-approved computer programs could fully erase. It was in your DNA, and you couldn't escape it. You scrubbed and scrubbed until time had lost meaning.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Happily Ever After

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~500

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You and Bucky deserve your Happily Ever After, and something tells you that you’re going to get it. It doesn’t matter what you face. If you have Bucky by your side, you know you’ll get through it.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: this won't a bit (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: this is something short to give you an update on their lives after the events of the entire story. thank you to everyone who loved this series! i had a lot of fun writing it <3

x

You pinch the two fabrics together and slide the pin to keep them together. You take another pin and hold it between your lips before finding another loose spot to pin together. Bucky stands in front of you watching as you work effortlessly on the suit you’re tailoring to his body. He parts his lips when he sees you take the pin out of your mouth to use it on his suit. You lick your dry lips and Bucky shifts in an effort to hide his arousal.

“Would you stop moving? I’m going to poke your skin and you’ll bleed.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve bled for you.”

“Okay, well, get blood on these clothes and I’m going to kill you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods.

“Okay, last pin. This won’t hurt a bit.”

You slide the last pin into place and look up at Bucky with a certain glimmer in your eyes.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll get more than blood on these clothes.”

“You’re vulgar,” you gasp and step back.

“You love it.”

“Well, I’m finished now. I’ve recorded my progress and you can take the suit off.”

Bucky steps off the small platform to do just that, and you walk to the double glass doors that lead out to the balcony. You lean on the railing and admire the Eternal City below. Italy. The place you fell in love with since Bucky first took you here. Now you live here and get to do the one thing you’ve aspired to be growing up: a fashion designer. It’s been a year since the incident with Gio but the trauma is still there. You can’t go anywhere without Bucky because you fear you’ll get kidnapped and experience something similar or worse.

Bucky has given you everything you could ever hope to want and need. You don’t have to work since Bucky takes care of you financially. Two months ago, he took you to Paris and gave you a million dollars to spend on whatever you wanted. He truly spoils you even though you don’t need all of that to be happy. You could be in a one-bedroom apartment with an overpriced rent fee and be just as happy. This is what makes Bucky happy so you’ll take it as long as he wants to give it.

Shortly after moving to Italy, you opened your first studio and started making clothes you hope to see in stores soon. The only thing Bucky has provided you with is a studio. Everything else is coming from you which is exactly what you want. You want to look at your clothes and know that it all came from you.

After changing back into a t-shirt and jeans, Bucky walks onto the balcony barefoot. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach, and you lean back with a smile.

“We should get home. Brute and King are waiting for us and if you keep leaving them alone, they’ll ruin yet another couch. The old one had claw marks everywhere on it.”

“Not my fault they have separation anxiety,” you laugh.

Bucky turns you around and scoops you into his arms, and you wrap your arm around his neck for support.

“Come on, Mrs. Barnes. We have a home to get to.”

“We’re not married… yet. Only one month to go.”

“And a short month it will be.”

“Lead the way, Mr. Barnes.”

And he does all the way home and right back into his heart where you belong.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[mrshesh]

thinking about "the distraught father adopting an orphan daughter" trope but with price and ghost :( like imagine, the reader is a younger girl in the task force, and she has kind of become like a daughter to them but they've never really disclosed it, and one day she just mutters "i love you, dad" to them (individually) :(( how do you think they'd react?

"i love you, dad." - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: calling simon "ghost" riley dad for the first time

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, platonic

genre: fluff, angst

a/n: hi anon! i looooove this request :( i've actually been thinking of this exact scenario for sooo long! however, i couldn't really think of anything for price. so if someone can help me out by sending some ideas & headcanons to me privately, i will make a price version asap! and, as much as i love the father-daughter trope, i decided to keep this gender neutral, so everyone can feel included. i hope you love it.

TW! mentions of abuse and torture. proceed with caution.

Simon’s father was the devil personified. His dad is the epitome of evil to him, even more so than his captor, Roba. He cringes when he sees a dad and son being affectionate with each other in public - it pains him to think about what could’ve been, how he could’ve turned out. He knows most of his trauma stems from the abuse his father put him through, which has forever shattered the image of fatherhood in his mind. 

That is until you came along. 

Simon immediately felt drawn to you when you joined the Task Force. Being the youngest member had difficulties, yet you took it like a champ and kept toiling while still being so bright, colorful, and full of life. He admired that about you. 

He found himself worrying for you more than he liked. If you were reckless on a mission, he’d pull you aside and yell at you, scolding you for pulling such stupid stunts at the risk of your being. But after every talking-to, he’d give you a gentle pat on the head with shaky hands. “You need to be more careful, mate.” He’d mutter, feeling a pit in his stomach. Why does he care so much? And why does he feel the need to protect you? 

He would keep an eye on you at all times. He’d ensure nobody got too touchy with you and that everybody on base treats you with the respect you deserve. If he saw you getting mistreated, he would use his authority to punish the person hurting you. He would then turn to you, his eyes softening as he stares at you through his balaclava. “You tell me if anyone’s hurting you, alright?” 

The day Simon realizes he loves you like his own child is the day you open up about your past to him. At this point, you’ve known each other for a few years. 

He has always known that he has a special love for you, but he never came to terms with it until this day. 

When you tell him about all your painful experiences in life, he can feel his heart tear open and get shredded into millions of pieces. Regardless of what you’ve been through, his soul aches for you. That day was the first time Simon ever hugged you, and he vouched to care and be there for you as long as he was breathing. 

Today, you’ve had a difficult time falling asleep. Tossing and turning in bed can only get you so far, and the thought of drinking warm milk at this time makes you physically ill. You’re in the comfort of your room, but you don’t feel the amenity. You need someone to talk to. 

You know that Simon is usually up during this time - he who deserves sleep the most gets it the least. Insomnia’s a bitch. 

You decide to send him a text. 

You: “You up?” Read, 3:38 AM.  Simon: “Yeah. Why are you awake?” Read, 3:38 AM.  You: “Can’t sleep. Your sleeping habits have rubbed off on me.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Welcome to my world.” Read, 3:39 AM.  Simon: “Is everything okay, though?” Read, 3:39 AM. You: “Yep. Just need someone to talk to, that’s all.” Read, 3:39 AM. Simon: “So you decide to text me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “I would’ve texted Johnny, but he fell asleep at midnight.” Read, 3:40 AM. Simon: “What’s so wrong with me?” Read, 3:40 AM. You: “You’re a grumpy, old man.” Read, 3:41 AM.  Simon: “Thanks, mate. ��” Read, 3:41 AM. You: “You’re welcome.” Read, 3:41 AM.  You: “Don’t worry, though. I like that about you.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “Not enough to be your first texting option.” Read, 3:42 AM.  You: “Don’t hyper-fixate on that, I’m begging.” Read, 3:42 AM.  Simon: “It’s funny.” Read, 3:42 AM. You: “It’s not. 🙄 It’s so boring I’m starting to feel sleepy, actually.” Read, 3:43 AM. Simon: “That’s good. Go to sleep, mate.” Read, 3:43 AM. You: “Yeah, might as well. You should sleep, too.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “I’ll try.” Read, 3:43 AM.  Simon: “Goodnight.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Night. I love you, Dad. ❤️” Read, 3:44 AM.  You: “Hold on, before you go! I have a question.” Read, 3:44 AM. You: “Hello?” Delivered, 3:50 AM.  You: “Simon?” Delivered, 3:55 AM.  You: “Did you fall asleep?” Delivered, 4:01 AM.

You sit in your bed anxiously, not knowing whether you fucked up. You know Simon had a rough past with this father, but you didn’t even think about that when you sent that text. You feel an instant regret wash over you, rereading your messages hundreds of times, hoping Simon will open them. 

Your spiral of uneasiness is interrupted by a hurried knock on the door of your room. You can hear breathing, almost panting, through the door - you immediately know it’s Simon. 

You walk to the door, hesitantly opening it, only to be met by Simon’s bare, tear-stained face, and the whites of his eyes have turned a bright red. You stare at him in shock, only stepping aside to let him in your room. 

You close the door behind you after he enters your accommodation, and you turn to look at him right away. Your eyes meet instantly, and you feel a cloud of shame pour down on you, coating you in an aura of grief. “I’m sorry.” You instantly whisper, and your own eyes sting. “I shouldn’t have… said that.” 

He doesn’t respond, only looking at you as if you’re the only matter in the universe. Everything else has become nonexistent - a vacuum. 

“No.” He sniffles, stepping closer toward you. He had a panic attack right after you called him dad - and you know it. “No.” He repeats, his tears spilling out of his eyes. “Don’t be sorry.” He whispers. He reaches out to you hesitantly, his trembling hands gently gripping your shoulders. He holds them there for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling. 

Before you know it, he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck and weeping quietly into you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him cry. Ever. 

He’s stiff as he embraces you, his shaking body telling you everything you need to know. Your heart breaks for him, resulting in you biting back your tears - you’ve got to be strong for him. But you can’t.

You let your sobs fill the air, your arms wrapping around him to hold him close to you. 

You stay in each other’s embrace, pouring out your emotions for one another. You don’t even dare to speak until Simon has calmed down slightly, his breathing getting slower and softer. 

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kid. More than you know.”

[many-but-one]

Hey, you, person scrolling on tumblr.

It does get better.

I know you hear it all the time, you’re probably sick of hearing it. I know I was when I was going through it. Like yeah, great, it’ll get better in ten years! Doesn’t help me right now, though, when I’m going through mental hell and just wish that death would take my suffering away.

I get it, I’ve been there.

Whether you are actively suicidal and practicing writing your note in your phone’s notes app, whether you’ve attempted and want to attempt again, whether you’re passively suicidal in the “I’m gonna start smoking because I don’t care if it kills me” way or the “I don’t drive with a seatbelt just in case I get in a car wreck and might have my suffering finally ended” way or in the “I don’t look both ways before crossing the street because maybe someone will be speeding and not paying attention and kill me” kind of way.

I’ve been in all of those states before. Many times. I’m writing this because I’m feeling ideation and it’s why I’m writing it. The reason it’s ideation and not action and why I’m not acting is because I know it will pass. I just gotta ride the wave.

It does get better. It doesn’t happen overnight. It can take hard work. Which sucks, because I know you’re tired. You’re bone tired. Soul-deep tired. I know. Hard work sounds like the last thing you wanna do right now, when you wish that every time you slept that you wouldn’t wake up again.

But it’s not the kind of hard work that you have to finish at a certain time. There’s no due-date for wellness. You have plenty of time to get it done, all you have to do is keep showing up.

For some, it’s talk therapy. For some it’s therapy and medication. For some it’s gonna take processing some deep seeded traumas and it’s gonna suck. But it is worth it. It really is.

Currently you are looking through life with sunglasses on. Everything is so, so dark. Even on sunny days when sunglasses can be helpful, you’re still muting the world around you. The colors aren’t vibrant, everything is a dull shade. You step inside and it’s dark. At nighttime, it’s too dark to even see. Eventually you gotta work on taking those sunglasses off. It might seem futile to step outside and take your sunglasses off because you know that you’re just going to put them right back on. But every day you go out and take those sunglasses off even for a minute at a time and really take in everything you’ve been missing, you’ll start leaving them off more. You’ll get to see more things. Do more things. Things you would have totally missed with them on. And eventually you’ll realize that if you had killed yourself, you wouldn’t get to see and do all of these beautiful things you’ve been missing.

I know that analogy makes depression seem like a choice, but hear me out. Sometimes you will need help taking those sunglasses off. Sometimes you will need to take medicine that makes taking the sunglasses off easier. Sometimes you’ll need to talk to your therapist about this dark world you’re seeing, and you know you need to take these glasses off but they are so heavy. Eventually you will gain the skills and the strength can take them off one minute at a time and experience the bright world you’re missing. Sometimes you need that mobility aid that can help you get outside in the first place, that pain medicine that helps you get out of bed to even make it to the door. It can take time to get those things too, and it’s so devastating when it takes so long to get the help you need, but you can’t give up. There is so much beautiful world out there and you deserve to see it.

Rainy days will happen in the midst of the bright and sunny ones, and that’s okay too. Rain is necessary, it keeps the world bright. It makes flowers grow, it nourishes the earth around you. But rainstorms don’t last forever, and neither will this bout of sadness amongst your sunny days. (Talking to you, folks who have been doing well and feel yourself getting bad again. Ride the wave, things will settle down again soon.)

Ten years ago I was sixteen. My first suicide attempt I can recall was when I was eleven. In the last ten years alone I’ve had many, many more. Some were meant to end my life, others were related to my specific circumstances and were meant to cause me harm but not kill me.

I am glad I am here today, at 26. These last six years alone have been some of the most difficult parts of my mental health journey outside of my young childhood. I had to work through some serious trauma. I had to learn how to set boundaries. I had to divorce my wife whom I had thought was good to me but was actually abusing me and I didn’t know it because I didn’t know what a healthy relationship was supposed to be. I had to finish college. I had to come to terms with a physical disability. I had to learn how to be comfortable asking for accommodations. I had to learn to stop fighting my brain and start working with it. I had to learn how to love myself. Every version of myself, even the versions of myself that are small and scared and hurt and want me to die. I had to work on my self esteem. I had to come to terms with cutting out toxic family for good. I had to go to work while I’m doing all of this. I had to find a reason for living every day, even if the reason is so simple as “my cats would wonder where I went if I died.” Even if the reason was “I don’t want my internet friends to wonder why I’m not posting anymore.” And as I started to gain larger followings of people who were rooting for me, it became “I can’t let them down, I have to show them that healing is possible.”

Something I’ve said to a lot of suicidal people who feel bad about telling me that they are only alive because they don’t want to make me sad is this: “if that is what is keeping you alive right now, then good. Whatever keeps you on this earth is important. Because every day that you are here is one more day that you will get closer to being able to live not just for other people, but for yourself.” And I am here to tell you that it is possible to be in a place where you are living because you want to. Where you are living because you are excited for what the future will bring. Where you are joyfully curious to what you can accomplish. Where you will look back on your toughest years and say “shit, if I can get through THAT then I can get through ANYTHING.”

I am 26 years old and I still get suicidal ideation. Usually because of trauma related stuff. Triggers, anniversaries, etc. I am not suicidal every day anymore. I don’t wish for death every time I go to sleep. I love myself. I look at myself in the mirror and even when I’m sleepy headed and bleary eyed with dry ass skin and messed up teeth, I am like “DAMN LOOK AT YOU SUPERSTAR” because gods damn, if I can live through all I’ve lived through already, then I sure as hell can take on just about anything the world can throw at me.

I am in a healthy relationship now. It’s not something I thought was possible. (Seriously, the first time I saw my girlfriend look at me with love in her eyes I almost cried because I’ve never seen a partner look at me that way.) I’m learning how to be a good partner too, and how to set boundaries. I’m still learning how to be a human being. I’m still learning how to speak up when I get mistreated by people at work or out in public. I still get anxiety about leaving the house on occasion.

I’m learning that romantic love and platonic love can be equally deep and rewarding. I love my best friend with all my heart and soul. I love my girlfriend just as much. I’m learning I can have healthy amounts of intimacy with both my friend and my girlfriend, and it doesn’t have to end in a triggered spiral or desperately taking a shower trying to scratch the feeling of skin on skin contact off of me.

I’m learning that grounding methods and distractions are some of the most important tools in my healing toolbox. I’ve learned that sadness and anxiety and emotional pain doesn’t last forever. This post right now is me distracting myself and riding the wave through this triggered feeling I’m working through. I’ve learned that another important tool in my toolbox is hope. Hope that I will get better, hope that my life will not always be one nightmare after another, hope that things will settle down and I’ll be able to breathe again. And maybe have a fancy umbrella drink to celebrate, too. (Inside joke😉)

It will get better. Sometimes all it takes is a scenery change. Other times it takes literally tearing your life apart at the seams and gently stitching it back up into something you want to live. If you are a teenager reading this, you would be shocked at how much better things get when you move out of your parents’ house. If you feel stuck in an abusive situation and there’s no way out, I’m here to remind you that there is always a way out, and there will be people who will help you do so.

And remember, you’re not alone. No matter how unique your situation may be, someone else has either gone through it or is going through it now too. Find a community who is centered on support and healing. Changing your mindset and perspective is important.

You can get better. It takes time, patience, grit, and determination. And you’ve already got all that. I know, because you are here reading this post.

It will be okay. You will be okay. Deep breath.

You got this.

[moonrisecoeur]

soothing - leon kennedy

a/n: (PLEASE READ) hey! this is moon! this post would not show up in the tags with the long and detailed warning i put on it, so i made that a separate post. please read this post first before you even look at this one (that post will have the normal info like what content is it and word count along with more notes).

—

leon knows you’re… obsessive. he’s noticed your harsh glares and you possessively holding his waist when you’re both out together. he doesn’t miss the way you talk to other people, especially other people you know would theoretically be leon’s type. he assures you that he’s yours, he belongs to you, that no one will never get to have him the way you do, but it doesn’t make those feelings go away for you; it only mellows them for a short while.

he can’t say he planned for his partner to be so insanely obsessed with him, but it does make him feel better sometimes. especially when he’s having really rough days. when he feels worthless, like the only purpose of his existence is to be a weapon for the government to apathetically throw at problems, you’re there. you remind him, in your own twisted little way, that he’s valuable to someone. even if it’s in a “i need you like i need oxygen so no one else can ever have you and no one else deserves to lay a finger on you i will cut their hands off if they try” kinda way.

the world is fucked up anyway, who’s to say he gets to judge moral character? you make him feel desired and wanted, so what if you’re not a good person?

he’s rather introverted anyway, so it’s not like he’s going out every night and meeting new people. combine that with low self esteem and trauma from, well, being leon, he’s drained and can’t be bothered to care if you’re a little too obsessed.

hell, his last ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, was with a girl who tricked and betrayed him time after time and yet he loved her despite it all. maybe he has a type for the bad ones.

he loves you now. he knows he loves you. he knew he loved you when you once risked everything to save him, and he knew you loved him when you got very brutal revenge on his behalf. he kinda likes your violent side when it works in his favor.

but he still tries to keep you from doing the worst that he knows you’re capable of. he knows if he said more than a few words, or god forbid smiled at any of his friends who you thought ‘wanted him’ (because why does literally everyone want to fuck him?) you’d lose it. he tries to keep your temper contained, so he plays nice, though it’s worth it to him.

to have someone want him so badly that they’d kill for him and do anything to keep him… the idea makes leon’s knees weak. he’d do anything to feel wanted and needed for you. the more you claim him as yours, marking your territory, the more butterflies he feels in his stomach.

you tell someone, “he’s mine, so either back off or i swear that i will fucking rip out your teeth one by one.” he watches them run away pitifully, before turning his attention back to you. you’re smiling at him, and bring your hand up to play with his hair.

“sorry you had to see that, know you don’t like it,” you say softly.

he brushes it off, because he always does. he knows you mean well (even if you don’t). he knows you only threaten others or act violently because you love him and he needs that love. besides, you’re so thoughtful for apologizing because you know he doesn’t like seeing this side of you (which is not entirely true but he did feel bad for that person).

one day, you stumble upon him in your shared room while he’s crying. he tells you it’s okay, it happens, he’s learned how to get through it by himself. you shake your head, noting that this obviously isn’t okay. you sit next to him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and you two sit like that for just a moment.

“you’re okay,” your voice stills the air, brings him back to reality, “you’re not in danger, and i’m gonna be here to protect you, okay? i’m here because i care about you, so let me care for you, baby.”

he nods with tears in his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s forgotten what it feels like for someone to really care, to hold him and tell him he was going to be alright.

after a moment, he’s able to get his breathing under control.

“thank you…” he whispers.

“of course, baby, i’m here for you. i’m always gonna be here for you, i care about you so, so much, leon. no one else will ever care for you the way i do, as much as i do,” you murmur, and he doesn’t seem to notice something glaringly wrong with what you just said.

he doesn’t notice the thoughts swirling around in your head, adoring how fragile he is right now, wanting him to always be like this so he’s always this vulnerable, this dependent on you. he can’t notice any of it. he just lets you hold him, and holds you back in return.

you hold each other until he starts to pull away first, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand, “god, i- i’m sorry. jeez, nothing even set it off. one minute i- i was fine! and the next…” he trails off, and you tell him he’s okay. he’s allowed to be vulnerable and emotional with you. you like him like this anyway. or maybe you just like the way his blue eyes shine when he cries.

and you’re wayyy too overpowering just as a person for him to ever be in charge, especially in bed. sometimes it’ll be soft, just two lovers touching and fondling each other, gasping and moaning and kissing wherever possible. but sometimes your possessive side comes out. it happens the most when he does something you don’t like, i.e. ‘flirting’ with someone else (he was just talking and joking around).

he does like your possessive side though. he likes being pinned down, and if you think you’re not strong enough, trust me, you can put yourself in the right position to make it so he can’t get out from under you. or you could just handcuff him or tie him up, that always works, but there is just something about being physically held down and kissed until his brain shuts off that makes him into a perfect fucktoy.

he likes when you pull out a marker and write stuff like ‘mine <3’ or ‘property of y/n’ on him. especially if it’s with a permanent marker and in a place that people can easily see, on his wrist or neck. he feels claimed, owned, a sense of being property belonging to someone else, not himself.

despite loving your darkness, leon appreciates that you’re rather… soft on him. you take it slow so he has time to adjust, make his heart jump with love and affection every single time you praise him (which you do often bc how could you not? it’s leon, c’mon now) he knows you have it in you to be harder, to fully degrade and humiliate him if you really wanted to. you choose not to.

one day you come home, covered in what he can assume is not your blood. his stomach drops at the thought of what you did, and he goes through every possible interaction he had that day that could have made you do something so drastic, so terrible and cruel. he comes up with nothing.

“what… happened?” he asks, nervously. he tries to keep distance between his body and yours, but you’re closing in on him.

“killed two birds with one stone… literally…” you smirked as he takes a cautious step back, feeling what used to be butterflies in his stomach turn to this heavy sense of dread, “that girl that told you your eyes were ‘so pretty’ and… that guy that touched your arm like he wanted to fucking bite it. don’t worry, sweetheart. i took care of them.”

were you expecting him to thank you? for… committing murder? he’s… at best he’s disappointed and at worst he’s literally horrified.

and it’s terribly timed, but on a separate note? you look insanely hot covered in blood. maybe the feeling in his stomach is only half fear and half something else, or maybe one of his kinks is being afraid for his life. who knows?

you come closer to him, and he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop approaching him, closing in on him like a predator does it’s prey, “baby,” you murmur to him, softly like you do when you’re soothing him when he’s crying, your hands both coming up to cup his face, getting blood all over his cheeks. your thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he swears you’re intentionally smearing blood on it, “it’s okay,” you say.

it’s not okay, dude. you just killed two people.

maybe you’ve killed more that leon doesn’t know about, and tonight was the night you felt like having him see you like this. you could have gotten away with it if you wanted to, and he would never have known, but you chose to let him find you like this, clothes ruined from how much blood splattered on them, that sadistic ass smile on your face.

you wanted this. you wanted him to see you like this. you wanted to take him like this.

you lean in, pressing a bloody kiss to his forehead (imagine whatever kinda scenario necessary that fits this height wise for u i’m sorry >.<) before leaning in to kiss his lips, both tasting the iron and feeling the wetness of the blood dripping down your chins as he touches you back gently, his hands caressing your arms as you hold him and landing softly on your hips, like he’s saying it’s okay, i accept you for the monster you are.

he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s a good person and you’re not and there’s a clear line that you’ve brazenly crossed, but he can’t help the butterflies he gets when you’re the darkest, cruelest version of you. covered in blood and all, you want him. despite all his flaws, you want him. he can’t deny you, not when you’ve only ever soothed him when he has traumatized breakdowns and assured him that he’s more than just a weapon or a tool, that he’s loved and needed and wanted.

you press one of your legs between his thighs, forcing his legs open and he lets you, whining as you continue to kiss him, and your hand palms him over his jeans. he feels weak, cornered, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him when you lean to whisper in his ear, “mine.” and he whimpers pathetically, nodding fast as you kiss his neck just a couple times, gently and bloodily.

despite everything, you’re just so endlessly gentle with him that he can’t help but let you get away with this. maybe if he could just get the image of their faces out of his head, he could get over it. once you’ve made him cum three times in a row, his body on the brink of giving out on him, safe to say that’s when he finally forgets. he can’t really think much of anything.

“oh, sweet little thing, don’t you understand? i had to get rid of her, she wanted to get in the way of our love,” you say. and he’d just nod dazedly.

“o-okay,” he mumbles. his brain is foggy and your touch makes it hard to think, but if you say it’s true, then he’s inclined to believe you. clearly, you were doing the right thing by getting rid of her. obviously.

“and that poor boy, it’s too bad that he was a whore, wanted to grope your muscles so fucking bad, hm?” you smirk, “did you like it when he did that? when he touched you?”

“n-no, i-i only like when you do stuff like that to me,” he says he exactly what you want to hear, grasping onto you for support, knowing without you he’d fall apart, “please, i don’t care what you do or… or who you hurt because you love me! just please love me!”

“of course i’ll love you,” your tone softens, you take the victory with a smirk turned soft smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes behind his ear, “you’re so pretty when you’re obedient.”

conditional praise; truly the best way to manipulate him for example: “you’re such a good boy when you only look at me.” that’s his kryptonite, because leon thrives off of praise. being told he’s a good boy makes him giddy on the inside, even if he tries to control his reaction. praise is how you control him.

and after you’re done with him, you put your clothes in the washing machine, take a shower, and walk out like your normal self. he makes you both dinner and you cuddle him to sleep just like usual. though while you’re fast asleep, he lays awake, thinking about what just happened.

he’s always known this could happen, and maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve killed someone because of him. he’s known for a while now that you’ve become cruel and violent when it came to his relationships with other people, but he can’t shake the feeling of fear deep inside his soul when he physically saw what you’re capable of.

even in your sleep, you touch is soothing to him, and he remembers that he doesn’t really have any better options. he’s convinced no one will ever love him as strongly as you do (not just because you’ve told him that but because again, he’s got low self esteem and you’re way nicer to him than he feels like he deserves).

does he just let you be? no, that wouldn’t sit right on his conscious. does he continue to try and curb your violent tendencies against his better judgement and morals?

or does he try to leave you? he thinks he knows you wouldn’t ever truly hurt him, and he wonders whether or not you’d let him leave if he tried. (he’s not going to, but he wonders...) he just… doesn’t see what else he would do. find someone else? they won’t love him like you do. be single? sure, and be miserable every day because all he can think about is your love, your touch, you.

“what do i do with you…” he mumbles to your sleeping form, resting his head against your chest, feeling the slow heartbeat pumping inside. he likes how it shows your humanity, your normalcy. the one thing about you that doesn’t feel so far away from him.

leon loves you. truly. he doesn’t want that fact to be overshadowed by how disproportionately and insanely you love him. he loves you, still cares about you, still wants to see you happy. you make him happy, in some ways, even if you really terrify him in others. you comfort him and soothe him, you assure him that he’s safe with he wakes up with nightmares from the horrors he’s seen.

he wants to care for you, wants to be the one to hold you when you’re sad and you’re having a bad day. somewhere deep inside his heart, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. even if he knows that’s absurd (because you’re a killer… god he can’t get over that..) he can’t help that his nature is to care for people. maybe that’s what drove you to such insanity in your love for him: in his heart, he never stopped caring about other people. he is the same selfless hero he always was. his softness and care for everyone around him is what made you fall for him… and what made you insane when it comes to your love for him.

despite how terrible you are, he remembers all that you’ve done for him, the moments where your softness and gentleness really showed. he loves that side of you the most. that’s the one he fell for, after all. but he’d be amiss to think that’s the only side of you, or to not acknowledge the other. your cruelty towards people other than him is a side of you just like your kindness towards him is a side of you. they coexist whether he likes it or not.

he comes to the conclusion that there is no sweet you without cruel you, and he must learn to love both or to love neither. he decides he’ll love both, but still maybe try to keep the evilness contained. maybe he can try to talk you out of killing more people.

and when he begs so pretty for you to focus on him and not on the girl trying to flirt with him at the coffee shop, how could you refuse him? if you pulling him away to suck dark, tender hickeys into his neck is the alternative to you killing that poor girl, then he’d say that’s a win-win.

[igotanidea]

Father's day present : dad!Jason Todd x mum!reader

I'm so in love with this graphic UwU.

Requested by @parkjammys: sweet Jason fluff of him and his girls celebrating his first Father's Day, and although his baby girl is only a like year old she just knows her mum is giving dad kisses and copies her. (hope this will lift your spirits a bit, candice :) )

This is just purest form of fluff. Get your tissues ready.

***

„Who’s my little sunshine?” Y/N cooed standing above the cradle watching her 1 year old daughter with a bright smile and yet, slightly wet eyes.

God!

If a year ago someone told her, that despite all the vigilantism she will have a kid with Jason, she would simply laugh at that person face.

But now? Now, she was the happiest woman on earth. She had an amazing partner and a child, both of whom she loved with all her heart. And it was even better since it was fully reciprocated.

“Gagagaga” d/n babbled, putting her little fingers in her mouth, laughing at her mother’s funny face, looking just so adorable.

“Oh, my little one” Y/N reached inside and her daughter immediately extended her tiny arms, ready to be lifted and hugged. “Who’s mummy’s daughter?” Y/N rubbed d/n nose, getting another giggle “You are. Yes, you are. Oh, I love you so much, peanut” the girl kissed the top of her daughter head, rubbing her back and holding her tightly to her chest. “And your daddy loves you too. And why we speak of your dad, we have a very special day today, you know….”

“Dada, dada, dada…..”

“Yes, honey. Dada. That’s right.” Y/N sighed “It’s Jay’s first father’s day and we are both going to make sure it’s special for him. God knows, how much he had to go through to get just a bit of happiness with us.”

“Dada!” d/n crowed again, squirming in her mother’s arm as apparently she saw something behind. At first, Y/N got scared that some assassin broke into the house and were to attack, hurt or kidnap them both, giving Jace another trauma instead of a happy father’s day (can you blame her considering the past experience?), but it was just the talk of the devil.

“Well, hello to you two my lovely daughter and her equally lovely mother.” Jason smiled brightly, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, honey.” Y/N whispered taking a moment to appreciate him being safe and healthy, not bruised, bloodied, scared or bleeding. Despite the fact that he didn’t fully give up on his vigilantism, he was far more careful during patrols. He knew what he had to loose. And that little moments, where they could just be a normal family, laughing and spending time together were everything for Y/N.

“How was my troublemaker today?” Jason took a step forward, leaning over and pecking Y/N’s forehead “did you get some time for yourself?”

“Just a bit. But you know, d/n is definitely father’s daughter” Y/N let out a chuckle “quicksilver. Gotta keep an eye on her cause otherwise….”

“Oh, I know what can happen. Do you need rest, love?”

“No, not really” the girl shook her head “I rest best knowing I have you two with me. But. Since it’s your celebration, we got a little gift for you. Can you take her so I can bring it?” Y/N handed the daughter to Jace who grabbed her tightly and did a little helicopter in the air, making funny sounds and entertaining his little girl. And to think that he was the one worried he would be a bad father.

He was the best.   

“Wait, you said my celebration?” he frowned  a bit, confused “it’s not my birthday or anything like that so what….?

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you forgot” Y/N yelled from the other room and soon came back holding a small paper bag “It’s father’s day, obviously.”

“Oh.” Jason’s eyes grew wide. His very first father’s day. The second that thought hit him, his eyes watered a bit. There was still this little, vicious voice inside, that sometimes told him that he did not deserve any of this. That after everything he did, he should not ever interfere with anyone’s life. That no matter how hard he would try, one or both of his girl will end up getting hurt because of him.

“Jace….” Y/N quickly approached him, cupping his cheek, recognizing all the signs of his doubts and memories and impending mental breakdown “Jason, baby, look at me.” He listened, his eyes focusing on her pretty face “I love you.” she simply said “your daughter loves you. We need you, baby. The past is in the past, what you did or who you were does not define you, you hear me? That was not you.”

“thank you….” he whispered “it’s just…. a lot.”

“I know, love, but you are not alone. Hell, you should know by now you will never be. You got us. You got family, Jason.”

“I love you both.”

“We know.” Y/n smiled and stood on her tiptoes, capturing Jason’s lips in hers quickly, pulling away way too soon for his liking. So taking the initiative, adjusting his grip on his daughter, he wrapped his other hand around the mother, pulling her back.

“I’m not done with you.” he mumbled, leaning forehead on hers.

“Really?” Y/N smiled, pecking his right cheek and then left and then his nose, giggling.

“Still not enough.” he connected their mouths again, kissing her with all the love and passion he felt. Jason was not good with words, especially with the big ones, but his actions and his gestures were the best expression of them and Y/N learned that through the years they were together.

“Jason!” the girl squealed and pulled away the second she felt his hand sneak under her T-shirt “Not in front of our daughter! And not now!”

“Later than?” his eyes became a bit darker as he watched the blush creeping on Y/N’s cheek. At this point answer wasn’t even necessary. “Besides.” He continued as d/n started wriggling a bit “I don’t think our grig mind us being all touchy-feely towards each other.”

“What do you…?” Y/N started, but as her gaze landed on her daughter she couldn’t hold back a laugh. D/N put her little arms on Jason’s shoulder for some balance as she leaned forward pressing her little, soft lips against his cheek leaving a wet mark. And then she giggled and repeated the action two more times.

“mamamamama”

“Oh yes, that’s right. That’s what mummy does to make daddy feel better” Jason whispered, heart clenched with all the feelings “guess she got her observational skills and intelligence from you, Y/N. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making this the best father’s day I could ever imagine.”

“You didn’t even open your present yet…..” Y/N pointed out.

“You both are my presents. I just want to be with you and hold you. Is that ok?” he whispered.

“Sure, Jason. As long as you want.”

“Perfect.” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, minds wandering in some places only he knew. “But I still get to open that bag, right?” it only took him a  minute to get back to his smug attitude he didn’t lose during the years.

“Sure, babe. We definitely have a no return policy when it comes to any present.”

[jensengirl83]

Heart Of Stone

Dean x reader

Word Count- 1630

Warnings- Angst, Self-loathing Dean (yes, that's a warning 😂), A little fluff

A/N- This fills my "Unexpected Touch" square for @jacklesversebingo

Dean woke with a start, his body and pajamas drenched in sweat. Another nightmare, another sleepless night. You’d think with everything he’s seen in his life, he’d be used to them. But, he has to take deep breaths and try to still his racing heart every time, ground himself to keep from panicking. He hates it. Hates how, after all these years, his fears still plague him. 

This dream was different than the usual nightmares. It wasn’t the faces of all the people he couldn’t save or the monsters that had tried to end him. No, this one was worse. It was about her, and those are the worst. He can handle the trauma that comes with his job and take the guilt and sadness that comes with it, calm himself, and push it down. But, when it comes to the nightmares about her, he can’t. 

Y/N had carved her way into his heart the last few months, whether he wanted her to or not. She meant so much to him. Just the thought of her smiling face or the brightness in her eyes when she spoke to him always calmed his nerves. Hell, who’s he kidding? She soothed his soul. But she would never know that. She couldn’t. Dean wasn’t the kind of man that deserved a woman as good as her. As much as he wanted to be selfish, open himself up to her, let her in, and let her start to heal him, he wouldn’t. She didn’t deserve to be dragged down by his self-loathing, insecurities, or the inevitable misery that would come with being with him. No, as much as he wanted to be a man she deserved, a man worthy of her love, he wasn’t and never would be. So, as with everything thing else, he’ll push his feelings down and bury them deep. 

As he sat on his bed, back against the headboard, his mind swirling with all the negative thoughts, a soft knock on his door made him jump. He would know that sound anywhere. It was Y’N’s knock. Yes, he had it so bad for her that he could differentiate her knuckles on his door from everyone else’s. He sighed, running his hand down his face, and tried to calm himself before she entered his room. 

“Come in,” his shaky voice echoed through the silence. 

“I thought I heard you scream. Are you okay?” she asked as she peeked around the door. Her hair falling around her face out of her messy bun made him smile softly. Damn, she was beautiful. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” 

“Why don’t I believe you?” she smirked, walking into the room and putting her hand on her hip. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. She always saw right through him, which made her more endearing and infuriated him simultaneously. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going anywhere, so he might as well tell her the truth. Well, half-truth. She didn’t need to know that he had a nightmare about her. How he had allowed himself to have her, just to watch her die bloody.

“I had a bad dream. Nothing to worry about. You can go back to bed.” 

“Dean…” she sighed, walking over to sit beside him, taking his big hand in hers, “You do know you can talk to me. You don’t always have to go through everything alone. It’s okay to let someone be there for you every now and then.” 

“I know, but I’m fine. Honestly,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, the tell-tell crinkles by his eyes not there. She knew he was faking it, and she wasn’t leaving until he talked to her. He was always there for everyone he cared about, shouldering the majority of everything, and he deserved to be cared for this time. 

“Let me take care of you for once. You don’t have to be the tough guy all the time,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek in her small hand, caressing it with her thumb as her other hand entwined with his. 

His breath caught in his throat, heart racing, as he stared at her. The unexpectedness of her soft touch had surprised him, thrown him off guard, and he was frozen. His head and his heart were in a battle with each other. His mind telling him to back away, to leave now, and to end it before it can go any further. On the other hand, his heart screamed at him to stay, pull her to him, kiss her, and tell her how much he loved her. Casting his eyes down, he tried to decide whether to run or remain where he was when she spoke. 

“Dean, look at me,” she pleaded, and when he didn’t look up, she slid her hand from his cheek to his chin, lifting his face to look him in the eyes. 

“Y’N, don’t, please,” he whimpered, his willpower slowly chipping away as she stared at him, the longing in her eyes breaking his heart. Because all he wanted was her, to take her in his arms, but he couldn’t. She deserved so much more than a man like him could ever give her. 

“No, Dean, you don’t. If I’m wrong, please correct me, but I’ve seen how you look at me. How your eyes follow me when I’m in the room, the longing in them when you think I’m not looking. I know this because that’s how I look at you. If you haven’t noticed, I want you, and I think you want me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling with the anxiousness of how he would respond. She doesn’t know if she can handle his rejection. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” 

“Yes, it does, Dean. It matters just as much as what everyone else wants. You deserve happiness, too.” 

“I’m not a good man, sweetheart-” he began to speak, but she cut him off.

“That’s bullshit! You’re the best man I know!” she shouted, her frustration with his self-doubt spilling out.

“It’s not. You want the truth? I hate what I see when I look in the mirror; hate the man that’s staring back at me. You see these hands?” he lifted his hands, turning them around for her to see, “They’ve killed people, Y/N. There’s a dark side to me. You’re telling me that’s a man you want to be with? Because you deserve more, so much more.” 

“Dean…” she whimpered, his words breaking her heart. How could he not see what everyone else sees? “First, you don’t get to decide what I want or deserve. And second, you want to know what I see when I look at you? I see a man who raised his little brother to be an incredible man. I see a man who puts everyone above him, no matter what, always putting himself last to make sure everyone else is taken care of. And these hands, all I see are hands that are cut, calloused, and scarred because he puts himself in danger daily to make sure others are safe, people who will never even know what he sacrifices for them. I don’t see that as a bad man,  Dean. I see a man who deserves more than he will ever believe he does, and if you will let me, I want to be the one to prove it to you. You’re an amazing man, Dean. Please stop selling yourself short of what you want, and especially what you deserve. And that Dean Winchester is the world, and I want to give that to you.”

“I can’t, Y/N. I can’t. What if something happened to you because you were with me? What if my nightmares come true?” he choked on his words, the thought of losing her bringing tears to his eyes. 

“Is that what you dreamt? That something happened to me?” she asked softly, placing her hand back on his cheek. He nodded as he leaned into her touch, finally allowing himself to feel and enjoy how her palm held him just right as a tear finally escaped and rolled down his face. 

“That’s why I can’t. I couldn’t make it if something happened to you.” 

“Dean, something could happen to me going to the grocery store, a hunt, or I could slip and crack my head open taking a shower,” she chuckled. 

“That’s not funny,” he grumbled, turning further into her touch. 

“It’s the truth. Anything could happen to either of us at any time. So, why would you let that stop us from having what we want? Why not enjoy what time we do have together?” 

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship, Y/N. The one time I tried, it blew up in my face.” 

“Then how about we learn together? We’ll take it slow. Learn how to let go of our fears, the things we can’t change, and love each other the way that works for us,” she smiled, leaning in to gauge his reaction, and when he didn’t pull away, she pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. A kiss to let him know that she was and would always be there and would take care of him how he deserved to be. 

And that night would be the beginning of something wonderful that he had never thought he could ever have. A relationship with a woman who loved him for him and accepted him and all his flaws. Over time, she had done what he thought was impossible. She had broken through and shattered the walls he had around what he thought was a heart of stone. 

@flamencodiva @foxyjwls007 @valsworldofcreativity @hardcoresupernaturalfans @msmarvelouswinchester @lyarr24 @akshi8278 @hobby27 @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @xhannahbananax03 @coffeebooksandfandom @deans-baby-momma @lovelyrocker @fablesrose @maralisa124 @aimee-ginge @donnaintx @screechingartisancashbailiff @itsdesiree86 @kyjey @roxytheimmortal @briagallen @aubageddon91 @stoneyggirl2 @kitkatd7 @brilovesdeanwinchester @allonsy-yesiwill @krazykelly @rebelemilu @sarahbaker2010 @tyferbebe @metalfangirl @redbarn1995 @thoughts-and-funnies @izzathequeen @heavensangel45135 @entersand-man @supraveng @bobbie3939 @pink-sparkly-witch @thelastpyle @nancymcl @samsgirl93​​​ @maliburenee​​ @marvelouslyme96​​ @senjoritanana

[sundew199]

Never Lose Me snippets

In honor of my Post-Rumbling Fic being completed, I wanted to put together some of my favorite moments/snippets from each chapter because I love it so much and I've become extremely attached to it. This is probably some of my best writing and I'm super proud of it. This is only the first ten chapters and I'll probably make a part two, just so this isn't ridiculously long.

Warnings/tags: mentions of suicide in chapter one's snippet. Postpartum depression implied in Chapter 10's snippet. This is a f!reader x reiner fic, the story is centered around Reiner creating a building a family with you post-rumbling.

Chapter One: A journal entry from one of Reiner's journals after he attempted, something you were unaware of and stumbled upon:

"I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror, want to vomit when I catch a glimpse of what I am, who I was and what I’ll never be. I don’t deserve anything, I deserve to die, rot away in a nameless grave for all that I’ve done. I’m not a good person, I’m the epitome of everything opposite. 

I should be dead, I don’t know why I hesitated on blowing my head off. I guess it's because I couldn’t get her face out of my head, her eyes and how’d I rip everything she holds dear if I went through with it. An early death wouldn’t be so different from when I pass on the armor, I can’t be with her forever. Then again that’s what I deserve. She deserves better, deserves a man who doesn’t recoil at his own image and cries himself to sleep as memories flash repeatedly at night. 

I can’t allow myself to be selfish anymore, even if I so badly want to spend the rest of my life with her, as unrealistic as it sounds. She’ll live to old age and I’ll die at 25 and become nothing but a faded memory to her. I have so many regrets, more than I can count on two hands, but I think my biggest one was going through with the warrior program and signing my life away when I could’ve spent it with her. 

I’d give anything to wake up next to her in our own house, with kids running around in the early morning begging for us to get up and make them breakfast. I’d fucking break through wall Maria all over again if it meant I could have that. 

I’ll love her till my last breath even knowing her love for me will fade over time. "

His reassurance after you stumbled upon the journal and read what he wrote: "Reiner could see the hurt written across your face and saw how you took his explanation. Even if you knew just you alone wouldn’t be enough for him to mend the wounds that were his trauma, it hurt hearing how he wanted to give up. You were glad he didn’t but it stung as if he did. 

“Hey look at me.” Gently guiding you back to face him, thumbs brushing away the stray tears that ran down the old ones dried to your face. “If it weren’t for you and putting so much faith in me I wouldn’t be standing here in this kitchen. You’ve been the grounding force all my life, my reason to keep going, my reason to be better than who I was. I owe you who I am right now and I thank the universe every single day that we crossed paths, everyday sweetheart.”

The tremble in your bottom lip increased by a ten fold, allowing yourself to go limp in his hands for him to catch you, wrapping you in the familiar embrace that was him. You needed him as much as he needed you, bound together smoothly and seamlessly to always be the salve to each other's wounds, the reminder that it will get better. 

Time carried on in the kitchen, calming yourself in his arms with your face pressed to his chest. There was no urgency on his end, allowing you all the time to let everything out. When you pulled away, he smoothed the sides of your face from any remaining tears, pecking your lips."

Chapter Two: Proposing to you.

"His hand came to cup the side of your face, turning you in for a kiss. You smiled into it, placed your palm on the nape of his neck and stood on your tiptoes to meet him properly. The kiss turned into several, languid and deep, all laced with the love so strongly intertwined into your beings. Reiner pulled away, pecked your lips twice more and embraced you. 

“You are my everything, my other half.” Pulling away, running his hands up and down your arms. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, words he wanted to speak turning his throat dry with emotion. “I can’t ever tell you how happy you make me, how lucky I am that my love for you wasn’t unrequited. You are my angel, sent to me when the universe knew I needed you most, without you sweetheart I wouldn’t be standing here, sharing this moment with you.” 

He smiled bashfully, pulling his arms away and shoving one of his hands into the pocket where the ring box was, clutching it tightly. He warmed under your expression to his words, the soft smile creasing your red cheeks. Ignoring the constant flipping of his stomach, the dryness in his throat and sweat beading on his neck, Reiner began again, lowering down to one knee. Instantly you gasped, hands over your mouth and your body shaking with near instant tears that hadn’t fallen yet. 

“From the moment I met you on that sidewalk in Liberio, when I was ten years old I knew I had to find some way to make sure you would be in my life. Even when I thought I wouldn’t live to see thirty, I still wanted to marry you, wanted to share a life with the woman who became the other half of my heart.” His voice shook, laughing cumbersomely and finally bringing out the ring box from his pocket. 

You were sobbing before him, stifling your tears of happiness as best as you could. Reiner’s entire body trembled as he fought to find the next words to go along with the famous four. 

“There is nothing else in this world that I have ever been so sure of, what was once a hopeless dream that I knew I had to make a reality when I was given a second chance, a second chance with you and to make the most of this life and cherish you like you deserve.” Pausing, Reiner blinked the few tears that escaped, opening the top of the box to reveal the ring he spent so much of his time fussing over. 

“Which is why I brought you out here tonight, to ask you a very important question sweetheart. Will you marry me?”

Chapter Three: His Doubts on Fatherhood:

"Saying that outloud was a lot for him at that moment, a vague statement that held layers upon layers beneath it. Reiner knew his most inner insecurity was failing as a partner and now add father to that list and he was a mess with unrationalized thoughts about what could or couldn’t go wrong. Not having a dad growing up and seeking out said father and finding out he had nothing to do with him rewired him that day. Reiner didn’t want for one second that his future son or daughter felt unwanted by him, to not see the lengths he went to to make sure they were loved and cherished by him, that they were all he could’ve asked for. He knew the nursery not being done when they arrived wouldn’t matter to a newborn baby, but it mattered to him. 

“Why’s that?” Came your tentative voice, one of your hands resting over his hand and your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inside of his wrist. 

“Because I want them to feel appreciated and wanted before they arrive, to know that I want them in my life and that I’m excited to be their dad. I know a newborn baby isn’t going to know or comprehend any of that so I guess it’s more for me, to make up for what I didn’t have.” 

He wanted to cringe at how selfish that sounded, but he was telling you the truth. This baby would never experience what it felt like to be unwanted, to go to the farthest lengths to earn approval from him. Reiner would die before he ever allowed his children to feel an ounce of what he felt growing up. Finishing the nursery may have been seen as something not as important to anyone else, but to him it was the first step to being anything but what his mother and father were to him. 

“Reiner. This baby is already so loved. I know how important all of this is to you, but I feel like you’re trying to prove something to me as well, which you don’t have to.” 

Tears were burning at the corners of his eyes, blinking rapidly so he wouldn’t embarrass himself over crying in the kitchen over old buried trauma. Frustration simmered inside him often when he felt the weight of old wounds resurface after so many years, so sure that he’d healed from it at this point. Even with your constant reminders that healing was never linear and that it was okay, Reiner at times felt pathetic for letting it affect him like it did. 

“I just want to be a good dad, I’m scared that I’ll get in my own head and fail and be like my dad and I don’t want that. Even though I’ve wanted kids and I’m so excited, it’s overwhelming sweetheart.” A thumb came to brush the tear that slid down his cheek, inhaling a shaky breath and shuffling his weight on his feet. Reiner hated that this was overwhelming when it’s all he’d ever wanted. Grappling with new emotions and situations was never his strong suit and he hated that about himself sometimes, he wished it were easier to carry the stress of an impending arrival such as this one, but by god he was overwhelmed and scared and channeling that into working and finishing the nursery along with various other things for you and the baby. 

Chapter Four: After his daughter is born:

"A quick glance over to him and Reiner was crying, holding Maisie just under his chin and repeatedly kissing the crown of her head. Her fists were curled tightly to his shirt, holding onto Reiner as if she knew it would comfort him. Seeing your fiance so emotional at such random had the all too familiar lump forming in your throat. 

“I’m sorry - it just feels like I’ve been dreaming, that I’m going to wake up back in warrior barracks in Liberio.” Choking out on a whisper, tipping his head back so the tears wouldn’t roll down his cheeks too quickly. A smaller hand that belonged to you, landed over his that was cradling Maisie to his chest, offering your presence. “I don’t know why I’m having the sudden realization now that this is real when she’s six weeks old I- fuck sweetheart this is real right, I’m not going to wake up.” 

A quiver began in your bottom lip hearing the plea in his tone, like he was so afraid this would all fade from existence, slip from his fingers as he tried to hold on. Forming the words of reassurance were a struggle, mouth running try as you mouth silent words to a response. That seems to prompt a further reaction from him, blinking rapidly and forcing a smile, pulling you tighter to him. 

“Yes, this is…this is real Reiner, you're not going to lose this. You’re going to wake up in your bed in the home you built, next to me and next to your daughter.” Finally managing to say a few words, though your voice was so strained from keeping the tears at bay you feared he might’ve not heard you. 

His head bobbed in understanding, pressing his lips to the crown of Maisie’s hair and squeezing his eyes shut. What once was a broken, scarred man who convinced himself he was worthy of nothing but an early death, sat beside you a man who couldn’t be more grateful for the life he had, the life he swore would never come to fruition. Reiner inhaled sharply, lifting his head up and back to take in a few deep breaths. 

“I mean it when I saw you’re the greatest thing that’s happened to me, you’ve given me a family sweetheart, made me a father and will make me your husband. You and Maisie are my entire world, my entire purpose.” His hand came to cradle the back of your head, looking at you with glossy eyes that swirled with endless amounts of love and appreciation for the impact you had on his life. Tears were falling down both of your cheeks, Reiner wiping the one he could with his thumb and letting out a few laughs, amused that his uncontainable emotions were bringing you both to tears. Maisie remained unfazed on his chest, sleepily blinking back at you, bringing a tender smile to your lips.

“I’d choose you all over again if I had to, every single time sweetheart.” Sealing his words with a tentative kiss, allowing it to linger even if it was only meant to be short, swiping his thumb over your cheek once more for added adoration. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing it to you so you could plant a kiss on his palm."

Chapter Five: A conversation you had with Pieck about her grief post-rumbling and planning for a wedding:

“Perfect, she can help us with the wedding planning, maybe wait till she’s old enough so she can be a little flower girl.” 

Warmly you smiled at Pieck, touched that she wanted to involve Maisie in her wedding. She’d make the cutest flower girl for sure, steal the show from the new couple by accident, but Jean or Pieck wouldn’t care, Maisie couldn’t help it. 

“How is the wedding planning going?” 

“It’s…it’s a work in progress. Jean and I are so busy half of the time there’s barely any time to discuss. I know he for sure wants to try and have it back in Paradis.” 

“Really? How do you feel about that?” 

A shift in emotions crossed her face, weakly giving you that somber smile. Pieck was guarded, a lot more since the rumbling, losing everything like everyone else did, but also losing so much more at the same time. 

“I’m really not sure. His parents are back in Paradis so of course I understand that, but my dad is buried here and so is…everyone else.” 

Your heart clenched, remembering the day you attended the small funeral for Mr.Finger and not too long after helping with the small grave sight for the friends who never got to see the end of the war. Marcel, Porco, Bertholdt and Colt all had headstones made in commemoration, not too far from the town hall. Reiner, Annie and Pieck visited often, as did you before Maisie. Though small and something dear to the four of you, the gesture and connection was there. 

“I’m sure Jean understands.” 

“I haven’t mentioned it.” 

“Pieck…” 

She sighed, tapping her nails on the table and looking around the cafe. You had a feeling you knew why she hadn’t mentioned it to Jean, the almost relationship she had with Porco and the time it took for her to accept his death. Like Reiner, there was a weight that crashed down after the rumbling, the weight of losing everything and realizing you'll never get to see some people ever again. 

“I know I should, but I don’t want him to take it the wrong way.” 

“How would he take it the wrong way?” Questioning her gently, careful not to pry too much into her relationship. Maisie smacked at the table, innocently unaware of the heavy emotions hovering between you and Pieck. 

“I don’t know, I’m probably overthinking this. I just wanted to get married here, because… I want our friends to see us get married.” 

Anguish of a different kind came over you, reaching for Pieck’s hand and lightly squeezing it. The tonnage of losing people you considered family would never go away, shadowing over happy and joyful events that were intended for celebration. You felt a little bit of it after Maisie was born, wishing Bertholdt were here to meet his best friend's daughter. Reiner never said, but you knew.

“Talk to Jean about it, it’s your wedding too and I have a strong feeling he’ll understand and the two of you will come to a compromise.” 

The small signature smile came from her, nodding softly and squeezing your hand back finally."

Chapter Six: the aftermath of your daughter turning one:

"When he returned, you waited for him, curling into his chest when his arms came around you. The attempts to lull you to sleep with the gentle motions of his hand rubbing up and down began to work until you shifted and reached for your book. Instead of grabbing it from the drawer of your nightstand, your fingers grasped the soft fabric of something, pulling it out to reveal the baby blanket you brought Maisie home from the hospital in. You’d put it in there a long time ago so you’d never lose it, a small keepsake from when she was a newborn. 

Bottom lip trembling seeing how small the fabric was, instantly reminding you that at one point she was that small. You sniffled and let out a sob, clutching it to your chest and curling back into Reiner. He called your name repeatedly, confused by the sudden turn around of events. 

Finally, looking at him through the tears you spoke.

“She was so little, Reiner she was so little. What happened?” 

Unable to see the relieved smile on his face as you’d buried yours in his chest, Reiner bit back the little chuckle and squeezed you close. He held you while you cried, the emotions of your baby turning one crashing down all at once. If you knew all it took was looking at the blanket she came home in, then maybe you would’ve done this earlier, get all the emotions out beforehand. 

Pulling you away, Reiner wiped your tears and let out a sigh. His face read of endearing smugness, the kind when he knew eventually all your worries would be solved. Part of you felt as if he was simply waiting for a moment like this, knowing it was bound to come. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“No?! Our baby is one, I feel sick.” 

He laughed then, hauling you into his lap and using his hand to tuck your head under his chin, rocking you as if you were Maisie, which actually turned out to be kind of soothing. 

“It’s only going to get worse from here.” 

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” Sarcastically sniffling, rolling your eyes even if he couldn’t see. 

Kissing the top of your head, a mischievous chuckle rumbled in his throat, already knowing he was just going to continue to add on. 

“She’ll start talking in full sentences. Eventually waking us up in the middle of the night to crawl into bed with us.” 

“Stooop.” Whining on top of him, purposely interrupting his ramblings for the sake of your emotional stability. 

“Then she’ll be begging you to put bows in her hair, braid it and style it how you want. Insist on following you around everywhere, turning into a mini you.” 

“She’s already growing so fast, she walked for the first time all by herself today.” 

Unable to help the small sniffle and tears once you remember Maisie hit another milestone today, Reiner paused for a moment, bringing you up to look at him. His eyes were misty, the attempt to pester you backfired. 

“Yeah, but she’ll always be our little girl, our Maisie.” Whispering and fighting the tremble in his bottom lip with a weak smile. 

Thumbing over the quivering lip, you pressed a small kiss to his lips, curling back into him with your face pressed into the side of his neck."

Chapter Seven: Yours and Reiner's wedding vows.

Reiner's to you: "Instead of reaching for the cards stuffed in his pocket, his head dipped in one final composure of his emotions before looking back up to meet you in the eye. 

“From the moment I met you sixteen years ago it was love at first sight, even if ten year old me didn’t exactly know what that was, I can guarantee it was. When I had to leave for Paradis the first time all those years ago, I promised myself I would make it back, not for Marley or the brass but for you. I didn’t have a grasp on why my heart yearned for you all those years away, but I finally understood when I saw you standing there on that dock, meeting me in each other's arms.” His voice shook further and further with every word he spoke, noticing the two tear stains on your cheeks. Sucking in a deep breath, Reiner kissed your knuckles and continued. 

“You didn’t have to care for me the way you did when I returned, didn’t have to reassure a broken man who saw himself so unworthy in his own eyes, didn’t have to stay up late with me all those nights when I couldn’t sleep, but you did. You showed me unconditional love and understanding after five years apart, never judged when at the time that was all I felt deserving of. You mended the broken pieces of my heart and soul with your attentive care, brought the light back into my dark life, helped me push through each day. You were my second chance at life, my reason to keep going even when I thought living to my thirties was never going to happen. So when I saw you again in Fort Salta, I promised myself to be the man you deserve, be the father our daughter deserves, because there aren’t enough words to express how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how you shape this heart of mine, I never want to leave this world without saying I love you.” 

Yours to Reiner: "The faint sniffles from the friends and family watching on was nothing but a buzz in his ears, training his eyes on yours and watching the emotion swirl. Reiner kissed your hands one last time, holding them between your bodies and waiting for you to speak. When you were composed enough, you let out a little laugh with the tremble in your lip. 

“Crossing paths with you changed my life forever, even if our first encounter was brief. I will admit I never understood the infatuation you had for me, why you pestered me endlessly and always ended up by my side. When I dropped out of the program, I was scared I wouldn’t get to see you again, but of course you made it a point to walk with me to and from the headquarters, even if it potentially made you late to training. I realized my crush for you right before you left, feeling so blindsided and wondering if I’d ever get to see the bright blonde boy who loved to point out the butterflies on our walks home again.” 

Your hands shook in his, Reiner quickly seeing the turn of your emotions for what you were about to say next, bracing himself for the tears that were building in his waterline and the lump rising in his throat. 

“When you did return, I was so happy to have my best friend back, so excited to mess around like before you left, but I realized that boy was buried deep inside you. I knew you weren’t lost completely even though some nights spent in your apartment I questioned if there was a light at the never ending tunnel. I never had any concrete reasoning for staying by your side when you returned, just wanting you to be okay and scared I would lose the one person who made my heart flutter when I saw them. I know you feel as if you’ll never truly be the man I deserve and I want to tell you that you’re wrong. You’ve always been a man worth loving, a man worth a life full of happiness and health, worthy of a family and friends who see you for who you are. You’ve always been the other half of my heart before I even realized it and I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not be able to tell you how much I love you.” 

Chapter eight: Yours and Reiner's daughter feeling her younger sibling kick for the first time.

"Smiling at the following question, Maisie crawled over your leg to get to Reiner, climbing onto him like a tree and poking next to the corner of his eye. You watched as he praised her for the correct answers and the gentle correction at the wrong ones. Reiner went over the features of his face until he started to point to different ones and wait for her to respond. And Maisie did flawlessly, still working on some of the pronunciations but both of you knew what she was trying to say. 

“Baby.” 

Your daughter had rotated her head in your direction, pointing at your stomach. Reiner shared a look of awe with you, neither of you had mentioned that often there was a baby in your stomach but Maisie knew and both of you were a little shocked to say the least. 

“That’s right, there's a baby in Mommy’s tummy.” Patting the center of your abdomen as you confirmed her observation. Even though Maisie had just pointed it out, she looked a little perplexed, moving to sit between you and Reiner, staring at your stomach. 

Lifting the hem of your shirt until the small bump was revealed, you rested your hand at the crown, watching your daughter's eyes widen in even more fascination. Like she was scared something was to happen, Maisie reached her tiny hand out and rested it on the side of your stomach. Eyes blinking so slowly as her mind turned with pondering, working out the complexities of your pregnancy that she now suddenly became aware of. 

A flutter rippled under your hand, barely noticeable at first but when the action repeated your eyes widened. If you were correct, the baby just kicked for the first time, and patiently you waited to see if they would do it again. 

“Reiner.” 

“Hm?” Taking his eyes off of Maisie to see what you wanted, having to balance his weight quickly as you grabbed his wrist to place his hand where yours was. At first he questioned what you were doing until he felt the tiny kick. The air in his throat hitched, body completely frozen as he waited for the baby to do it again. Maisie had been watching you two, not sure why your eyes were wide and bodies so still, so she moved her hand next to Reiner’s, feeling left out. 

Instantly, your husband guided her hand to where his once was, placing his comically larger one over Maisie’s and waiting on bated breath for the baby to hopefully kick just one more time. It would be an experience for your daughter, feeling her sibling kick in the womb in her presence and you hoped they would cooperate. 

Sighing in relief when the kick came, Maisie jolted a little, unsure of what that was, looking back at Reiner for answers. 

“That’s your brother or sister Mais, say hi.” Speaking softly by her ear and smiling with pride, encouraging his daughter to greet her sibling. 

“Hi…” 

You were melting on the spot, seeing Maisie timidly acknowledge the baby even if they couldn’t hear her, Reiner sharing the same look as you. A few moments passed with occasional kicks and Reiner guiding his daughter's hand around your stomach to entice them to keep making their presence known. With each one, Maisie smiled, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what she was feeling, she knew just by the looks on yours and Reiner’s face that it was a good thing. 

When the kicks couldn’t be felt anymore, you pulled your shirt back down and curled up next to Reiner, with Maisie beginning to doze off in your lap. The soft pats from your palm and the occasional threading of your fingers in her hair, she loses her battle with sleep quickly."

Chapter nine: doubts about being a good mom.

"“What’s wrong?” Murmuring, letting your hands fall in your lap and running his own up and down your arms. As he waited for your response, he tried to think of any possible reason why you could be upset, wanting to have his own comforting words ready the moment you were. 

“I’m just worried over everything .” 

Reiner softened, nodded for you to keep going. “I feel stupid for all this anxiety when we’ve already done this, but what if Maisie doesn’t like the baby and lashes out? How am I going to take care of two kids when you’re at work? What if I can’t-” 

“You can.” Cutting you off despite knowing there was probably so much more on your mind you needed to voice. A deep sigh exhaled through his nose, taking a moment to wipe your tears and kiss the little salt stains they left behind on your now flushed cheeks. Understanding how you felt, feeling similar to before Maisie was born, Reiner moved to take you into his arms for an embrace. The soft strands of your hair tickled the side of his face, threading through with his fingers for further comfort. He could hear the further cries into his shoulder, letting his arms tighten around you. 

“I know it’s been a lot for you recently, but sweetheart you know I’m going to be here. You know I’m going to go out of my way to be there and help you out, even if I am at work.” Pulling you away so he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. Reiner couldn’t help but give a silent chuckle when he scanned over your face, looking so much like Maisie when she got upset. Dipping down for a small soft kiss, he held the sides of your face as he gave you the most affectionate look he could muster. 

“You are an incredible woman, mother and wife. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that you won’t be able to handle both of them because you’re smart, caring and face every obstacle with a calm, sound mind. Everything is going to work out one way or another.” Affirming to you once more that there wasn’t anything you couldn’t do nor face alone if Reiner could help it. His commitment would always be to you no matter what, be there for you like you were for him in trying times. Even if he were away and you needed him, Reiner would break and bend laws to be by your side, it was the least he could do for all that you had done for him. 

“I just don’t know why I’m so worked up over this?” Wiping your nose on the back of your hand, looking up at him and then back down to your stomach. Reiner followed your gaze, carefully climbing over you to sit beside you, quickly checking on Maisie as she napped. 

“Because it’s an entirely new situation, for the both of us, double the responsibility. We don’t know what it's like to raise more than one kid and that’s okay, it’s all about figuring it out as we go.” Running his finger lightly over your bump, then palming it in the center. Reiner would admit that he’d had thoughts like yours recently, nothing to this extreme, moreso worried about the present, forcing himself the reminders that he would face the future when it came. 

“Yeah.” 

Your response was plain, but reduced of the worry and uncertainty. Hooking the hand on your bump under your chin, Reiner laid the last of his comfort into the kiss he pressed to your lips. Whatever anxiety remained, melted off of you as you kissed him back, quickly wrapped in the blanket that were his words and actions. Reiner kissed your forehead, reaching over to bring Maisie back to his arms. 

“You’ll be okay, I’ll always make sure of it.” 

Slouching against the headboard once he was readjusted, he reached for your hand, stroking his thumb over the top. Whatever life had to throw this way, Reiner made the same promise over and over again, to be everything and more to you, till the day he drew his last breath."

Chapter ten: dealing with postpartum depression after yours and Reiner's son his born.

“I’m sorry.” Trembling words left your lips, sounding so pathetic and weak. You were pulled off so you could look him in the eyes, concern laced with sternness was what you were met with. 

“For what?” Asking as if it were a rhetorical question, holding the side of your tear swollen face and dabbing a few of the tears away with his hand. 

“For…for I don’t know, he wouldn’t calm down or stop crying and I tried everything but it wouldn’t work.” 

Your husband somehow softened and hardened at your words. Reiner wasn’t truly upset with the situation, moreso with the fact that you immediately turned apologetic for being unable to calm Gabriel down. There were no signs that this was inherently your fault, and Reiner knew things would be testy with your emotions a good while after giving birth. Navigating these emotions were like walking on crack glass high in the sky, stepping lightly and weighing his words and actions to keep from everything shattering. It pained him like no other that you were a mush of emotions, knowing how mentally taxing it was on you. If somehow it were possible for him to carry all of that for you, he would. 

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes babies get that way and it just takes more time to calm them down, you know that.” Wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap. Dexterous fingers glided along your flushed, tear stained cheeks, looking at you with pure adoration. Reiner knew you were bearing the weight of being strong and capable as he returned to work earlier than expected. He hated that you felt the need to do that, his promises were still true and he would uphold every last one to ensure your emotional and mental health. 

“But you just got home from work and immediately had to take care of the situation. I didn’t even have dinner ready, nor did I greet you.” Your words turned into apologetic ramblings, overexplaining to make up for the situation at hand. 

Sweetheart,” Brushing a thumb along your bottom lip to quiet the shaking words leaving your lips. “It’s okay, I don’t expect any of that when I get home. I care about seeing the three of you, that’s it. And it doesn’t matter if I just walked in the door and you need help, I’m your husband and their dad, it's the bare minimum of what’s expected of me.” 

His words were like a wall of truth smacking you in the face, not wanting to accept it. Your husband deserved to come home and relax for a bit before jumping into parental duties, at least that was your reasoning. Reiner already had so much to handle and throwing more on him just felt…wrong. It was a way of showing your appreciation towards him, a little out of the ordinary but you couldn’t think of any other way at the moment. 

“I’m just-'' Taking in a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut for the confession you were about to let out. “I’m just so tired. They both need all of my attention and I want to do everything I can to give it to them but I feel so drained and I know that makes me sound like a bad mom. It’s not fair that you’re not here and it’s even worse for me to just dump more on your plate when you get home, I hate it and I feel like a failure.” 

Unable to look Reiner in the face, ashamed at the words that left your mouth, you buried your face in your hands, letting out pitiful little sobs. It was one thing to inwardly confess to feeling like a failure, but to voice it aloud to your husband struck you so much harder than you expected. Intentionally or not, you dubbed yourself as the strong one, the one to lean on instead of the other way around. Reiner never burdened you with that notion, that was all your doing and you knew that. Everything had gone so smoothly with Maisie, you’d admit your expectations were high with Gabriel. Naive thinking yes, but were you so wrong in thinking that? 

Settling for embracing you and pulling your hands away before he spoke, Reiner smoothed his hands over your back, rubbing circles to calm the pent up emotions inside you. He knew you held some resentment for him going back as early as he did and he couldn’t blame you. But for once he didn’t let that get inside his head, because at this moment he needed to be the rock to your support and not pity himself over something he couldn’t control. 

“You’re not a failure sweetheart. The fact that you’re so upset over this tells me how much you care.” Using age old lines he once heard over and over from you to offer the same reassurance and relief it brought him. “I know it can be hard to ask for help when you feel like you can handle everything, but you need to put yourself first sometimes. You are not just a mother, you’re a person with their own individual self that deserves to just have moments to yourself. It’s not selfish or greedy to want to be away from the kids for a bit, its healthy and that’s all I want for you angel.” 

Bringing yourself to look Reiner in the face, letting out a long somewhat defeated sigh, you gave a small nod. There were thousands of reasons why you loved Reiner, but his poetic words of reassurance were at the top of your list, the man stringing together words and sentences that were so beautifully conveyed that calmed your weary soul. Your husband was truly the better half of your and you couldn’t even imagine living in the world without him. 

“It’s not going to happen overnight.” Countering back a bit with slight humor in your tone, the tonnage of your inner struggles lifting slowly.

His lips curled into the softest smile, tracing the lines of your cheekbones and tilting his head in a small nod. “I know, but you’re not alone, you’re never alone and I want you to get used to leaning on me more when you need to. I’m never going to judge you for whatever is bothering you, nor your thoughts or feelings.”

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 10, Uneasy - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, bad jokes, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. (hand job, fingering, PIV), little bit 'o' dirty talk, coitus interruptus, Bucky being a dumbass, insecurity, thoughts of self harm, arguing, mentions of emotional affair, poorly translated Russian, Pocket giving Bucky more chances than he deserves, really.

Word Count: 2.5k

Previously On...: You made the mistake of watching Bucky and Jade spar in the training room. Needless to say, it was... intense, and you weren't the only one to notice. Looks like others in the Tower are taking bets on how long it'll be before Bucky cheats on you. He promises loves only you, only wants to be with you, and you want to believe his sweet words... you just cant shake the look of guilt that crossed his face when he realized you were watching him and Jade spar. Hopefully, he can prove his devotion to you with a little horizontal sparring of your own.

A/N: I'm sorry. Really, that's all I got for this one. Pocket's reaching her breaking point, but she's not quite there just yet; bare with her as she tries to deal. I mean, would any of us give up on Bucky fucking Barnes until we absolutely had to? I think not, lol.

Part three of this chapter is fairly short; I'll be posting it today, as well.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready

Bucky pushed you up against the hard surface of your bedroom door, his lips trailing fire along your skin as he kissed you with an almost animalistic need. You could feel the press of his erection through the fabric of your workout clothing digging into your stomach as you tilted your head back and let out a soft moan.

“Bucky,” you breathed as his hips rutted against you, “we should get inside.”

“Need you so bad, Pocket,” he grunted, fingers finding their way under your shirt and sliding along your already sweat-slicked skin. “Should be getting inside of you.”

“Mmm, clever,” you hummed as you reached behind your bodies for the door handle. You managed to awkwardly twist it open just as Bucky’s hips pressed particularly aggressively, sending you both tumbling through the doorway.

Bucky’s hands were on you before you could fully lose your balance, keeping you upright and supported as he led you both to the couch.

“Bed’s not that far away, Barnes,” you said in between kisses as you began pulling off your clothes.

“Too far away,” he countered, bouncing on one foot as he worked to tug off his sneaker. “You’re lucky I’m too much of a gentleman to take you right on the floor.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. “Lucky, huh?”

“Remember the rugburn you got last time?” he asked, his smile positively predatory as he gently pushed you backwards onto the cushions, his hands reaching for the waistband of your leggings and pulling them down your legs.

“Touche,” you contended. The memory of your chafed skin certainly had put a damper on the otherwise delightful experience. You might have to talk to Tony about getting some carpet with a little more shag.

You giggled at the thought, causing Bucky to raise a questioning eyebrow as he helped you out of your sports bra.

“I was thinking we might need a better shag carpet for future shagging,” you informed him. His laughter quickly turned into a moan as you reached down into his shorts and took a hold of him, stroking his length.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned as he thrust his hips into your hand. “They didn’t make girls like you back in my day.”

You pulled him free from his bottoms and boxer briefs, taking one hand off of him to push the fabric down. “Thank God for that,” you told him. “You might have been tempted to dodge the draft, otherwise. Then where would we be?”

Bucky grunted, and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. “How can you make such horrible jokes and still manage to be so fucking hot?” he asked you with a grin.

You took your hands off of his cock, pretending to be offended. “Horrible?! My handjobs are only for people who think my jokes are funny.”

“Did I say ‘horrible’?” Bucky asked in mock confusion, reaching down to run his metal fingers through your waiting folds. The cold touch made your back arch as he inserted two fingers inside of you. “Coulda sworn I said hilarious.”

“Weak save attempt, Old Man,” you panted as he picked up the tempo with his hand. “Judges– fuck– judges allow it, you can put it in. God, put it in!”

“Gotta get you ready, doll,” Bucky grinned down at you. “Get you good and stretched.”

“I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t start fucking me right now—” you words were cut off by a scream as Bucky took heed of your warning and pushed himself into you, until he was filling you completely. “Yes!” you shouted, relishing in the feeling of being so consumed by him. “Fuck, so good, Buck!” You began thrusting your hips, begging him to move within you.

“Fuck, sweets.” Bucky’s thrusts were hard and forceful. “Takin’ me so well, all with no prep. Making me so proud, the way you’re grabbin’ me. Feel like fuckin’ heaven!”

You reached your hands around his back, digging your nails into the strong muscles of his ass to pull him closer, as though you wanted to leave no space between your bodies. “So big, Bucky,” you moaned into his ear as you hitched a leg around his waist, allowing him to go deeper. “Never had anyone fill me up as good as you! Was fucking made for this cock.”

Your words drove Bucky feral, and like flipping a switch, his thrusts went into overdrive.

Between the sound of slapping skin and your wanton moans, you barely registered Bucky’s cell phone ringing. You paid it no mind as he pounded into you, completely ignoring it until you felt his pace falter. Looking up, you saw him reach over and grab it from the coffee table. 

“Come on, Buck,” you whined, “leave it. I’m sure Steve won't mind waiting a bit.”

Bucky looked from the caller ID to you, a combination of embarrassment and frustration on his face. “It’s Vix,” he said, fingers moving to the screen.

“Ignore it,” you told him, feeling the tide of your impending orgasm slowly slipping back out to sea. 

“It might be important,” he said, his voice sounding pathetic to your ears. 

“Barnes,” you warned, your voice low and icy. 

“It’ll just take one second.” He got up, pulling out of you with a slick sound, and you felt your vagina dry up and board shut, closing for business. He turned his back to you as he accepted the call. You didn’t even bother to listen to his half of the conversation-- nothing she had to say to him was important enough for this, opting instead to get up and go into the bathroom.

Your hands were shaking with rage as you tried several times to lock the door behind you before succeeding. You could not believe your ‘boyfriend’ had just pulled out of you, in the middle of sex, to answer another woman’s phone call. An image of his face from this morning flashed before your eyes as you turned on the shower– the guilt that seemed to cross his features when he had realized you were watching him spar with Jade. You’d been so quick to put it to the back of your mind, to ignore it, but now? After this? God. Was he thinking about her while he was inside of you? You turned the heat of the water up as far as it would go and grabbed your loofah, preparing to scrub the disgust you felt from your skin.

No. You heard Pepper’s words echo in your head– you can’t control what other people do, you can only control your response to them. And you were not going to fall into your old habits over this. You turned the heat down to a tolerable level and lathered your loofah with soap, needing to (gently, you reminded yourself) cleanse your body of the sweat, sex, and shame. 

As you were rinsing the soap from your body, you heard a pounding on the bathroom door. “Doll?” Bucky’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Doll, what’s wrong? Why is the door locked? If I knew you wanted a shower, I would have joined you.”

Was he fucking serious right now? You took your sweet time, not answering him as you finished your shower, toweling yourself off before you wrapped yourself in your robe. 

With a resigned sigh, you opened the door back into your bedroom, half expecting to find Bucky gone, perhaps to have Jade take care of erection she’d prevented you from finishing off. But he was sitting on the edge of your bed, his boxer briefs back on and elbows resting on his knees. He looked up when he heard the door open.

“Hey,” he said, standing and making his way toward you. “Sorry about the interruption. Vix just had some questions about the training schedule for the rest of the week. But that’s all squared away, so we can get back to it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at him. “You can’t seriously think that I want to have sex with you right now,” you said. Your voice was hard and impassive. 

“What?” Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

You walked over to your dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of panties and leggings. With your back to him, you shimmied into them under your robe. “Call me crazy, but I kinda consider you stopping mid-thurst to take a call from another woman, my fucking nemesis, of all people, to be a bit of a mood killer.”

You heard Bucky sigh behind you, and you could just imagine him running his hand through his hair. “Pocket,” he said, “come on. Don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Your entire body stiffened at his words. Turning around slowly, you gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

Bucky held his hands palms-out, as if to indicate he wasn’t a threat to you. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. I was just taking a phone call.”

It took every ounce of control you had within you to not explode on him. You closed your eyes and took one, two, three deep breaths that did nothing to calm you. “You took a phone call,” you said, “in the middle of sex. With a girl who has been a problem between us since the moment she showed up. How do you not get that that is not okay? At fucking all?”

“God, I thought therapy was supposed to help fix your problem,” he said, “not make it worse.”

You blanched at that. “My problem?”

“Yes, your problem,” he said, voice rising. “I haven’t done anything wrong, but you keep trying to paint me out to be the bad guy. You make me feel like a fucking cheater when I’ve never even touched her.”

“You don’t need to touch her to be having an emotional affair with her, Barnes,” you said, voice quiet. 

“An emotional affair?” he barked out a laugh. “We’re just friends.” 

“Just friends?” you asked, incredulous. “I’m ‘just friends’ with Steve. Should I take a call from him when I’ve got your dick inside of me?” You watched in real time as Bucky’s expression darkened. You hated using his insecurities about Steve to make a point, but he was leaving you no other choice. You didn’t know how else to make him understand why he was hurting you so badly.

“That’s completely different,” he said through clenched teeth. 

You raised your chin. “It’s not different, at all, and you know it. If I stopped having sex with you to take a call from Steve, you would be livid. And honestly, I’m so disappointed in you for pretending like it’s not the same! That’s so disingenuous, Bucky.”

Bucky tilted his head back and sighed. “I feel like we’re going around in circles here, Pocket,” he said, voice heavy. “You keep getting upset, and I keep trying to reassure you, but it’s like you want there to be something going on between her and I.”

“I keep getting upset because you have no fucking concept of appropriate boundaries, Bucky!” you shouted at him. You startled yourself– you’d hardly ever raised your voice at him in anger. From the look on his face, it had taken him aback, too. “I shouldn’t have to be constantly telling you that your interactions with her are inappropriate for a guy in a monogamous relationship! It’s fucking exhausting, but every time I think we’ve made progress, you turn around and do something that makes me feel even worse!”

“Well, if I’m so fucking exhausting, then why are you even still with me?” he shouted back at you.

You stared at him, eyes wide. Was this it? Was this where he left you for Jade? Had you finally pushed him too far?

But his face immediately fell as he realized what he had just said. “Hell. Doll, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know what to do to make you feel better.” He took a step toward you, opening his arms, and you let him embrace you, though you didn’t hold him back. “I don’t know how to convince you that there’s nothing between her and I.”

You looked up at him. “Think of Steve,” you said. He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at you. “What I mean is,” you continued, “when you’re about to do something with Jade, ask yourself if you would be comfortable with me doing that with Steve, knowing how he feels about me. But instead of Steve being your best friend, imagine that he was actively trying to break us up. Like, would you be cool with me and Steve going off and forgetting about you in Central Park? Or would you be happy watching Steve sit on top of me during a sparring session while you listened to agents talk about it's just a matter of time before we start fucking?” You could tell by the way his arms tense around you that the very thought angered him. “Or if I decided that it was so important that I take a call from Steve that I just stopped having sex with you, even after you told me to ignore it. Don’t tell me none of that wouldn’t make you feel like absolute shit.”

Bucky blew out a breath and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re right,” he said sadly. “That would drive me insane. I’ll work on it. I’ll… I’ll try to think of Steve.”

You sighed. “I need you to do more than try, Buck,” you told him. “I need you to do it. Cause this, the way things are right now? It’s killing me.”

The look Bucky gave you then was enough to break your heart. You knew, you truly knew he wasn’t doing any of this on purpose, but he couldn’t keep falling back on his cluelessness as an excuse. Not anymore. Not when it was destroying you.

“Mne ochen' zhal', moya lyubov'.” I’m so sorry, my love. “I will do it.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him. You were relieved that he was finally, hopefully, seeing where you were coming from, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more times he was going to put you through this. “I love you,” you said into his bare chest.

“I love you, too,” he replied. After a beat, he said: “So, I guess sex is off the table for this afternoon?”

You chuffed at that, then looked back up at him. “Seriously?" you asked, giving him a look. "Obviously, for now; don’t be stupid,” you said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be persuaded to revisit the possibility later.”

Bucky smiled down at you. “I can work with that,” he said. “How about a movie, instead? I’ll take a shower, you grab some snacks from the kitchen, and we can watch whatever you want.”

“Mmm,” you said, feeling hopeful. “You will regret giving me that power, Barnes.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[awkwardandeccentric]

Part of the reason why I kin Stolas so much is because my own father survived two different domesticly abusive relationships.

So, now that that’s out of the way.

Octavia sees her mother abusing Stolas but mentally puts them both on equal footing. “Are you two done screaming at each other for the day?” and “Why does he hate her more than he loves me?”

She doesn’t know that he’s spent the last 17-18 years taking physical, emotional, and psychological abuse to give Octavia a “normal life” (I really hope Octavia never finds out she was conceived via rape. I don’t think Stolas will ever tell her because that would shatter her). She doesn’t know about his severe drinking problem that he uses to not feel all the misery. I don’t know if she knows about the SSRIs but considering how much Stolas keeps secret, she most likely doesn’t.

Octavia right now is angry with her father because, in her mind, her dad and mother loved each other and then her dad did a completely 180 by cheating with an imp and then firing back at all of Stella’s verbal assaults with no rhyme or reason. She is also going through trauma and that deserves to be acknowledged.

The thing about escaping domestic violence is your kid will never not be traumatized by it. If you stay, they’re traumatized by the abuser. If you leave, they’re traumatized by the sudden loss of stability, even if that stability was toxic and terrible. The best you can do is hope to mitigate the damage (but please if you have any doubts on whether to stay in an abusive relationship, the answer is always ‘no.’ Leave while you’re still alive).

I am not and will never victim blame Stolas. Escaping domestic violence is already as hard as swimming from the Pacific to the Atlantic without a life vest. I don’t blame him for not knowing this isn’t normal and that he deserves better. I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave Octavia without a mother (even if the mother is evil incarnate). I don’t blame him for 17-18 years of his survival mode working on overdrive and him not being able to see ahead how not kicking Stella to the curb the millisecond the egg was laid could damage his child down the line. I don’t blame him for putting his whole reason for not kill himself on Octavia, as unhealthy as that dynamic is.

But I also hope Octavia gets to a place where she doesn’t hate him for all this. Stolas can be selfish, but this isn’t one of those times. He found a lifeline in the form of a stupid red lizard (affectionate) and he’s gripping as hard as he can because he’s going to drown if he doesn’t. And to be honest? Taking some of that toxic energy off Octavia is a good thing. It’s not fair for her to be his sole reason for not killing himself. Again, don’t blame him for it- my birb husband has been tredding water for 17-18 years and needed some lifeline, any lifeline- but that doesn’t make it healthy.

I don’t want Octavia to know every dirty detail of her parents’ relationship. But I hope she finds healing in the knowledge that her father loves her more than all the rings of Hell combined and he’s spent 17-18 years trying to make it to the next morning just to make sure she’s okay. I hope she knows that he will protect her in the way he was never protected.

Great now I’m crying I have to call my dad.

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

WIP Wednesday

Hello, it’s me- the angst fairy- back again with something needlessly angsty. I was reminded recently about a scene I’d deleted from an old fic of mine. No regrets about deleting, it was the right decision, but I was sad to cut it. B-15 deserves more character analysis. So sharing it now.

Tagging just a few folks who I don’t think will mind the angst but anyone else who sees this and wants to participate in sharing their art or writing- please do! 💚 (And please tag me in your posts so I don’t miss it) @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @lgwilt @dewdropreader

Deleted scene from a fic where Mobius is trying to ignore his trauma but the memories of those he’s pruned keep on coming. B-15 helps him through it. (I noticed on B-15’s Funko Pop that she tracked her kills on her helmet and decided, as I do, there’s an angsty story there.)

Verity stopped and opened a small door to their left, pulling Mobius inside an empty room.

“I thought you said we were running late to another meeting?”

“There’s no meeting,” she said. “Just looked like you needed a break from the briefing. Take a minute.”

Mobius nodded and let his head fall against the door behind him, relishing the feeling of cool metal against his skin. It was quiet. There were no glaring lights, no beeping machines, no questions he didn’t know the answer to. Mobius took a few steady breaths until the headache pounding in his head subsided. He opened his eyes to find Verity watching him closely.

“Thanks,” Mobius said, pushing himself from the door and straightening his tie. “I feel better. Don’t tell Loki he was right. He warned me that a meeting on numerical code methodology for new timelines would put me to sleep.”

He turned to share a laugh with Verity but her face didn’t show any amusement. Instead, she looked concerned.

“I don’t think this was as simple as you falling asleep in a meeting,” she said carefully.

Mobius stilled. He had hoped his episodes weren’t noticeable but he should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep them from Verity. She was smart. It’s why he named her Deputy Director.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked after a few moments of silence.

Flashes of a park on a sunny day, a couple laughing, a timestick in his hand, a scream of terror, and a case file— variants eliminated— sped through Mobius’ mind before they were gone.

“No… I don’t remember what I was thinking about,” Mobius answered honestly. It was probably for the best he didn’t remember.

Verity frowned. “You shouldn’t repress your memories.”

Mobius slumped back against the door with a groan. She was right. While they still didn’t quite understand what the TVA had done to them, they were beginning to understand how they could heal their broken minds. Mobius knew the steps a TVA worker should take when they felt their memories resurface —he’d help write the protocol— but it was time consuming. For an organization that existed outside time, Mobius sure felt they were constantly running out of it. He didn’t have time to practice the techniques he’d taught others.

“There are too many cases that need my attention right now,” Mobius said.

“You need to offload some of those. I keep telling you-”

“I know, I know. I will. I just need to get through this Mandarin case first.”

“And then?” Verity pressed.

“And then I’ll take a few days off and sort through some of this… stuff.

Verity gave a disbelieving huff.

“I will.”

A heavy silence fell between the two agents and Mobius looked at the room around them. They were in one of the storage rooms that used to hold confiscated variants’ possessions. Without the stolen artifacts filling the shelves, the room seemed hollow. Purposeless. Mobius didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it in the reallocation.

“You’re not the only one who’s struggling,” Verity whispered. Her voice was soft, so soft that even in the silence of the abandoned room Mobius hardly heard her. At first, he wasn’t sure she intended to speak the words out loud.

“That’s how I knew you were having an episode,” she continued, twiddling with the cufflinks on her new suit in an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “I get these… headaches sometimes. Everything blurs together and I can’t remember where or when I am. It’s like I’m lost in my memories or, no, it’s like I’m trapped… trapped by him again… like we never escaped.”

Verity clenched her eyes shut with a sharp inhale of breath as if she were trapped inside a memory right now and Mobius reached out, taking her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knew how terrifying it was to be stuck in your memories, to feel like you were back under his control. They may have defeated He Who Remains but he was still here. He always would be. There was no amount of running they could do to escape him entirely. It made Mobius feel weak. He hated thinking Verity felt the same.

“Did you know I used to track kills on my helmet?” Verity asked.

Mobius nodded. He remembered. His memories might be splintered but he remembered enough. He remembered what they were a part of.

“I hated that thing,” she scowled. “I hated that number printed on the side. The paint was fresh when I started but sometimes I swore I could see the etchings of another number. The number of whoever I replaced when they were deemed ineffective. I wondered how long it would be before they replaced me.

“I thought if I marked my helmet as my own, if I made it look different, I would feel better. They wouldn’t paint over it so easy. I thought if I pruned more than anyone else, I could prove to the Timekeepers that I was better than everyone else in my unit. That I would feel useful, good, like what I was doing mattered but-” Verity’s voice cracked and Mobius squeezed her hand tighter. “I only ever felt more angry. So, I pruned more hoping that feeling would go away. It never did. It just kept getting worse and worse and worse until…” Verity trailed off.

“Until Sylvie,” Mobius finished.

“Until Sylvie,” Verity agreed, wiping her eyes and pulling back with a soft smile on her face. “Sylvie showed me everything I lost and suddenly it all made sense. I knew why I hated that number. I knew why I woke up furious at the world, looking to punish anyone who got in my way. It’s because that number wasn’t my name. Who they made me wasn’t me.

“They took everything from us and while we can’t travel back in time and change what was done, we can change our future. We have the opportunity to fight for something we believe in now. Sylvie and Loki gave us that.”

Warmth spread through Mobius as the mention of Loki’s name. He looked down at the ring on his left hand and smiled, running his finger along the band again. He would never understand how he’d gotten so lucky; he would do everything in his power to be the man Loki believed him to be.

“You gave us this opportunity too,” Verity added. “When we burnt down our old TVA, you built a new one and you didn’t dictate a new purpose but rather showed us what a new purpose could be. We chose to follow you. We choose this life. And…” Mobius felt Verity give his hands a gentle squeeze. “You don’t need to carry it alone. We want to help you.”

Mobius carefully untangled his hands from Verity’s and took a step backwards. “I know.”

“Good,” Verity nodded with an air of finality. “At least let Loki help you. I don’t know what’s going on between you two but he’s started helping me with my cases.”

Mobius snorted. He could only imagine how that was going.

“It’s not funny, Mobius. He’s driving me nuts. You need to let him return to smothering you otherwise I might just send him to the Void without his TemPad.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Mobius chuckled at Verity’s hollow threat. “I’ll talk to him. Now, come on. I think we both deserve a little treat after all this. Let’s see what Processing confiscated today.”

Verity hesitated. “Mobius, I don’t care how many different variations you force me to try, I’m not going to like any timeline’s Josta.”

“What?? After all that talk about hope and change. One day I am going to find you a Josta you like. But no, I actually wasn’t talking about Josta this time. I heard Processing just got back with a case full of strawberry margarita mix. If that interests you.”

Verity’s face lit up in a brilliant smile. “Now, you’re speaking my language. Lead the way, Director. Josta aside, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

I’ll follow you anywhere.

Mobius’ steps faltered as he swallowed over the lump of fear in his throat at the words. Verity and the entire TVA would follow him. They were depending on him to show them the way, to fix things and Mobius couldn’t let them down. He wouldn’t.

Okay, I’ll write something fluffy and cute for next time. I promise I do know how to write sweet things 😅