#but the idea that if someone has everything to lose and nowhere to run they will fight harder and fiercer stuck with me

[loregoddess]

So, I started thinking a bit too hard about this post here, wrote something up, let it sit in the drafts for a day bc I wrote most of it half-awake before work early in the morning while suffering IBS pain, and wanted to check it later, and decided I did in fact need to get this out of my system bc I've spent an unfathomable amount of time thinking about 3H and enjoy writing in-depth analyses for fun, and then I wrote the rest of it half-asleep late at night, still suffering from IBS pain, rip. (I did at least take time to edit at a later time though).

Anyhow the initial post that got me writing was talking about how insane the eastern/northern houses in the AM route were, since Houses Fraldarius and Gautier (and a few other minor houses of the eastern/northern Faerghus territories) were able to stave off the Empire's attempts to conquer them for a whole 5+ years resulting in a deadlock. Like, with all the resources Edelgard has at her disposal (both from the Empire, and from the Agarthans), she cannot squash the last resistance in Faerghus. And then I was like, "I get the joke here, but actually this reminds me of something from The Art of War, and might actually be good writing."

(full analysis continued below bc it's basically a short essay)

I actually think the writing for this specific part of the story is kind of ingenious since it takes historic military strategy into consideration for how the last of the Faerghus lords should have acted to best optimize their chances of survival. Sun Tzu explains how soldiers tend to act in dire situations in The Art of War, Chapter XI:

23. Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight. If they will face death, there is nothing they may not achieve. Officers and men alike will put forth their uttermost strength. 24. Soldiers when in desperate straits lose the sense of fear. If there is no place of refuge, they will stand firm. If they are in hostile country, they will show a stubborn front. If there is no help for it, they will fight hard. [...] 58. Place your army in deadly peril, and it will survive; plunge it into desperate straits, and it will come off in safety. 59. For it is precisely when a force has fallen into harm's way that is capable of striking a blow for victory.

(quotes cited from here)

By this logic, we can assume it is because the last of the Faergus lords have everything to lose if they're defeated (their lands, their lives, their peoples' safety, their way of life and culture) and everything to gain if they manage to win, that they fight as if they're already dead, because in a sense they are.

Sylvain actually displays a different, but similar mindset in his monastery dialogue during Chapter 22 of Verdant Wind:

[image transcript: "Sylvain: I mean, I'll still fight like I want to die because that's worked so far, and why change at this late date, right?"]

(for context this is said in reaction to the prospect of fighting against the risen Nemesis's army, you can read the full conversation here)

So we know that the idea of the "my choices are to fight like hell or die, so I might as well fight" mindset is present at least in the Gautier house, and considering the military history of Faerghus it would make sense that all the major houses teach and utilize military strategies. The Art of War also has an entire chapter dedicated to the importance of spies, and it's implied or outright stated several times in both Houses and Hopes that House Gautier has one of the most expansive information networks in all of Fodlan, on par with House Vestra's, Judith's, and Yuri's spy networks.

Therefore it makes a lot of sense actually that even if it's just Houses Fraldarius and Gautier, and a few other minor lords, that they'd be able to hold out, since they were the military powerhouses in Faerghus and also the "best" equipped (decent home resources as compared to Galatea's territory, best spy network of Faerghus, long military history, more military experience, a strong reason to fight to the death, etc.) of the remaining Faerghus noble houses to put up a last-ditch resistance and actually manage to hold out.

Actually I want to expand on my "more military experience" note there. Insofar as I can tell, the Empire actually has the least amount of recent military experience, while Faerghus probably has the most. I say this because it's made very clear that Faerghus, specifically House Gautier, has been fighting off invasions from Sreng for decades, if not several generations of Gautiers (according to the account of Laetitia Gautier fighting off the first invasion from Sreng, from Hopes). Furthermore, the attacks from Sreng are frequent and recurring, enough so that Lambert led a campaign against Sreng. So all the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus have had constant military praxis for decades.

The only other major family to have similar and recent military experiences would be House Goneril, which often repels attacks from Almyra. It was an invasion from Almyra which prompted the formation of the Officers Academy, and yet no such response was ever made to Sreng. In fact, Sreng and Faerghus's struggles with them seem to be entirely unknown to the rest of Fodlan, or at least ignored. Which means that while Holst Goneril gains fame for his might on the battlefield, no one in Fodlan really knows about the strength of the eastern/northern houses of Faerghus.

The only major military conflict the Empire had to deal with in recent events leading up to the start of the game's story was the Dagda and Brigid war, which was resolved within a year's time and resulted in the complete destruction of House Nuvelle, which is far from a clean victory. The only notable person associated with that war is Count Bergliez, making him the foremost expert on military strategy in Edelgard's army. Edelgard herself started a multi-front war in her late teens with literally no actual military experience. (Not to say the training at the Officers Academy was useless, but military education and a handful of field battles are not the same as prolonged warfare).

Sure, Edelgard has the Agarthans, but even if we assume that the same major Agarthans have been cybernetically transferring their souls from one host body into new host bodies when needed, they don't technically have "war" experience since their MO is to act in the shadows, sowing chaos and discord. They don't know how to manage an army (and even if some of the Agarthans, like Thalas, had survived from the initial war with Sothis, and would technically have knowledge of warfare, that war ended with the near-annihilation of the world, so it seems foolish to assume they have any practical knowledge of military strategy).

So, Edelgard starts this multi-front war, and has to divide her resources between the Faerghus front and the Leicester front, and since everyone in Fodlan knows of Holst's battlefield prowess, she decides to have Count Bergliez hold down the Leicester front, leaving Faerghus to be dealt with by the Agarthans through Cornelia. And sure, Cornelia succeeds in winning the western lords to her side and toppling the capital, executing Rufus and attempting to kill Dimitri, but neither she nor the western houses have the same sort of experience with war the way the eastern/northern houses do because of Sreng. And everyone consistently underestimates the strength of the eastern/northern houses, possibly especially Cornelia bc she's an Agarthan and thinks herself above humans to begin with.

So between the fact that Cornelia (and technically Edelgard) didn't start off by taking the eastern/northern houses seriously, and the fact that Houses Fraldarius and Gautier and the surrounding territories were backed into a corner with everything to lose and everything to fight to the death for, it really does make sense that a deadlock would result on that specific battlefront, and not just solely because of the military culture of Faerghus.

(To be entirely fair, Edelgard is more or less doomed to lose the war she started in every timeline except CF, where the key variables are significantly different, because of her lack of military experience, mismanagement of resources and assets, and a general lack of understanding and knowledge of the rest of Fodlan, paired with the fact that her and the Agarthans are at odds from the start, so there's a ton of internal rifts and clashing objectives within her forces. Like, she really wasn't going to win from a strategic perspective. Why the Agarthans never use their orbital missiles to deal with Fraldarius and Gautier is beyond me, and why Edelgard didn't sieze Garreg Mach and use it as a strategic stronghold is also beyond me--on a Watsonian level at least. The writing for the Agarthans is consistently lackluster, so with the writing for eastern/northern Faerghus's military might being logically solid, I'll take my wins where I can).

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[the-sinister-story-teller]

this is long, sorry. okay, so it would be angsty with a happy ending (maybe with some smut at the end) where reader is tall and looks like a total dom, but is actually a bottom who is head over heels for angel, and tries to show it but angel doesn’t believe him/thinks he’s trying to use him and pushes the reader away,, though angel has also caught feelings. eventually angel overhears reader telling someone (charlie, husk, idc) how in love he is with angel and how angel hates him and angel confronts him. crying and confessions happen and maybe some smut where angel tops reader.

thanks, i love your writing!!!

A/n: Of course! I love this idea! I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Angel Dust x M!Reader ~ Looks May Be Deceiving

Mentions: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Male Reader, MxM intimacy, Soft Dom!Angel.

Topic: Request above ^^^^

"Hey Angel have you seen my phone?" You called out to your friend, Angel Dust, who hummed in minor confusion.

"Uhhhh...No!" He called back, as you gasped in joy.

"I got it! Thanks Angie!" You hummed, before leaving to go run some errands. To be frank, you didn't lose your phone. You had it the entire time, you just needed a reason to try and confess to Angel, but you chickened out. You had arrived a while back, and grown moderately close to Angel. When you began to try and hit on him he...declined. A lot. At some point, you tried to ask him out to which he sweetly but bluntly said a flat 'no' to. You wouldn't lose hope though. Not that easily, especially with how smitten you were for him. You didn't know it, but he was in love too, but he didn't want to be used by someone again. So, he sheltered himself from it.

Later enough, you came back with groceries that Charlie had needed, your hands full.

"Princess! I need a lil' bit of help here!!" You shouted as Charlie rushed to help you, setting the bags down. You sighed at the relief of nothing heavy weighing down your arms now, before you plopped back into a chair in the lobby. It was then you saw Angel come down, making you sigh softly. You sat up, going to help him carry something. "Here, lemme get that for ya!"

"Oh uh...Thanks Y/n." He spoke sheepishly, as you chuckled nervously again.

"Say uhm...Are you free tonight?" You asked, raising a brow as Angel narrowed his eyes.

"No. I'm really, really, busy tonight.." Angel lied, leaving the room quickly with his things. You sighed, hopeless as you sat at the bar, catching husk's attention.

"Th' hells got you so gloom?" Husk asked, pouring a glass of booze for you, as you took the cup.

"Thanks...and it's nothing just...In a predicament."

"Of what sorts?" Husk asked, raising a brow as he drank a bottle of cheap booze.

"Just..Angel. He acts like he hates my guts but I..."

"You love 'im, don't cha?" Husk sighed as you nodded, taking a swig from the glass, groaning quietly in frustration. Before Angel could fully leave, he was still within ear shot, hearing your confession.

"Yeah..I am. I can't help it!! Have you fuckin' seen him!? He's gorgeous, funny, and just...everything I'll ever need.." You muttered, sighing softly. "I just don't have a chance with him...He hates my damn guts for christs sake!" You exclaimed as Husk huffed.

"They always act like that, to cover up their true feelin's. Only thing is, Angel's probably like that 'cuz of the shit he went through." Husk explained, as you nodded.

"Yeah...You have a point.."

"So, take it easy. He's probably in love with ya' too, he just isn't ready for it yet. Keep shootin' your shot kid." Husk said with a very light smile. You returned to expression, finishing your drink, and standing up.

"Thanks Husk. It...Really means a lot to me." You thanked and he nodded, waving his hand to shoo you off. You sighed, making your way to your room, before hearing a voice.

"Hey Y/n?" Angel spoke softly, spooking you as he came out of nowhere from behind.

"Oh, Angel. It's you. What's up?" You asked as Angel opened his mouth to speak, before sighing, holding his arms softly.

"Listen I...I don't hate you..You're just so nice and I didn't know if you were genuine or just wanted to use me for sex.." He spoke, his voice shaking a bit from the tears. He didn't want you to think he hated you, he didn't want you to lose interest because of it either.

"Where did all this come from Angie?.." You murmured, scared he might've heard your conversation with Husk.

"Damnit I-...fuck...I heard what you said and...and I'm sorry for bein' a complete asshole. I didn't want to get close to you and end up goin' through heartbreak 'cuz you got tired of usin' me." He explained and you swallowed thickly.

"Angel...I'd never fucking use you...Ever..I'm lovesick for you and I'd die a second time to make sure you're happy and safe." You said, a bit of confidence peaking in your voice.

"So you're not..Upset?"

"Fuck no!! If I'm upset at anything, I'm upset you didn't tell me sooner!" You joked, hugging Angel softly as he sighed with relief, quietly and softly crying from joy.

"I love you Angel.."

"I...I love you too Y/n.." Angel muttered. From then on, the two of you began dating, and to say the least, it was fun. Constant pranks and affection. You two were in Angel's room, cuddling as you watched some novela.

"...I'm fuckin' tellin' ya Y/n! She's just gonna dump him!" Angel exclaimed as you scoffed.

"As if! Maria loves Gabe!! I doubt she'd ditch him." You huffed as the two of you went silent, before breaking out into laughter...It died down, as it was just a silent cuddle now. A question lingered in Angel's mind for a bit since you two began dating, and he felt this was the right time to ask. Given he was a bit horny that day, from seeing you to heavy work in a tank top.

"Hey Y/n, can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Uh yeah! Shoot me with it hon-" You laughed, leaning your cheek on the palm of your hand, as your elbow propped you up on the bed.

"Are you...Ready for sex? If not that's completely--" Angel quickly sat up to dismiss it all before you cut him off.

"Yes." You bluntly spoke as Angel stammered before snickering.

"Didn't think you'd reply so fast damn." He laughed as you chuckled, your cheeks growing hot.

"But uh...One thing I'd like to mention...I'm not one to top." You sheepishly chuckled as Angel hummed.

"I get it...Got any big kinks you want me to know tootz?" Angel cooed as he laid you down onto the bed, climbing on top. You practically melted into his touch, bright red from all this.

"Nope...I'm followin' you Angie, you can take the pace however you want.." You muttered sweetly as Angel nodded, cupping your cheek with one hand, kissing you softly as he used the other hands to undress the two of you. He straddled your waist, running his hands over your now bare body as he pulled away from the kiss.

"Not gonna lie tootz, I was expectin' ya to be a top~" He giggled as you bashfully looked away. Angel simply cooed from this, turning your head to face him. "Awh~ don't get shy on me now babe~" He teased as you let out a shaky sigh, before jolting a bit with a soft moan, feeling Angel's hand wrap around your shaft.

"A-Angel please be-"

"I know, I know babe, I'll be gentle...Just wasn't expecting you to be so big~" He sweetly said, leaning down and kissing your cheek. You began to whimper a bit, feeling Angel slowly drag his hand from the base to the tip, rubbing it gently to spread the pre-cum.

"Holy f-fuck angel that- mhh~ -feels a-amazing- ah..~" You moaned out, shuddering from the feeling of Angel peppering your neck in sweet kisses.

"I'm glad babe, s'all i want you to feel..pleasure all the way..~" Angel cooed, holding you closely to him. While one hand pumped your length, the other began rubbing your entrance softly, before pushing its way in, earning a whimper of minor pain from you. Angel gasped, sitting up with worry. "You ok babycakes?"

"Y-Yeah I'm fine Angie..hnn..You can keep going..~" You muttered, as Angel nodded with a sweet look, hugging you close with his two free arms, while two fingers fucked your hole, and the other stroked you. You let out a soft whimper, beginning to pant.

"Are you close babe?~" Angel asked, keeping you close to him while you reached your high. You let out yet another whimper, this time more desperate and needy. "C'mon sweet thing, let loose, ok~?" Angel cooed as you covered your mouth, doing just that. Once you finished, you let your arms fall to your side, as Angel laid on top, playing with your hair. "Happy?"

"So fucking happy babe." You chuckled breathlessly, as you two shared a quick kiss, before Angel sighed.

"Love you Y/n."

"Love you too Angie."

[mllemaenad]

Listening to Wyll's backstory in context of all the details we're acquiring on devil's contracts and soul selling is fascinating.

See - I listened to Lann Tarv's three tales to get my soul coins. I felt bad for making Karlach listen to that, obviously, but to be honest I didn't even want the coins that much. I actually wanted the stories. I wanted a better understanding of how this works.

And what I'm learning is - for the gods (and godlike beings) of this world, cruelty seems to be the point. I mean - it's possible there's a god in this world I wouldn't want to stab to death with a rusty fork, but if so I have not met them yet.

These beings have the power to save people and places, to change lives, to do anything. And when someone asks them to - they demand a terrible price. But they don't just demand a price. They subvert the original request in such a way that they utterly fail to deliver on the original promise.

An abused woman wishes to be loved - and her true love appears, but dies instantly. A man wishes to save his children from starvation, and ends up personally growing masses of meat on his own body - not only painful for him, but forcing his children into survival cannibalism, which they were trying to avoid.

Auntie Ethel works the same way. Every one of her customers is left in a tortured state, while Ethel still takes her payment.

The idea is that the person must come to regret their wish long before the payment comes due. Every cry for help must be met with a boot to the face. Or else the mortals will get uppity? Or something.

What is interesting is how consciously Wyll defies that. And how much Mizora is dancing around, trying to force him into that state of miserable regret.

Wyll was manipulated into selling his soul. He was a kid, and he was summoned into a terrible situation - and in that moment, he could see no other way to save the city. Mizora did need to save Baldur's Gate to serve her boss's purposes, so she couldn't take that victory from him - but she did everything she could to take the joy of it.

He didn't get respect, or admiration, or his father's pride for saving the city. He lost his home and his family. He was assumed to have done something monstrous because he was denied an opportunity to defend himself.

That was supposed to fill him with bitterness and regret - but he got to work building his own life instead. By the time you run into him, the Blade of Frontiers is a hero of some renown. He's remade himself, and found a way to enjoy what his powers can do, however he came by them.

So that didn't work.

Then Mizora sent him after Karlach, and that was a mission tailored to break him. Karlach is kind and heroic herself, and that the start she has been sold into slavery, mutilated and forced to fight in a war against her will. If Wyll killed her, and then found out who she really was, then he betrayed everything the Blade of Frontiers is supposed to stand for - and he would lose the life he made for himself.

But he didn't, and that didn't work either. He's got a friend, now, who at least knows part of what he's dealing with.

So Mizora gave him demonic features. That would destroy the life he's made for himself, because no one would trust him to help them.

Except now Wyll basically goes nowhere on his own, and a small army of people can attest that he got those horns and eyes as punishment for being a good man. Mizora might be able to shut his mouth, but she can't silence his friends - and the group absolutely have shouting sessions about everything. Wyll's horns become a battle scar, like his missing eye, and nothing more.

And beyond that, if you are playing as a heroic character, a significant throughline in the game's story is the journey of the tiefling refugees. The story makes it clear that these people experience a constant barrage of racism, due to their appearance and "demonic" heritage. It also makes it abundantly clear that this prejudice is entirely undeserved - they're just people, with virtues and flaws like everyone else, and what is happening to them is terrible. So Wyll turns up to assist a bunch of people whom he now at least somewhat resembles - and with Karlach along, you have two people in the group who technically count as "infernal", but haven't got an evil bone in either of their bodies.

Mizora created solidarity. Oops.

Wyll is deeply suspicious of gods and higher powers. He doesn't want to make more deals with devils. When Elminster arrives to tell Gale what Mystra demands of him, he explicitly says he does not do religion. When you get Mizora to agree to let his contract expire in six months, he starts by casually invoking the gods - but switches to thanking the player character instead, because he knows who helped, and who did not.

But he utterly refuses to regret the pact he made. That can be a struggle. He clearly misses his dad, and would like that relationship repaired. The fact that he was transformed very much against his will is clearly a source of distress from him.

But if he regrets, then Mizora wins. That's it. Game over. She gets what she wanted all along. So he doesn't.

The main companion characters all have this kind of problem, and naturally have different ways of dealing with it. You have characters like Shadowheart and Lae'zel, who were indoctrinated as children, or Gale, who was literally seduced by one of these nightmare deities - and with them you have to start out by convincing them they they were the wronged party in the first place.

But Wyll knows exactly what game he's playing, and he's been screaming defiance the whole time. It's just that, in his case, the "defiance" is grinning and carrying on every time Mizora inflicts some more bullshit on him.

[leggerefiore]

We’ve seen how Pokémon characters react to being sick but how would Maxie + various other Pokémon characters of ur choosing react to you being sick?

cw: reader sick with a cold

characters: Maxie, Archie, Lysandre, N, Guzma

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The minute you begin to show signs of being ill, Maxie is banishing you to bed. Unlike with himself, he does not want to risk your pathogen spreading throughout his team and worries about your health. Unfortunately, he becomes a bit nervous to be around you due to a small bit of germaphobia. The redhead does get over it when you keep asking for him, however. This leads to him quarantining himself away with you to prevent further spreading it around. He also finds himself fretting over it being something worse than it actually is.

🪨 He sends out grunts to buy whatever you may possibly need to get over your bout of illness. Medicines, tissues, a humidifier, a dehumidifier, a heating pad – anything. Maxie is certain to make sure you have everything that could possibly aid you in getting over your sickness. He will help away any sweat from fevers and make sure that everything is clean around you both, too. Disinfectant is used gratuitously. Of course, excluding excessive physical contact. He loves you, yes, but he does not feel like joining you in bed-rest.

🪨 You watch him scramble out of your shared quarters at some lucid point of going in and out of consciousness and wonder what he is doing before passing back out. Yet, the slumber is short as the smell of something hot singes your nose. Maxie has returned with a soup, made by him. He may not be the best cook, but he carefully made a favourite quick meal of it to help boost you up. Its spice is nothing to scoff at, and somehow clears your sinuses from its sheer heat. You can only stare at him in wonder while downing water. Maxie seems very smug about this all.

🪨 Once again, cuddling is not happening. He cannot stand the idea of getting sick and being unable to focus on his work. Not to mention how certain he felt that Courtney sneaked into his quarters the last time he was sick and snapped a picture of him. Though, towards the end of the illness when he knows it's nowhere near as contagious as it was during the earlier stages, he may give in. He crawls under the covers at your side and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Your head ends up pressed to his chest as he tries to figure out how much longer you should be like this. At some point, you fall asleep, and he does not have the heart to push you away in the end.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 He honestly probably doesn't catch the earliest signs that you are getting sick. Archie just does not get sick often enough to understand what is happening. Though, after it becomes complete apparent you are ill, he makes sure you can be comfortable in bed. It most likely was something going around in Lilycove that his grunts accidentally brought in with him. The Aqua Leader ends up stuck at your bedside, too. Poor guy cannot handle his Luvdisc being in such a situation. (Shelly sprays him down with disinfectant when he leaves his quarters, knowing full well be didn't clean himself nor use any germ killer. She alone prevents the spread of the illness.)

💧 If you just vaguely mention wanting something while sick, he rushes out himself to get it. Local pirate man spied at a pharmacy buying up an inordinate amount of cold medicine. Probably got questioned by someone, but somehow got off. He also grabs whatever else you may have requested. Endless tissues, air humidifier (though it is probably unneeded in the seaside cave you live in), snacks, gifts – He runs into the Lilycove Department Store and nearly loses his mind. Archie just wants to help you get better as soon as possible.

💧 Somewhere in the madness of it all, grunts spy him in the hideout's kitchen. They can only wonder what he is making, but the smell of seafood clearly wafts through the air. You get pulled from a light slumber to a bowl of some kind of fish stew. Archie holds it out with big eyes. Needless to say, it was eaten by you. Even if Archie had to spoon it to you in a few moments of weakness. Truthfully, his cooking was not that bad. Just a tad heavy to consume while sick. You did somehow feel better after eating it, too.

💧 Honestly, when it comes to affection, he is all over his partner no matter what. Even if you are sick, he wants to be stuck to your side. You do not even have to ask for him to cuddle because his arms already tight around you and have you pulled into his chest. Your comfort is more than met. Archie even barely goes for kisses, despite the obvious risks. Your emotional needs are just as met as your physical needs. It made you wonder if that was why you became better so quickly. And, somehow, Archie managed not to get sick, either. His immune system appears to be something to be feared.

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ The tall man feels stricken when you begin to develop the tell-tale signs of a cold. Especially as you try to continue going throughout life as you usually do. Lysandre quickly works to change that. Right before your cold gets worse, you find yourself forced into bed by your very distressed boyfriend. He scolds you for neglecting your own health. His heart aches at the thought of you suffering for no reason. Needless to say, when a near seven-foot man tells you to rest, you probably end up resting. Your shared home is kept clean by his efforts and that of a housekeeper, thankfully.

☕️ He already buys you everything you could possibly want, adoring to shower his darling in gifts. But, now, he is doing it in a frenzy. Special orders for medicines he believes will truly aid in shortening your illness and help alleviate your more painful symptoms. Tissues are always in supply near you and anything from a humidifier to some weird home remedy he does not quite understand but nonetheless gets for you. He only wishes to bring you comfort and happiness in your unfortunate state.

☕️ It comes as no surprise that he makes sure all the food you eat (in general) is extremely healthy and filling. He only has the best made for you by a restaurant he finds to by one of the best in Kalos. Of course, there is a time you find yourself eating an unfamiliar soup after waking up quite late from a near all-day slumber. Its flavour is pleasant and there is clearly a lot of skill put into making the dish, but it was obviously not made by the usual person who apparently had been making your food. You only learn it was a personal recipe that Lysandre had made after getting over your sickness. Supposedly, it was something that Sycamore had made for him at some point during their long friendship.

☕️ Lysandre is a rare hesitant about affection while you are ill. The last thing he needs in his busy schedule is to be forced to rest. Team Flare would almost certainly fall about without his leadership, and his duties as the president of his labs would stack up to a distracting degree. Yet, still, when you look at him with pleading eyes in such a condition, he feels weak to his own love for you. He gives in, allows you cling to him. Perhaps a bit of physical comfort would give your immune system the boost it needed to get through all this. You both end up drowsing off, cuddled up together.

🌿N👑

🟢 He is not sure how to react when your cold becomes too obvious to ignore. Panic consumes as he thinks about statistics of deaths related to illness, before he recalls what his sisters used to do for him when he was younger. Suddenly, your green boyfriend is dragging you back to bed and demanding you rest. N is so very worried. He has never had to handle another person being sick, so having his lover be the first one is making him fret too much. Hilda finds herself in a hard place when N calls to ask what to do and has to give him a run-down. He was a very quick learner, thankfully.

🟢 He finds himself unsure what to get for your symptoms, so he probably nearly grabs one of everything for cold medicine in the hopes it makes you get better fast. This, too, means he ends up buying some strange homeopathic things, but honestly, it is the thought that counts. And, he did actually manage to grab a few helpful things in his whirlwind shopping trip. N was also careful to stock up on tissues and the like. He just wants to help you get better so desperately and seems to be trying literally everything to help you.

🟢 This includes cooking. While he is not too familiar with the skill, he quickly finds aid in both his pokemon and human friends. Hilda makes sure he follows the recipe as best as he can, while the pokemon bring him the best ingredients out from the wild (besides what he had to buy). The dish is carefully made before being brought to you as you wake up from an extended nap. The soul is very herbal and probably skews a bit too bitter, but the love N put into making it is obvious. (You did feel strangely more energetic after finishing it, too.) He is happy that you enjoyed his desperate attempt to cook for you.

🟢 Poor green boy is stuck to you like glue while you are in such a state. The fear of getting sick does not even occur to him, all he simply wants to do is make you feel better. His affection is always so gently and warm with a hint of desperation. You probably feel completely at ease with the near always present touch of your adoring boyfriend. Thankfully, his immune system is hardened from his youth spent partially in the forest, so he does not get sick too easily. Though, he trusts if he falls ill that you would care for him all the same as, he did for you.

💀Guzma🕶

□ The minute you begin to show signs of sickness, Guzma honestly begins to worry. He does not express it aloud, of course. His reputation must be upheld, but you do notice him pushing you to rest. Whenever he gets up, he is extra careful to keep quiet and scolds any grunts making noise outside his room. Big bad Guzma just wants his partner to rest and get over whatever was coming over them quickly. Eventually, though, he does actually demand you rest. Your steps were a bit too wobbly for him to want you wandering around in the endless rain of the dilapidated Po town.

□ Poor guy rushes into a pharmacy in a near frenzy trying to find things he swore worked the last time he came down with something. The clerk can only watch this delinquent scrutinises an antihistamine like he actually understood how the active ingredients worked. Eventually, he settles on two he trusts before buying them, heading back to you. He also grabbed a few boxes of tissues, but they go so fast he finds himself out buying more a day later. Guzma also grabs anything else he thinks might help. Like tea. His mom always told him to drink tea when he was sick, so it has to work. (He has no idea what he is doing, but he is trying his best.)

□ At some point, he realises there is no food in Po town that is good for someone who is sick, so he has to grab ingredients while he is out buying more tissues. It feels like a never-ending cycle of madness. Then, when it came down to actual cooking, he tried his best to make something edible. That failed, however, and he instead returned to the tried and true canned soup. Hopefully, chicken noodles would cure your ailments. You happily eat the soup, and thank him for going out of his way for you. He can only give a laugh.

□ He does hesitate a bit when you first get sick with affection. Guzma actually despises feeling ill due to the weakness associated with it. But, when you tug on his jacket when he is about to leave, he finds himself relenting a bit. Fine, yeah, he will cuddle his sick partner. If he gets sick, then thankfully he already has medicine to take and a stash of canned soup. It also feels nice to comfort you as you nuzzle into his chest. You probably hate being in your condition in a place like this. He just combs his fingers through your hair and gives you a light scalp massage. At some point, you both fall asleep.

[fatefulfaerie]

Tears

“Link!” Penn exclaimed, wings outstretched in excitement. “What a great sense for news you have! Here I am chasing a new lead on the Princess and my partner appears before my eyes!”

Link hadn’t seen Penn since they finished chasing all the leads they had on the Princess’ whereabouts. It was at least a month since they went from stable to stable, Link almost believing the Yiga’s tricks and getting barely a wink of sleep until all twelve were dead ends. He was left just as lost as when he started until he found Impa and sunk himself into the mysterious geoglyphs that dotted the land. Link hadn’t yet found the courage to admit to anyone the truth about Zelda, so he pretended the best he could to be the eager, young reporter Penn knew him as.

“I’ve heard that Zelda has a homestead here in Hateno,” he continued. “Villagers tell me it’s across this bridge, but I’m afraid I’m at a standstill. You see, investigating her home for clues seems to go against my morals as a journalist. This may have to be a story we leave be.”

It was public knowledge that Princess Zelda lived in Hateno. That was no news story.

“What’s the lead?” Link asked. “Was she seen here recently? S-since her disappearance I mean.”

“It may be hearsay but rumors have been circulating that the Princess is married,” Penn said. “The villagers here have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’m thinking it’s no more than gossip. Traysi wanted me to check it out nonetheless. I’m thinking we at least find the may–”

Link averted his tear-filled gaze.

“Link, are you all right?”

“I…I’m fine,” he stammered. “Just…allergies.”

“Where,” he began weakly, but forced his voice to be stronger. “Where does the lead come from?”

“An old Zora at the Domain,” Penn answered. “He’s losing his memory but tends to spout some random things about his long life in an effort to keep a grasp on it. His niece heard him talking about marrying the Princess to someone, but he didn’t specify who. She was so excited about the prospect that she sent word to Traysi.”

Link looked notably nervous as he hugged his arms close.

“Don’t…don’t run the story,” he said in a hushed voice, no longer meeting Penn’s gaze at all. 

Penn looked confused.

“Link…what do you mean? Do you know something?”

“It just…it paints her in a bad light.”

“Link, I know you care about the princess’ public reputation. Your work at the paper honors that gleamingly. Your search for the absolute truth is inspiring to the whole team. You service our kingdom and our princess well.”

Link steadied his nerves with a deep breath and a slow blink of his eyes.

“It was me,” he admitted, quietly at first.

Penn blinked, shocked. He assumed he heard wrong.

“What?”

“It was me!” Link finally burst out pointing at himself. “All of it, everything. The mysterious hero who came out of nowhere and saved Hyrule from the calamity, me. I brought Zelda here and we built a life, and it was a good life. I married her because I loved her. We didn’t tell anyone because goddesses the Yiga were trailing her everywhere and everyone was looking at her to rebuild but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore because she’s gone, okay? She’s gone! That’s it, that’s your story. She’s a magic, floating dragon in the skies because I failed her again. She sacrificed herself for this kingdom and no one will ever know because there’s no proof! Nothing! No one else sees the dragons but me, so that’s what I have for you, absolutely nothing! I have nothing!”

Link panted and Penn stared. He blinked his eyes once, twice. Link expected him to call him crazy. Instead, he pointed his white-feathered wing at the house across the bridge.

“That’s your house?”

Link’s disbelief was shown in his face.

“Yes.”

Penn looked at the house for a moment, letting the breeze sift through his feathers.

“Link I think in a time like this Hyrule would quite like to hear a story like this about their Princess,” Penn said. “I don’t think your story paints her in a bad light in the slightest. In fact, it may be the heartwarming tale people need right now.”

Link’s gaze angled down and pondered the suggestion.

“And no, they won’t believe that she’s turned into a dragon,” Penn continued. “But they will believe as I do how much you loved her, and how she must have loved you.”

Link nodded.

“If you don’t mind I’d like to interview you,” Penn admitted. “In the house you built together. You’ll get final approval of the story I send to Traysi.”

Link looked up and over at the house. It felt like he hadn't been there in ages, like it was a lifetime ago that he went in scouring for clues, hoping she'd just be around the next corner. Waiting for her was like waiting for a sunrise that would never come.

“No, I don’t mind.”

[modelbus]

Who else could I possibly do this for except Wilbur? And does this even count as fluff?

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 28 - History has its eyes on you

Wilbur’s hunched over a map, furiously scribbling on it. The sight makes you wince. Not because he’s defiling a priceless map of the country—he is—but because of what a mess he looks like. Unkempt hair spills wildly into his eyes, glasses smudged and dirty. His usual elegance and fashion is nowhere to be seen, leaving him in simple pants and a mismatched sweater.

You’ve been at war for 131 days, going on 132, and he’s been like this for all of them. It’s what war does to someone in charge, you assume. The leader of a country that was fighting for its life.

Everyone expects your country, and him, to lose. Wilbur’s determined not to let that happen.

“I brought tea.” You announce, setting the cup directly on top of the map.

“Thanks.” He murmurs distractedly, reaching for it and taking a drink. Wilbur pauses, narrowing his eyes and looking up at you. “This is—“

“Chamomile.” You confirm for him. “You need sleep, Wil.”

“I need to be strategizing. I need to be right here, doing everything I can.”

This is a familiar routine. In the midst of war, you enjoyed these familiar things. New and old.

“You’re of no help if you run yourself to death. A nap, Wil.”

“I really should start making you call me by title.” He grumbles, unmoving.

“And I really should start just dragging your ass to bed.”

Rounding the table, you stand next to him to stare at what he’s looking at. You manage more of the financial side of things, not the actual fighting, so all the lines and marks look like nonsense to you.

“I’m thinking we need to defend here more heavily. Our exports rely on it.” Wilbur taps a city along the water with his pencil end. There’s already loads of marks around the spot. “But that’s leaving this spot open. We can fill it by delegating soldiers from here, but we’re spread thin then.”

He was going to drive himself to the brink of insanity.

“Just take a break, please.” You implore. Although you’ve been regularly bringing him meals and water, sleep is a necessity too. “A nap. Two hours. I’ll even wake you.”

“Do you have any idea how many places can fall in two hours?”

“None, because your generals are the very best. Trust them.”

Wilbur scowls at nothing in particular, making you sigh.

“Let someone else take the reins for now.” You coax, hoping you’ll be making it somewhere.

“History has its eyes on me, not anyone else. Their failures are my failures.” He retorts.

You’ve known him since childhood, yet never would’ve imagined him in this situation. In charge of a country at war.

“History can wait.”

His head snaps up, and he finally turns his entire body towards yours. “No it can’t! We’re making it right now, and we need to…”

Wilbur trails off as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. After a long moment he relaxes into it, dropping his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I can’t leave my country without me.” He murmurs into your ear.

“You won’t.” You promise. “I’ll get work done while you sleep, how about that?”

“Not for long.” He argues. Somewhere along the way, this turned into a negotiation rather than begging. You’ll take the progress.

“Eight hours.”

“One.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Five.”

“Three, and that’s final.”

“Deal.” Three is more than you expected from him, so you’ll take it. “Now, respectfully, get your ass out of here and into bed.”

Wilbur laughs softly into your shoulder. You can feel his smile pressed against your skin, which, in turn, makes you smile.

“Just another minute of this?” He implores quietly.

“Anything that you need.”

History does have its eyes on Wilbur, and unfairly so. But you’ll make certain his name in the history books will be gilded with gold, esteemed highly.

After a deep breath, Wilbur pulls away and straightens. He gives a longing glance back at his map, one you intercept immediately.

“No.” You deadpan. “Go.”

“And here I thought I had the highest position.” He grumbles, heading towards the door. He pauses there, looking back at you. “Thank you.”

“I’m not your best friend for nothing, Wil.” You reply softly.

He nods his head, then vanishes. You look around the room, taking in the multiple dull pencils and maps. There’s maps on the floor even, making your cringe. You said you’d get work done while he slept, and you will.

But first, you’ll clean this mess up for him.

[ryanthel0ser]

Now that I've read the DMC4 novel, the scene Dante tells Nero that Vergil is his father has changed for me. Having that extra context has me changing my interpretation of the whole scene and why Nero doesn't go looking for answers during that 5 year period between DMC4 and 5

Disclaimer: this is my own opinion and thoughts, not fact just speculation based on what we've been given

It's very easy to say that the scene where Dante tells Nero about Vergil that Nero is clueless before this and that this is some kind of new revelation to him. The DMC4 novel though implies Nero has some idea that Vergil, or to be specific, Dante's brother is his father. Not only does he refer to Yamato as his birthright but Sanctus straight up states

“It all makes sense now. That man must’ve been a descendant of Sparda. He must have impregnated a woman from Fortuna…”

TO Nero.

So what are the facts Nero knows:

He's a descendant of Sparda

His father was a foreigner

Yamato belonged to Dante's brother

Yamato chose Nero to wield it after he repaired it

Dante's brother has been dead for a while

So it's easy for Nero to assume that Dante's brother may have been his father, the problems that have now arisen are that last point and that the guy with any answers just left. I believe in Before the Nightmare, Nero thinks something along the lines of "his brother has been long dead, so why does it matter" to sort of shrug off the thought. But why shrug off this thought? Nero remarks how he had always wanted someone like Dante in his life (which he is a little annoyed with himself about because...it's Dante, who is nonstop teasing him) so why not think about his father and want to know more? I think there are two main reasons as to why Nero doesn't pursue more information.

Why get to know the guy if there's no chance you'll ever meet him? It's a sad thought yes, but from Nero's position it's a safe one. He's dealt with and is dealing with a lot of grief from both Kyrie's parents dying and Credo dying, adding on the yearning to meet a man that has been long dead would only make things worse for him. It's likely he also developed this defense during his time at the orphanage; he probably for a bit wanted to know who his parents were and wondered if they'd come for him at some point, but after years of wishing and wondering why he was abandoned he put up a defense of "it doesn't matter, so why try looking into it" and turned his attention to his present day family: Kyrie, Credo and their parents.

Fortuna is a wreck and I nearly lost Kyrie, I don't want to leave her alone to deal with all this and any possible danger that might arise We get a scene at the end of the DMC4 novel of Nero and Kyrie helping out with the recovery and in Before the Nightmare we know they are still helping and now running the orphanage, but are HELLA poor because Kyrie accepts payment in meat and veggies instead of money (cause she's a saint like that). Additionally, there are still demons appearing on occasion although not at the rate they were before the whole Savior incident. His whole motivation (ha) for fighting and keeping Yamato was to protect Kyrie, and after nearly losing her and losing Credo it's not a surprise he decides to stick by her side during these five years. He already had to watch her grieve her parents, now he has to be there for her when she grieves for her brother whilst doing everything she can to help the survivors. Leaving her alone does not justify the want for answers to Nero.

Having this in mind now, let's look at the situation surrounding Vergil's return and the scene Dante tells Nero "he's your father" from Nero's perspective.

He just learned from V that the giant demon king named Urizen is actually Dante's older brother Vergil and that they're fighting each other despite being brothers based on their opposing ideas

This mysterious guy who showed up out of nowhere with a ton of answers for things and none about himself is now deteriorating rapidly and wants to be there for when Urizen is defeated

V landed the final blow and all of a sudden there's a guy there who is apparently Vergil and he and Dante immediately begin fighting before Vergil leaves

He thanks me???

Somehow V was part of that guy

Dante is refusing to let me fight even though this guy taking my arm kicked this whole thing off

To us the audience, this doesn't seem as strange because we're used to DMC nonsense like splitting your being in half but to Nero who has only dealt with the events of Fortuna and this past month this is still bizarre and seems like the most insane set of events to happen.

And then Dante has the audacity to tell Nero to go home and that it doesn't concern him. This is the man that took his arm, the one that took his power, the one that nearly killed Dante, the one that is responsible for thousands maybe even millions of lives being taken and despite how confident Dante was in Nero last time they met in Fortuna and has seen what he is capable of with the Devil Breaker he seems to have thrown that all away?! His own rage at the whole situation blinds him in that moment and Dante hits him with

"He's your father!"

This snaps Nero out of it. As Dante explains, we can almost see the implications of it all set in for Nero. It makes perfect sense. But this man took his arm. This man was supposed to be dead. This man has caused so much destruction. This man was the one he had been working with this whole mission and the one he was fighting. This is the man that Nero never imagined even meeting. And he was alive, he was real, but could this be called a good thing when he's caused so much pain for others and Nero himself?

Nero has gained so much information in the span of an hour and now Dante is on his way to fight Vergil that is guaranteed to kill one or both of them. Like Nero says on the phone with Kyrie, he's suddenly gained a family and he might lose both of them if he doesn't do something. And he's not losing anyone else.

[oddballwriter]

Werewolf!Moon Boys SFW Headcanons

Warnings: body horror, nothing graphic but the idea of the shifting process between human and werewolf is considered a form of body horror. Otherwise, wholesome monster bf content.  

Author’s Snip: I'm making food for the monster fuckers/lovers because no one else is in this fandom does and so I have decided to make our meals because I can and someone's got to do it.

Notes: Shout out to @piecesofusboth for the inspo. You are so right that a moon boys werewolf au is so perfect. I'm ashamed that I hadn't thought about it sooner.

Also, shout out to the og @melodygatesauthor too and her vampire MK series The Dark Side of the Moon and vamp!moon boys HCs. She is one of the few who have been feeding us with both monster moon boys and some tidbits of Khonshu. She also has some vampire reader content so go see that as well. Go read it, it's banger stuff.

And if you want I also have a series of my own revolving around a (gender-neutral) vampire reader and the moon boys, so if you're interested it's called Dwelling in the Night.

Anyways, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Living

So I envision that the boys live somewhere secluded in the woods so that they can transform without people seeing them and getting scared and also because being a werewolf in a city with nowhere to really run doesn't sound ideal

They all like it in their own ways.

Marc because he likes it because no one will see them or come across them when they're out

Steven because I think he'd just like the atmosphere because he seems like the type to like living in a nice cabin and reading when they aren't affected by the moon

Jake because it gives them somewhere to run around when they turn

It is a bit of a hassle though because sometimes if they turn in the house they scratch something up or leave fur everywhere that someone will have to clean up when the sun returns and they turn back to normal

Turning

Turning doesn't exactly feel good. Obviously, because their whole body structure is shifting and changing in a short amount of time

Marc

Marc will usually leave the house before the moon fully rises because he doesn't want anyone to see it, even if you are his partner and you know and accept it

He just doesn't want you to see it in case it actually scares you off despite you saying that you won't

Marc also isn't too sure what would happen either. I'm going off the idea that when they turn they sort of lose themselves and are a bit more animal-like but still somewhat themselves. So he doesn't remember everything that happens and he doesn't want to risk possibly hurting you

So Marc will leave to turn somewhere in the woods and do whatever during the night in his state of mind and being, knowing that before he fully turns back he will come back to the house. That or he passes out close by and walks the way back

Steven

Steven doesn't really like the whole 'being a werewolf' thing and is actually really scared and anxious whenever the full moon is coming up

He'll also make an attempt to leave before he turns, both to not potentially scare you and as to not make a mess in the house

I do think that he has a little bit more trust in both you and himself though

If he notices that he can recognize things while turned then he slightly tests out the theory that he might recognize you and not harm you

That's how he and the rest of the system find out that they can, in fact, recognize people and things even when in werewolf state and mind

Jake

I think Jake sticks to the no turning inside the house rule most of the time but I also like to think that he says that it's fine if you let him in the house so long as he's not like... tearing shit up

I feel like because the transformation can be stress-inducing, Jake will often be the one fronting while turning and being in their werewolf state, and maybe with being more experienced in being in that state he's just a little bit more there compared to Marc and Steven

Jake will still run around and get everything and anything out of their system while in their werewolf state, but he will actually let you join and be around with him when he's like this

Like usually Marc will tell you not to be near them and Steven will say that you can be with him so long as he's not showing any potential of hurting you, but Jake outright says that you're good to be with him and walk with him around if you want

Aftercare

Turning back to normal is just as exhausting and takes out a lot from them, so you need to take care of them when the sun starts coming back and their body starts shifting back

Marc sometimes passes out before making it back home, and I like to think that he feels cared for when you do the effort to wake up extra early to go find him and bring him back home

He doesn't ask for much, just that you help him clean himself up and lay down

Steven is more aware of time and will be able to make it back and will make an effort to come back in just before exhaustion takes him

Just try and pick him up and carry him to a hot bath to help soothe his sore limbs and lay him in bed so that he can rest comfortably

Jake for the most part just wants you to be there while he shifts back

It might not be a whole lot but having you there gently shushing him feels nice to him. Afterwards, you can help him to bed

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part IX: horseshoe overlook v

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

summary: Three days after watching Arthur fall, three days of grief, three days of regret, and it all comes crashing down on you in one bittersweet moment.

a/n: here we are fellas... a much awaited chapter, technically the second half of last chapter. Star waits three days at the bank of the river... and so I've made you wait three days too. I want to say a few things so if you're sticking around to read the notes buckle up. Firstly I could absolutely not have done this chapter without Margo (linked below). She literally held my hand through writing this lol, and offered me more support, kindness, and praise than I deserve. She gave me so many tips and ideas and suggestions for this and I'm just so proud of the way it turned out, thanks to her. This was a group effort for sure. Secondly, I'm still in shock from the level of support this series has been getting. Its just incredible to see how many people come back so consistently. Last but not least, I love you guys, really I do. And I can't wait to see what you guys have to say about this chapter.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, violence

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

It's been three days, searching the banks, knowing that he won't be back, won't be coming home. You saw him hit the water, and he didn't come back up. A fall like that is barely survivable. You know he's gone and it isn't until you allow yourself to think it that you break. All that you should have told him, should have opened up about and you didn't. You didn't. And now Arthur will never know any of it.

Arthur is gone, and he left thinking that you didn’t want him. You hate yourself, for your inability to open up and you hate him for this whole job. You told him you didn’t feel right about it but no one listened. Now he's gone and you're so mad, so angry with the world and your heart and him. 

It's pouring, thundering and lightning in the dark night and you've started to accept that he isn't coming back. In your head you know it, it's all you've thought about. You know he's gone, he's never returning to you, but your anger keeps you from returning to camp because what is the gang to you without Arthur? Can you really go back there and live with his ghost?

The rain pounds down on the top of your tent, falling down and drenching the ground. Lightning lights up the night, showcasing to you the dark, empty lake. John had come by a day ago, and when you realized he was alone your heart shattered all over again. It's a strange thing, you realize, to love someone but never have the courage to admit it until it's too late. Thinking back, you know you loved Arthur, it's obvious, but you couldn't admit it at the time. It took losing him to realize how much you need him. You don't know who you are, here now, without him. You belong nowhere, you have nothing, you want nothing other than him. 

You think about going up north, up to West Elizabeth for a while, but you can't bring yourself to leave the shore just in case. You haven't eaten. You haven't slept. You've been sitting in this tent at night haunted by ghosts and regrets, and surveying the lake in the day, futile as it may be. You know you need to do something, to go somewhere other than this damn shore, but you're lost. Your head tells you to run, but your heart tells you to go back to those who care about you. 

Arthur cared about you. And it's sick, and it's twisted but you're so mad at him for your feelings, so mad that he cared about you so much because it made losing him that much harder. 

Lost in thought, you don't even hear the footsteps as they approach the tent, nor do you hear Balius's quiet nicker. The rain doesn't help, coming down along with thunder that shakes the ground. You don't even notice his presence until he speaks up. 

"Star?" 

Everything stops. Your eyes go wide, and immediately fill with tears at the familiar, gravelly voice that you haven't been able to get out of your head for three days. At first you're sure you're imagining it, losing your mind, until he speaks up again. 

"Star? Y'in there?" He asks again, and too shocked and confused to speak, you crawl out of the tent. Your eyes land on him as you stand in the rain and you freeze, mouth agape. He looks…  he looks fine. And you take a step back as the emotion of it all comes crashing down. At first you're shocked and confused, and then you're relieved… and then you're mad. Because you spent three days thinking he was dead, and he's standing in front of you washed up in a brand new outfit with a smile on his face. The rain soaks in your clothes, drenching you as you try to breathe. 

"Where have you been?!" You cry out, full of emotion and fear and rage. Arthur sees it all playing out on your face, and his eyebrows draw together. 

"What-" He begins but you interrupt him.

"Why are you walking up here  like everythings just fine? Where were you?!" You half cry- half hiss, thinking of all the time you'd spent scanning the water, waiting for his body to wash up. 

"Swam down the river and hid out for a couple days till the bounty hunters lost me." Arthur sighs like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "What's the matter wit you?" 

Arthur isn't used to having someone to return to. No one asks or complains if Arthur comes back late from a job, he's never had anyone care so much as to worry for him like this- he's just not used to it.

You huff, a humorless, sarcastic laugh. 

"So you were just hidin' out?" You ask as a loud boom of thunder shakes the ground. 

"Yeah." Arthur huffs, irritated with your attitude. Your tone is angry, condescending and sarcastic as you continue on. Tears fill your eyes, but he can't see them in the dark.

"Well, I'm glad you've been safe all this time." You reach into your tent grabbing his hat before throwing it towards him angrily. "Here's your damn hat. Found it washed up in the river after you fell. Y'know, it would have been nice if you let me know- If you let me know you were just camping, taking a few days off while I've been here!" You yell, fighting back sobs, watching as he grips his soaked hat, growing more confused. 

"Star- what is your problem?" 

"It doesn't even matter." You toss your hands in the air, chuckling humorlessly. Your hair is soaked through, and Arthur glances to the sky as it lights up with bright white lightning. 

"Clearly it does matter! Ain't my fault you can't express your damn feelings!" He yells, growing angry alongside you. 

"Oh, that is rich coming from you. Like you can?!" You immediately bite back, voice growing louder as you step closer to him. 

"Yeah! I can, with you! I told you about my past, about my son and my parents and Mary! And I know nothing- I know nothing about you- what you want, where you've been." Arthur yells louder than the thunder, pointing his finger in your face as he does so, "You won’t open up and it's killing you. God- what are you so afraid of?! What's holdin’ you back? It's eating at you and you won't just deal with it SO WHAT IN THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLE-" 

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" You yell, stepping forward with your shoulders squared, meeting him with just as much aggression. You're so angry with him, for the train and for coming back like nothing happened. Your anger gets the better of you as you lean forward, hands pressed against his chest and you shove him backwards with all the fire you can muster, growling as you do. He stumbles backwards, eyebrows drawn together as you ball your fists, ready to scream at him, to berate him for leaving you out here. But at the thought, something in your heart cracks, and the fire and the rage pales in comparison to the fear of losing him. 

A loud boom of lightning sounds out, and Arthur prepares for your inevitable verbal knives with his eyes cast on the ground, but you never throw them. 

When he looks back up, your shoulders are rising up and down heavily, and your finger points at him like you're about to chastise him, but you don't. He watches as your shoulders slump slightly, and he sees the way your hand, pointed at him, falters. Glancing up to your eyes, he sees that you're fighting back tears, and biting down on your lip to stop it from trembling. 

Exhausted, and terrified and hurting, you can't find it within you anymore to yell. In fact your voice is barely above a whisper as you meet his green eyes, 

"I spent days thinking you were dead… Do you have any idea what that was like?"  

Arthur sees the moment that you break. He watches as your face crumples, and he sees the pain that you've been going through. God, he didn't even think. He didn't even think. You crumple, erupting into quiet sobs as you hold your face in your hands. In two strides his arms are around you, and you sink into his touch, letting all of the pain and the grief be washed away by the rain.

"I'm so sorry, Star. Shit, I'm so sorry. I'm here. It's okay." He coos, protecting you from the rain with his warmth as you sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him to make sure he's really here. 

"John had to pry me away from that bridge…" You choke out, "I thought you were dead and I can't- I can't lose you, please, please don't leave me-" You whimper, feeling more vulnerable than you ever have in your life, but knowing that you trust Arthur with every fiber of your being to be the one to piece you back together. At your words, Arthur's heart shatters, falling to the ground in fragmented pieces along with your own that had fallen apart three days ago. Even with the rain, lightning and the pitch black, he cups your cheeks, pulling your teary eyed gaze up to him. 

"Look at me. You aren't alone- look at me, Star- I'm not going anywhere." 

And looking into his eyes, seeing him here, you know it's a promise he intends to keep. He's in front of you, he's safe, and having him here is too much and not enough all at once. He's scanning your eyes, searching for something to signal that you're going to be okay, and that's when it happens. With his hands resting on your face, and his eyes searching yours, you lean up on your toes, and you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have in you, ignoring the storm and the pain in your heart. You thought you'd never have the chance to do this. And with him here in front of you, you need him to know that you want him too. You've repressed so much love and so much emotion, and now that he's here in front of you, you can't help but feel it all. 

He's shocked at first, eyes open and lips slack until he catches up and leans back into you with just as much emotion. His eyes slip shut, and you curl your hands into his shirt, opening your mouth for him to gain entrance. Your tears slip down your cheeks, mixing in with your lips. It's hungry and raw and filled with the emotion of you terrified of losing him, and needing him in every way possible now that he's here.

You pull away to catch your breath, tears slipping down your cheeks as you look up to him, making sure once again he's still here. He smiles down at you, wiping your cheek with his thumb, smearing the rain and the tears away. And then you're pulling him back down to you, kissing him again with the same hunger, and he kisses you back. His hands grip onto your waist and he pulls you against him as your lips slot against each other. It's him who breaks the kiss this time, and he looks down to your eyes, his green irises searching yours and seeing the intention in your gaze.

"You sure you want this?" He asks you, rain soaking his hair and causing a piece to hang down in front of his face. 

"Stop talking." You whisper, barely a breath as you run your fingers through his hair before leaning up to kiss him again. Your hands grip onto him, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue mixes with yours. You need more, you need him. You need to know he's with you. 

Arthur seems to read your mind, hands grabbing the underside of your thighs as he pulls you up against him, carrying you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you only break the kiss momentarily as he carries you into the tent. He lays you down on the soft blankets, taking a moment to admire you laid before him in the lantern light. Then he lines your body, leaning over you on his forearms as the storm rages on outside. His lips are on you again, in the crook of your neck, kissing the spot where your pulse beats erratically. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, and as he kisses you, his left hand unbuttons your shirt. 

"You done this before?" Arthur asks, pressing messy kisses to your jawline. He remembers your conversation up in the Grizzlies, and he's almost certain this is new for you. You shake your head. 

"No." You admit. You're no saint, but you've never trusted anyone enough to go this far, not before Arthur at least. 

He exhales, nodding, but he seems hesitant, his hands slowing on your buttons. You grip either side of face, pulling his attention to you.

"I want it to be you. I need it to be you." You admit, whining as he groans, nodding. He leans back, sitting up in between your legs to shed his clothes. You help, pulling his shirt off of him quickly once the buttons are undone. He's left in just his jeans then, but you stop him from taking them off. You pull him down back over top of you, and he obliges, though a bit confused. 

"Kiss me." You plead, and he does. He kisses your lips over and over again, he kisses your neck and your jaw and your forehead while you get used to everything. He wants to do right by you, he wants to do this your way. 

You reach your hand down between your bodies as Arthur pops the last button to your shirt. You line your hand along the bulge in his jeans, and you press against it, eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. You smirk, popping the button of his jeans before slipping your hand inside. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling how much he wants you. 

It's overwhelming, all the feelings he gives you. In every way. He's perfect. Warm and loving, and his tan skin is kissed with freckles all over and he's so beautiful it makes your heart ache.

"I'm ready, but I don't know- How do we do this?" You whisper against Arthur's ear. You're letting him take control, and he nods, kissing your lips softly. 

"Let me take care of you, let me be strong for you." He whispers, pulling your shirt over your shoulders and kissing your collarbone until there is a mark.  Then he leans down, pulling your dark jeans down over your legs by the waistband, leaving you fully exposed. Once your denims hit the discarded pile of clothes, Arthur leans back, smiling down at you. You can't find it within you to be self conscious, not with the way he's looking at you. You lean up on your elbows, watching him drink you in as he leans up to grip onto your hand. 

"You're so beautiful…" He mumbles, eyes trailing up your figure lovingly. He squeezes your hand, and leans down to your right thigh where a messy scar lies, the gunshot wound from Blackwater. He kisses the scarred skin. 

"N' so strong." He whispers, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.  Leaning up to meet him, you crash your lips against his own, trying to shove his jeans down off his form. He chuckles, leaning back to shed the denim. Now both fully undressed, he stops, looking over you again. Your wet hair is sprawled out on the blankets, lips plump from where he's kissed them. He's sure you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"Arthur-" You whimper, pulling him back down to you by his hand. He takes his time warming you up. There's no rush, and you're so glad to just be together. 

He places kisses down your chest, in between the valley of your breasts, and you chuckle, fingers intertwining into his hair as you pull him back up to your lips. 

"Arthur?" You breathe out. 

"Hmm?" 

"Touch me." You plead, spreading your legs for Arthur. He smiles, running a finger down your thigh as he leans in to kiss your neck. You gasp, feeling his fingers brush against your core. He stops, groaning when he feels how wet you are, the sound cathartic. Then once you wrap your legs around his waist, he resumes his pace. His thumb gently rubs around the small bundle of nerves at your core, and you gasp, gripping onto his shoulders as he continues to kiss your neck. Then as his thumb continues, his middle finger stretches into your tight heat, and your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders. 

"Please, just-" You beg, but he stops you, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

"Sweetheart, I gotta take my time. I don't wanna hurt you." He says, and you nod, trusting him. He works his finger in you for a while, curling it up and coaxing little gasps from you. Then, he stretches a second finger into you, and you wince from the pull, but after a while of him working you, it starts to feel good. And shortly you're breathing quickly, ready. 

"Perfect." Arthur whispers, sliding his fingers out of you while he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms flex on either side of your head as he holds himself up, and your legs wrap around his waist as he lines himself up. 

"You ready?" 

"Yes, yes-" You mumble. 

You feel the tip of his length against your entrance, and you spread your legs even further for him. And then he's sliding in, slowly. You gasp loudly, gripping onto him tightly as he thrusts in, slow as to not hurt you. 

"S'it hurt? You okay?" Arthur asks, stilling as you toss your head back and pant. 

"No- yes-?" You whimper, acclimating to the feeling. You nod, signaling him to continue as the thunder rumbles outside, not nearly as loud as your gasping breaths.

"Oh, Arthur-" You moan as he slides into the hilt, and bumps into your sweet spot. He slides back out partially, and then picks up a slow, steady rhythm. Your body arches beneath him, and you moan, pulling his face down to yours in search of his lips, tears coming in rivulets. He kisses you again, giving you butterflies as he thrusts in and out of you. You grant him access to your mouth then, and when he pulls away to breathe, still thrusting steadily, you whimper, tears running down your cheeks. 

"Star?" Arthur asks, worried. And he stills his movements. 

"No- don't stop." You beg, pulling his head down into your chest as he resumes his movements. 

"I'm so glad you're okay Arthur." You cry, shaking against him as you hold his head against you. 

His lips are on yours then, reminding you that he is here with you, safe, loving you. 

"I'm right here, darlin'." He reassures, and you nod against him, biting your lip. You can't help the moans that you start to let out, timed with every one of Arthur's thrusts. He runs his thumb over your hard nipple, teasing it and giving you goosebumps. You don't have to worry about the noise, as there is no one to hear you but the raging storm outside. The power of the black clouds, bright lightning and pounding of rain pale in comparison to the crashing together of you and Arthur. Your moans seem to encourage Arthur, and he begins to thrust even harder into you, kissing you in between his movements. You can't keep your hands off of him, running them from his face, pulling his lips to yours or digging them into his shoulders as you gasp and moan. 

He feels the same way, gripping your hips, kissing your breasts, and your lips and your neck it's almost too much. You feel yourself approaching an orgasm quickly, but you fight it, clamping down on yourself in an attempt to slow the process. You don't want this moment to end, you could stay here forever with him, and never have to worry about anything else. But your abdomen clenches and you feel your nerves begin to tingle. Arthur isn't oblivious to this, and he runs his thumb over your sensitive bud, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Star, let go." He whispers, lightly biting your earlobe. You shake your head, gripping his shoulders as tight as you can manage. .

"No." You argue, squinting your eyes shut and shaking your head, thighs clamping around him as you try to stop the inevitable. 

"Darlin, let go. I told you, I'm not goin' anywhere." He whispers again, and you release, automatically setting off the intense waves of pleasure that crash down over you. You set Arthur over the edge, constricting around him and your moans fill the tent as you arch your back, pulling his lips down to yours. You moan into his mouth, hips rocking against his own as you climax, feeling so close to him and so intimate and vulnerable. You never knew it could be such a beautiful thing. 

He begins to groan loudly in your ear, and you pull him down to you as you continue to rock and moan against him. Your grip on him tightens, and you're not sure whether or not he's planning on pulling out, but you don't want him to. You need him with you. Your legs wrap even tighter around him and he gets the message. A few stuttering breaths later and Arthur groans, grinding his hips against you as he finishes in you, lips pressing kisses to your own between heavy groans and breaths. 

His forehead falls against yours, resting there as he catches his breath. You do too, still clinging to him in every way possible. After a few moments, he presses a slow kiss to your forehead, and then slides out of you. You wince from the pull, but once he lies down on the blankets beside you, he pulls you into the crook of his arm and covers you with the blanket. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by his heart beat after the past three days. 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, running his hand up and down your back over the blanket. You nod, truthfully. 

"I think I'm better than I've been in a long time." You admit. Arthur leans up on his elbow, grabbing your canteen from his side of the tent. 

"Here." He offers you the water, and you take it willingly, sipping down some of the cool liquid before handing it back to him.

You cuddle down against his chest again, hand sprawled out on his stomach as he looks up at the ceiling, thinking. 

"We gotta talk about this. Please, don't close up again, not now." Arthur says, worried that come morning you'll close yourself off again. You nod. Truly, you have no intention of hiding anymore, not after tonight. But for now you don't want to talk, you just want to be with him.

"In the morning?" You ask, tucking yourself into his side, yawning. 

"Yeah, in the morning." He whispers, and you lean up, pressing one last, slow kiss to his lips. He chuckles as you toss your leg over his, formed tightly against him. 

"Arthur?" You ask, not meeting his eyes. 

"Hmm?" He asks, hand still running up and down your back while the other holds yours tightly. 

"I'm so glad you're okay." You say again, a tear falling down your cheek and getting lost against his chest hair. You draw stars on his bare skin, distracting yourself as he wraps the blanket tighter around you both, protecting you from the thunder outside. 

"I know, sweetheart. S'alright now, you just get some sleep."

Everything seems to make sense now, like it's finally fallen into place. You grip onto his hand, holding it as you start to drift off to sleep. You're his grief, his joy, everything he desires and loves. And you feel the same about him. You've denied yourself this for so long, that finally having it happened in one big collision. You wouldn't change it, lying here with him now. You know you have to talk about this, and you have to get Arthur back to camp, but it's all a problem for tomorrow. Right now it is about the two of you, just existing together for the first time.  

— — — — 

When you begin to wake up, it takes you a few moments to come to your surroundings. Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes squinting to block out the harsh sunlight that is filtering through the tent flap. There is a strong, steady warmth underneath you, and realizing your surroundings, you smile. Your head is laying on Arthur’s chest, legs still intertwined and hands still locked together under the blankets from the night before. Arthur's other hand runs soothingly up and down your bare back, and you prop your chin on his chest to look at him.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks, voice deep and groggy. 

"Real good." You hum, telling the truth. You've slept in the same bed as Arthur on a handful of occasions, but you've never been able to do so as openly as now. You've never woken up so content before, even with the residual ache in your hips. It's a good ache, a reminder of where Arthur had touched you, binded his body to yours in the most intimate of ways.

"I'm sorry that I just… jumped you last night." You whisper with a chuckle, fingers running down Arthur's chest, tracing through the sandy blonde hair there. 

"Do you regret it?" Arthur asks, looking down at you sprawled over his chest. Immediately, you shake your head.

"No. Not at all." You say truthfully. Even though the circumstances around your crashing together were less than ideal, you don't regret it even for a moment.

"Good." Arthur hums, smiling down at you. 

It grows quiet for a while, comfortably so. You listen to the birds and the river, but mostly Arthur's steady breathing, and you realize that you could lie here with him forever. You thought you'd lost him, and now that he's here, you can't bring yourself to let go for fear that he will disappear again. At the thought, you realize that you've not discussed what happens now, and a question forms on your lips. Your hand is still intertwined with Arthur's, and you play with his fingers as you speak up. 

"I reckon I already know the answer to this… but this was more than just sex right?" You ask, a little nervous. You're almost certain this is an emotional commitment, but your anxiety still prods at you. Arthur cracks a smile, bringing your wrist up to his lips before tenderly kissing the point where your pulse beats.

"Yes," He laces his fingers back with your own, "I'm all yours darlin', if you'll have me."

"Always." You whisper, ear pressed against his chest. The rhythmic pounding of his heart is a sound you can't get enough of as you slip your eyes closed, still reassuring yourself that he's here. 

"We gotta head back soon," You sigh, "I know John is worried sick. I'm sure everyone else is too." You whisper, feeling a pang of guilt in your chest for keeping John in the dark while you'd kept Arthur to yourself all night. 

"Just a few more minutes." Arthur counters, wrapping his arms around your waist. His thumb glides over your lower back, and you look up to see him lost in his head again. 

"Why did you stay out here? Why didn't you go back to camp with the others?" Arthur asks, propping his hand under his head to look at you. 

"How could I have left you? I didn't know if you were alive, I didn't think you were, god- that fall… but the thought of you hurt somewhere, or needing help, I couldn't just leave." You whisper, emotion bubbling up again at the thought of his fall. You don't bother to hide it anymore, even though your nature wants you to. 

"I can't stop seeing it, Arthur. I've never been that scared in my life." You admit. 

"It was a hell of a fall, I'll tell you that. Hurt like hell hittin' the water too. I didn't even know if I was alive, the water turned me around real bad and then I was on the shore of the Upper Montana River." He explains, eyes lost in the memory, "Hid out for a while and I heard the law whistles so I stole a horse n' ran to Strawberry. I was so worried about you… I didn't see you get away." 

"Cause I didn't." You whisper, "John had to pull me away from the bridge. Athena carried me here and I sat in the grass the rest of the night just… waiting for you," You take a deep breath, a loose tear slipping down your cheek, "and then your hat washed up, and I was sure you weren't coming back."

You can't shake it. Every time you bring up the bridge it all comes rushing back. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't come back to you." Arthur hums, feeling terribly guilty as he sits up in the tent. You sit up next to him, pulling a blanket around your shoulders to cover your breasts. 

"Well, you're here now." You whisper, teary eyes looking into his. He shakes his head, and you see the regret in his eyes. 

"I shouldn't have called you a hypocrite. That was unfair of me." Arthur says, and your hand reaches up to his cheek, running through the thick stubble there. 

"No, you were right. That's somethin' I've thought about a lot the past few days, somethin' I plan on workin' on." You say, "And, Arthur, I shouldn't have gone through your journal."

Arthur huffs, humorously. 

"S'all you anyway." Arthur admits, and your eyebrows pull together, not understanding. 

"My journal. It's all you." He reiterates and you smirk. 

And then he's pulling you into his lap, unable to keep his hands off you now that he's able to touch you like this. 

"We have to go." You chuckle as Arthur runs his thumb over the purple splotches on your collarbone. His lips are on your jawline in a heartbeat, pressing slow, languid kisses to it. 

"They can wait." He whispers against your skin, thumbs gripping onto your bare hips as the blanket slips down from your shoulders. You lean into his kisses, loving the feeling of his lips on your skin, something you've denied yourself for so long. 

Your stomach grumbles lightly, and Arthur slowly leans back, raising an eyebrow at you. 

"You eaten anything?" He asks, and you sigh. 

"No." You admit, sighing as he slides you down off of his lap. 

"C'mon, let me make you breakfast." 

"Didn't think you were the type; cookin' a girl breakfast the morning after." You chuckle as Arthur starts plucking your wet clothes up off the floor, tossing them in a useless heap. 

"Yeah, well… only for you." Arthur huffs, grabbing your saddlebag from his side of the tent.

"You got any other clothes? These are drenched from the rain." Arthur asks, nodding to your outfit from last night. You nod, searching through the bag until you find a decent outfit. You grab a pair of black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt and you pair it with a tight black vest and a choker-style neckerchief, it's a damn cute outfit. 

“Alright, go on and get breakfast ready, I’m starvin.” You joke, pulling your shirt over your arms and buttoning it from the bottom up. Arthur laughs, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he groans, getting himself dressed for the day. 

He makes a little fire out front, and you smile, sitting at the entrance of the open tent as he prods and pokes at the smoldering logs with a stick. He puts on a little pot of coffee, and pulls a few cans from his satchel. 

“It ain’t much, but it’s what we got.” Arthur says, stabbing his knife into the top of one of the cans and cutting away the seal. He hands it out to you then, and you smile at the label. Strawberries, another delicious treat that Arthur had stashed away in his bag.

“It’s perfect.” You hum, slipping your fingers into the can and pulling out one of the berries. Today proves to be the calm after the storm, and despite the rain that soaks into the ground, covering the grass in a mist, the day is beautiful. The sun shines brightly down onto you and Arthur, sipping your coffees and making quiet, comfortable conversation. One by one, eating the berries, you begin to feel replenished. Not having eaten for the past three days, too devastated to even move, you devour your whole can of strawberries, and then you pick at Arthur’s. It breaks his heart a little, seeing how you’ve deprived yourself of basic needs in his absence, but he says nothing. You squint your eyes shut, relishing in the warm bitterness of your coffee until you’ve drunk it all down. 

“Thank you.” You say, placing the empty cup on the ground next to the empty cans, “For everything.”

“Course.” Arthur smiles, standing from the ground with a groan. He picks up the trash, and you raise an eyebrow at him as he tosses it into the woods. In just a matter of one night he’s managed to piece you back together, both physically and emotionally. It’s a debt you’ll owe him forever, though you know he’ll ask for nothing in return. 

“Star?” Arthur asks, looking at the tent as you stand from it, packing up, “This John’s tent?” He asks, looking over the familiar dark camping kit, one that he’s pitched his own next to on many occasions while out working.

Your eyes go wide and you snort, remembering that John had left you his camping kit back when you’d told him you planned on staying by the river. 

“Oh my god-” You say, horrified, “We’ll have to get him a new one.” 

Arthur chuckles, amused as he brings the tent down and starts packing it up with the blankets. 

“Nah, he won’t know.” Arthur brushes it off, snickering to himself. 

“Arthur-” You chastise, jaw open slightly as he rolls everything up and ties it onto the back of Balius. Arthur says nothing, a smirk on his lips as he walks to the front of his scarred shire, petting his head. 

“Missed ya, boy. I hope you took real good care of the lady while I was gone, I know you did.” Arthur whispers to his stallion, patting his neck a few times while pulling some mints from his saddle bag. He gives Balius one, and then looks back to you, blushing at the smile on your lips from his whispering. 

“Ready?” He asks, gripping the horn of his saddle. 

“As I’ll ever be.” You sigh, kicking dirt into the fire before mounting onto Athena, patting her in thanks for getting you across the river all those days ago.

You wonder what happens now. When you return to camp will Arthur showcase your newfound relationship?- If that's what you’re calling it, that is. You don’t know if things will slip back into their usual routine, or if this will change everything. You’re not ready for the gawking, hushed whispers of the girls, or the disapproving glare of Dutch. Though it's nonsensical, you feel that everyone will know what happened out here, and you feel terribly selfish for spending the night with Arthur when his own family didn’t even know he was alive. Still, you don’t regret it. 

Trotting across the river back towards Horseshoe Overlook, back towards home, you glance up ahead. Arthur is in front of you leading the way, and you release a breath, letting all of the worry and the guilt fall from your shoulders and be lost in the river. Because no matter what faces you back at camp, he's with you now, by your side with no intentions of leaving. You'll face it together.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie

[padfootagain]

All Too Well

This idea comes from this ask sent by @reg-arcturus-black where she asked what kind of fic I would write with the title ‘All Too Well’, and well… here is the result, because I have no self-control and the concept is thus turning into a full fic!

Hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Summary: Sirius is going through a rough day, as what he has lived with his parents come back to haunt him. Luckily, you’re here for him. You always are, despite knowing everything about him.

Word count: 2560

Sirius Black’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sometimes it strikes him, the way he’s broken.

It’s a strange thing, really. Because Sirius usually manages, especially when he’s in Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends, miles away from his parents and their twisted minds. He usually manages his darkest thoughts, the tug at his heart that makes him ache out of the blue, the hateful thoughts against himself that were planted long ago in his mind.

Today, he doesn’t, though.

He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because he’s been on his own almost all morning, the boys busy, you studying with Lily. Perhaps it’s because the weather is terrible, and he wishes he could turn into a dog and run across the Forbidden Forest to lose some energy. Maybe it’s because he bumped into his younger brother earlier this morning, and it simply struck him how much they have been drifting apart since he left Grimmauld Place; how Regulus looks like him, like their father…

He isn’t so sure, it’s probably a little bit of all these circumstances. No matter why, though, he can feel that he’s slipping down that familiar slope again. The one that fills his mind with pain and dark thoughts, his heart with something poisonous and hurtful, his blood with anger and longing. He recognises all the symptoms, he’s felt them a million times over.

And he knows what it means. He knows it all too well. The banging in his head. The voice that keeps on screaming there. The clammy hands. The rushing heart. The tight throat. The struggle for a breath. The knot in his stomach. And these thoughts... these thoughts that plague his mind, and he tries to shake them away but he can't he can't he can't; he knows it all too well, that the voices are true and that he's nothing, nothing, nothing at all...

He tries to close his eyes, to press his forehead against the cold windowpane, but it doesn’t stop the voices, doesn’t slow his heartbeat, doesn’t stop him from wanting to destroy everything and everyone around him just to make it stop for a mere second.

He’s taken refuge in his favourite hiding spot, a corridor on the fifth floor that leads to nowhere. There’s a window hidden behind the crooked statue of an old witch there. He likes that spot. No one ever comes down that corridor, and even if someone walked by, Sirius would be hidden by the statue. It’s perfect to be alone. That’s exactly what he needs for now.

He’s sitting by the window, temple pressed against the cool glass, and he drowns in the feeling of the cold against his warm skin. It almost hurts. He likes it. It anchors him.

There’s no sound in this empty corridor, except for the messy pattern of the falling rain. He can’t see anything by the window, there’s condensation all over the glass. All he can see are splashes of colour: the infinite grey of the sky that covers almost the entire frame, the deep green of the trees of the Forbidden Forest, the lighter green of the grass covering the grounds…

Maybe he should turn into Padfoot. It helps, sometimes. His thoughts are a little bit more messy, a little bit more cloudy when he’s a dog. His senses are heightened, but his mind gets blurry. And it helps when he hurts too much as a boy, because his thoughts are the reason behind his pain. If he can stop them, he can feel better again. At least, for a little while…

He closes his eyes, as images flash in his mind, scenes he wishes he could forget, but can’t. Reminiscence. A past still too close to be forgotten. He doubts he’ll ever manage to forget, anyway. There’s this feeling again, this feeling that he’s nothing, that he’s worthless, that he’ll always be but a ridiculous little boy afraid of the dark, that he’ll always break everything he touches.

And he knows where it comes from. He knows it all too well. From the shouts of his mother tearing up his nights. From the fists of his father against his cheeks. From the fear of his brother as he looks up at him in search for safety. From the curses, and the insults, and the hate the hate the hate that follows him everywhere that aims at his friends and that curses his very existence and that reminds him that he's unlovable, unlovable, unlovable...

And it hurts. It hurts because he fights this kind of thoughts with all his might, because he keeps on repeating to himself that these are just poisonous seeds planted by his parents, that none of it is real, that he’s different, that he can be different. That he can be loved, the way they could never love him. But there’s this voice that comes back every time. The one he knows all too well, that keeps on asking the same question over and over again…

What if they were right about you?

He jumps as he notices a movement next to the statue, but he relaxes quickly when he recognizes you. No threat. No ghost coming from his past. Only you.

You…

He’s not surprised that you’ve found him, but he would have preferred if you hadn’t come. He tries to show it by looking away without a smile, without a word. He wears his mask again, the cold one, the one that makes his handsome features look as cold and distant and unreal as a marble statue, as an unreachable sculpture, an inhuman one…

He stares at the colours outside, and he waits for you to say something. He’s expectant and afraid of it at the same time. You haven’t moved, you’re standing there, behind him, staring in silence. He’s not sure what he wants. Or rather… he knows. He knows all too well what he wants, but he’s not sure he should get it. Because he wants you to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him it will all be fine. But at the same time, he wants to shout at you just for being here, he wants to make you cry, he wants to push you away because that’s the kindest thing he could do for you, really… he’s broken. He’s broken, and you’re not, and you’ll end up like him one day, if you stay. That’s what darkness does: it spreads, like a virus, like something contagious, and once it holds onto someone, it never lets go again. And he won’t be the one to bring you such a cruel fate, because he… he loves you. He loves you too much for that.

One day, he’ll end up hurting you too much, and you’ll run, and he’ll shatter your heart. That’s all he’s been good at doing, anyway. A family trait. A Black legacy. Break everything you touch…

He wonders why you’re still here altogether, really. Because you’re so much better than him. You… You’re everything that could save him. Sometimes it feels too much to take in. Most days, it feels like surrendering. But it can’t last. It won’t, he knows it, somehow. You’re too good for him.

And he knows he doesn't deserve you. He knows it all too well. Because you're so bright against his darkness. Because you're too kind. Because he's a mess. Because you're patient. Because he's reckless. Because you love him, for some unknown reason. Because you look at him with so much love, he hopes you can see that he loves you just the same. And you come back again and again and again, and he doesn't have a clue why you're still clinging onto him when he's got nothing to offer you but his shattered heart, his crooked smile, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind, his fucked-up mind...

He wants to cry at the thought, but he hides it well, he’s used to it. Where he comes from, you can’t be weak. He’s used to it… but not near you, that’s the tough part. You have a talent to break him into pieces, tear him apart, open him up raw and bloody and cradle his soul in your hands until he feels like he really had one in the first place. You have a talent to get under his skin, and to see right through this pretty, unreachable mask he’s wearing now. He has others of the same kind: there’s the flirtatious one, the stupid one, the cruel one, the uncaring one, the scary one. All masks. Inside, he’s the same broken boy every time. Sometimes, when he hears you laughing, when he listens to James’s plans, when he looks at Remus studying, when he shares his candies with Peter, he becomes more like the person he could have been had he not been so shattered during his childhood: reckless, impulsive, laughing loudly and as brightly as the sun he wears the name of, just a boy of seventeen, joyous and at peace. He can’t be that today, it hurts just thinking about it. Today, all he can be is broken. It’s okay, he’s used to it.

You haven’t moved despite the minutes ticking by. Sirius either. It’s like… you’re caught in a game of statues. Who knows how long it’ll last. He knows you’ll break first, though. And he doubts you, for a moment. He sees you leaving. He sees you turning away without a word, walking by this twisted statue again, hurry down the corridor, head back to your dorm, run away from him. You should. You should, he isn’t worth it. It kills him to admit it, but he knows it all the same, all too well. And for a moment, he can see you giving up on him, he can picture it in his mind… even you can stop loving him. He’s unlovable enough for that.

And he’s right. You give up first, and move again before he does. He’s still a statue when you take a step closer, tilt your head to the side. You’re studying him, he can feel it in the intensity of your gaze without even looking up at you. He keeps on avoiding your eyes, actually. He still hopes you’ll leave; he still wants you to stay.

You’re still silent, perhaps because you know that there are no words you can speak that will make him feel better. That is not what he needs now. Words can wait. Right now, he’s just afraid to be alone, that’s why he feels so lonely, that’s why he isolates himself so much. It’s safer that way. People won’t leave you, if you leave them first…

You know what he needs, you love him enough for that. Without a sound, you sit down on the dusty ground by his side. You match his posture, like a mirror. You rest your temple against the window, only, you’re not looking outside, you’re looking at him instead.

And he hates it. He hates it because even if you show him over and over again that you’ll stay, he’s still afraid you’ll leave. And the voice in his head screams to push you away but he doesn’t want to. He’s not a Black. He doesn’t want to be one. He wants to be Sirius. He wants to be Padfoot. He wants to belong here, with the Marauders, with you… He wants to be the man you call baby, the one you hold onto at night to fall asleep, the one who carries your books and ties your shoes for you in the corridors making you roll your eyes even if you love it. He wants to be the one who kisses you in the morning, the one who touches every inch of your skin, the one who gets to taste your kisses on his tongue. He wants to be the one to protect you, to comfort you, to make you feel safe, the one… the one who is going to love you, no matter what. That’s who he wants to be. That’s who he’ll be, if you let him. After the crisis passes, he can be that boy again. He craves for it, even if, perhaps, he shouldn’t aim that high. A fool’s hope; but such a bright, happy one…

At long last, he turns to you. He keeps a stern face at first, merely stares at you. And he doesn’t even notice the way he stares, but how could he not? Because you’re looking at him with the most tender smile, and with such fondness in your eyes. You look at him with so much love, he chokes on it. He can’t take so much of it, not when he’s like this, at his worst, in his darkest form. Still, you smile, an almost dreamy one, and you stare at him as if he were made of light instead of shadows, as if he truly shone as brightly as the star he wears the name of. And it hurts, in the best way, to see so much hope and faith in him, so much love in someone else’s gaze while looking at him…

He doesn’t even realize it when a tear rolls down his cheek. He doesn’t care. It’s just you. He can feel, and show it, and be weak. Because you’ve come, the way you always come. Because you haven’t left, the way you never leave. And he wonders why he still doubts you’ll stay, because you’ve proven over and over again that you will. Always, it would seem…

And this time, he knows you'll stay. He knows it all too well. Because you haven't moved at all, and he's used it, and you never do. Whenever the crisis come, you merely stay here, with him, and you wait until the storms weather, and he comes back to you. You're his constant through it all. And you're here you're here you're here, everywhere he looks, he always finds you near, and for the first time he's not so afraid that you might leave. Maybe you're right. Maybe he does deserve to be loved, loved, loved.

Maybe you could show him how. Perhaps he’ll doubt you again, the next time the crisis comes. Perhaps you’ll show him once more. He reckons that you’re patient enough for that.

The mask crumbles, slowly, a steady bearing of a soul that starts with a tear and ends with the ghost of a smile. When he reaches for your hand, he looks like Sirius again. Your Sirius. The one he always is, the one always in him, even when he can’t see it too.

He doesn’t need to say the words, the tender squeeze of your hand speaks every word of it. You know it already, anyway.

Thank you. I love you. Stay… stay forever.

You will. You’ll stay, as long as he lets you near. You love him enough for that. For staring at his cracks and scars and see the light in them through the chasms. One day, you hope he can see it too. And it’s funny because… you’re thankful too. You’re thankful that he lets you in, that he lets you reach him, even if he struggles, even if it takes a little bit of time. Still, you love him. One day, he’ll learn to love himself too. You’ll make sure of that.

***************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

[gakriele-lvs-blog]

Hunter's list of parental figures

Hunter accumulated a remarkable amount of possible parental figures across the series (in both canon and fanon)

-Lilith (at least in fanon): Even throught she acted cold and uncaring during her stay in the emperor's coven she was indeed still a good person behind that mask. So upon realizing the kind of life Hunter was going through (after questioning her belief, past actions, and faith) she would willing to do everything in her power to get him the hell out of Belos's grasp, including getting Eda or Raine involved to assure his safety.

-Raine (Also in fanon): As an active rebel in disguise, they would most likely found out about Hunter's identity behind the mask and the treatment he suffered. They would also do anything in their power to save Hunter, even if it means leaving their current position to do so. (They would definitely appear at Eda's door and say: "Behold! Our son!" he is very sad and is made out of wood and stolen meat!)

Eda: She literally adopted two random kids in the span of 3 to 6 months. Who is going to stop her from adopting the nephew of the Demon Realm equivalent of Jesus? Her human daughter literally assaults government facilities on a weekly basis and his son is a literal offspring of GOD! If you mess with her kids she is going to break your bones and steal your wallet! And In Hollow Mind if Hunter hasn't run away and stayed she would have gotten the adoption papers the next morning.

Darius: We all know this one. The poor man has probably been overwhelmed with guilt and regret after losing his mentor, and looking at Hunter so blindly loyal to Belos must have been quite a heartbreaking sight. But the moment Hunter showed his willingness to defy authority... After Hollow Mind, he probably has a room ready for him at his house, filled with pretty much everything he thinks he will need (from hundreds of books, Flyer Derby equipment, a sewing kit, and who knows what else he has prepared to spoil him rotten)

Camila: We all know she is the Endgame. She is the one who knows him the best out of everyone, she was there when he was left powerless, without a mission, duty, or fate... not even family. She was the reason he learned what is like to be part of a true family. She doesn't care for formalities, she personally teaches him how to use the sewing machine, provided him with the food and clothes he wanted, and even allowed him to use hers and Manny's books and cosplays. Without mentioning how Luz is practically her sister in every shape and form except legally.

Dell (mostly fanon): Hunter mentioned how he wishes to learn how to carve palismans. And who else is a master of the art? one that has probably been looking for someone to pass on the family's legacy. That old but wise man could deliver in a silver plate one of Hunter's dreams.

Steve: No joking, I remember reading a fic about just that, the man appears out of nowhere and gets Hunter the fuck out of here (no idea where it is or if it was a fever dream of mine but...)

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Hiii! I'd like to make a request for a mama!Nat x daughter!reader story.

Reader's been diagnosed with a heart problem and she needs to have a surgery and while r's in the surgery Natasha almost loses it from worry and has a panick attack because she's scared for the reader and the team or whoever you want has to reassure her that everything will be okay and tell her sweet things about how reader's a fighter just like her mama and things like that.

Then Natasha fully relaxes after the doctor tells her that reader's okay and she runs at full speed to her daughter's side.

I hope it's okay with you and if you don't like the idea you can just ignore it. It's okay if you don't want to write it :)

Omgg HIIIII!! Not me getting a request to someone i follow😭 i hope you like this :> and thank you for your request ehhehehehe hii again lmaooo

IM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK LONGGG 😭

Heart went oops

A/n: Hiiii everyoneee if you guys have request feel free to share <3 IM LAUGHING MY ASS OFF WITH THE TITLE😭 IM SO SORRY I COULDNT THINK OF ANYTHING LMAOOOO

And reminder the medical stuff here is not true. I don't know if this is right or wrong but most definitely the wrong lmaoooo

Taglist: @smuttynattyfanfics @youralphawolf72 @madelineleong @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @lissaaaa145 @fxckmiup @mmmmokdok @sayah13 @karmasgxrl @meurgen @simp-erformarvelwomen @lilaswidowspark @snowdrop1026

She's so pretty I'm gonna die

~~~

"No, Uncle Sam. Stop" you whined, running away from your Uncle who was currently chasing you down with a bug in hand. Well, that's what you taught he had. But he didn't have any on her hands.

The other members know your hate of bugs but they also knew you find it funny when they tease you with it.

However, you came to a halt when you suddenly felt like you were running out of breath. You tried to normalize your breathing but every breath you take was not enough to fill your lungs. And then your heart started to feel like someone is squeezing it. Your breathing became ragged, your sweaty even from a minute of run you did with Uncle Sam.

"You okay, y/n?" Sam asked, concerned at your state. All the team looked at what stopped the commotion you and Sam had.

"My— my chest— hu- hurts" you stutteringly said. "I can't— I can't breathe"

"Guys! I need help here!" Sam panicked. Everyone came in a minute, especially your Mom.

"What's wrong?" Nat asked, assessing your state. You felt dizzy everything was not how it was supposed to look. Everything was spinning.

"She said she can't—" Before Sam could say anything you went limp in your mother's arms.

~~~

Everyone rushed you to the med bay. All of them with worry on their faces, especially your Mom.

She looked like she was gonna burst. Her jaws were locked and her eyes were with fear.

All of them knew that look, it means she's gonna yell at somebody. Who is somebody?

Sam.

"What did you do?!" Natasha boomed after they were told to stay outside. Each one of them flinched in fear.

"We were just messing—"

"YOU ARE ALWAYS MESSING AROUND AND NOW LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!" She cut him off, pointing her finger at Sam. "Now what's gonna happen huh? She's there and we don't know what's —"

She was cut off by a doctor of the med bay. "Ms. Natasha. Y/n's Mom right?"

"Yes, How is she?" she said, voice quivering.

"She had a heart attack and needed surgery. She has a heart condition that only appeared as she got older that is why you guys might not have known. She is still in the OR. We'll know more after the surgery"

Nat didn't have the time to thank the doctor before he could go back and assist the other doctors. Her head whipped in Sam's direction with furrowed eyebrows.

"LOOK—" Before she could shout and take all her anger to Sam, her breaths suddenly didn't reach her lungs. "She—"

"Nat, calm down" Wanda knew where this was happening.

"I didn't—" Her breaths were uneven. She's looking everywhere but nowhere. Her mind was in a haze. Why didn't I know?

"Natasha, we all didn't know. Just like the doctor said. It's not your fault." Wanda comforted her.

Despite all the words that have been said, it was all muffled by Natasha. Wanda sat the crying and panicking redhead down. Matras of "it's okay" comes out of her mouth to try and soothe the distressed assassin.

After a few hours, Natasha fell asleep on Wanda's shoulders. A doctor suddenly went out of the operating room and all gazes were on the doctor's way, waiting for his updates.

Nat was quick to sense that something was happening in her haze of sleep. Opening her eyes, she immediately stood up seeing the doctor.

"How is she?" she frantically asked.

"Your daughter is okay now Ms. Romanoff. Her surgery went well and she is now awake. You can enter the room now." The doctor calmly stated.

Natasha ran to the door and you flinched at the sudden noise. Your mom ran to your side and gave you a tight hug, apologizing after hearing yoy hiss in pain.

"Are you okay?" your mom quivered. You knew she was crying her eyes were bloodshot and tear-stained cheeks were evident on her face.

"Yeah, mom. I'm okay, just peachy" you chuckled. "I'm sorry I worried you"

"You're fine that's all that matters" she sighed in relief.

Or do you want a soup?"

All the team wished and kiss you on the head for a fast recovery and also say they love you. Everyone knew its a sign to leave and gave you and your mother some space after all that panicking earlier.

"Do you want anything?" she asked. "Maybe some ice chips? Ice cream?"

"Mom-"

"Snacks?"

"Mo-"

"or do you want some soup?"

"Mom!" you heaved.

"What?"

"I want cuddles"

Natasha relaxed and smiled.

"Alright, cuddles it is"

[threadsun]

Anonymous Asks: "What if on another escape attempt of MC's Jean gets fustrated enough to just sexually punish MC to make it clear that MC is his and only his."

ngl this went much more violent sadism than just sex, but that's also how Jean gets off the best so...

Content: noncon, mindbreaking, kidnapping, sadism, masochism, impact play, whipping, blood, broken bones, beating, object insertion, hole gaping/ruining, throatfucking, generally a lot of fucked up violence that Jean gets off to

You’re used to seeing people snap. Someone waits too long in a queue and shouts at the poor cashier just trying to do their job. Someone has a stressful day, makes a single misstep, and breaks down in tears. Someone gets tired of their partner’s lies and shouts at them in a crowded mall. You’re used to seeing people snap.

You’re not used to seeing Jean snap.

Calm, levelheaded, smugly-in-control Jean. He’s never snapped at you before. He’s hurt you. He’s kidnapped you and abused you. He’s even killed for you. But he’s never lost his cool. You’ve never seen this clenching of his fist, this twitching in his jaw, this wild anger in his eyes. You’ve never seen him lose his cool like this before.

“I give you food.” Jean’s voice is low, venomous as he stalks towards the corner of the basement he’s thrown you into. “I give you shelter. I give you love. I give you everything you could ever want. I buy you everything you ask for. I have done everything for you.”

You shrink back into the corner, the concrete cold against your back. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to go. You had your chance to escape five minutes ago, but you’d blown it. Jean had caught you and now… now he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Now you’re regretting not playing along and being his lovely little plaything.

“So tell me, sweetheart.” He crouches in front of you, squishing your cheeks in a vice-like grip with one hand. “Why the fuck do you keep running?”

“I’m sor—”

You don’t see his hand. You only feel the harsh impact on your cheek, sending your head banging into the wall. Your vision spins for a moment, ears ringing as he grabs your face and looks you in the eyes once more. His lips move, but it’s a moment before you can hear him again.

“—hear another fucking word out of that stupid fucking mouth of yours, got it?”

You nod frantically.

“Good.” He grabs your arm, dragging you onto your hands and knees. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay exactly where I put you.”

You watch him stalk across the basement, tasting blood in your mouth. You think you can feel some dripping from your temple too, but it’s indistinguishable from your tears as they roll down your cheeks. He’s fucked you before, after escape attempts. But never down here. Never this angry.

He returns with a metal baseball bat slung over one shoulder and a thin switch hanging from his other hand. He seems almost… disappointed that you’d obeyed his command and stayed still. He drops the bat with a sigh, ignoring the way it clangs on the hard concrete floor. You want to look over your shoulder, to see what he’s going to do next. But you know it’s a bad idea.

His foot shifts, standing on your hand heavily as he lines himself up to hit your bare ass with the switch. You can hear your bones crunching under his heel, sharp pain shooting up your arm as you cry out in pain. He digs his heel in for a moment before taking the switch down, leaving a stinging stripe across your ass.

He’s brutal, merciless as he beats your ass and thighs until it stings. You can feel something running down your legs, and you can’t quite tell if it’s blood or if he’s fucked up your brain enough that this is turning you on. Either way, you can already imagine what a mess you must look, beaten raw by his harsh blows. His heel digs into your hand with every swing. The bones are beyond broken, and the small part of your brain that has detached itself from your punishment wonders if you’ll ever be able to use that hand again.

By the time he stops, Jean’s winded. You can hear the growl underlying every breath, and you know your punishment is far from over. His hands wrap around your biceps, hauling you up and dragging you to the middle of the basement. His nails dig into your skin and you can see the blood welling up around them as you cradle your broken hand to your chest.

“Ungrateful little bitch.” It’s the first words he’s spoken to you since he started. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing.

He falls silent once more, yanking your arms above your head and grabbing some chains hanging from the ceiling. You don’t have much time to wonder what else is down here. He roughly strings you up, arms wrenched painfully above your head and toes just barely scraping the ground. He disappears for a moment and you feel cold dread drip down your spine.

“I need to hear two words.” Jean walks back into view, a whip coiled tightly in his hands.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s waiting for you to speak. Two words. “I’m sorry.”

You try to make it sound as genuine as possible. Your voice croaks, hoarse from screaming. Your body aches and defeat weighs heavy on your shoulders. All you can do is stare him in the eyes and hope to god that he believes you. That he’ll take pity on you.

“Wrong choice.”

You don’t have time to process what that could possibly mean. He’s behind you again, and the whip is cracking through the air. There’s a moment—just a brief flicker of time—where you don’t feel anything at all. And then you’re in agony. Thrashing against the chains, screaming, sobbing. It feels like fire, rushing across your back where the whip fell.

“Useless. Fucking. Brat.” He spits out each word, punctuating them with more lashes from his whip. “I’ve given you everything. You could’ve wanted for nothing. And still you have to push push push. Maybe I should break your fucking legs. Maybe that’ll be enough to stop you from running.”

You’re definitely bleeding this time. There’s no other explanation for the warmth dripping down your back. Your vision is blurry with tears, your whole back feeling like it’s burning. You’d rather he just killed you and got it over with. You hope he’ll just kill you and get it over with.

You only realise he’s done with the whip when you hear him toss it aside. It skitters across the floor, and you hope desperately that this means it’s over. That he’ll feel he’s punished you enough. That he’ll look at the lashes marring your skin, the blood dripping down, and will take pity on you.

There’s a metallic ring. It’s hard to blink away enough tears to see, but finally Jean comes into view. He’s dragging the metal bat across the ground towards you. He looks… calmer than before, at least. But a stony calm. The kind that lets you know he won’t hesitate to hurt you.

“Two words.”

“I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry!”

The bat swings through the air, colliding with your stomach. You want to double over, to clutch your abdomen. But the chains hold you in the air and all you can do is bend your head. You’re winded, coughing as you try desperately to take in a gasp of air. If the lashes were like fire, this is like getting crushed by a fucking train.

“Wrong. Try again.”

Your brain scrambles for words, trying desperately to figure out what he wants you to say to him. “Yes sir.”

“Wrong.”

Another swing. You hear the crack as one of your ribs breaks. Evidently he hears it to, a cruel smile spreading across his face in satisfaction. The sadistic bastard. Your breaths come in a wheeze, and you find yourself coughing again. You don’t know how many swings you can take.

“Try again.”

“Please stop!” It comes out in a choked sob.

“Wrong. Try again.”

Another swing to your stomach that leaves you coughing up blood.

“No more!”

“Wrong. Are you even trying?” Another swing.

Your brain scrambles for what he might want to hear, grasping for anything you could possibly say to stop him from hitting you again. “Harder, daddy!”

“Wrong.” Another swing, harder this time.

“Fuck you!”

“Wrong. Stupid cunt.”

He doesn’t give you another chance. Swing after swing, until you can feel the bruises on your stomach. Until you’re coughing up blood and choking for air. Until the chains rattle with your desperate attempts to escape. You’re willing to break your wrists to slip out if it means ending this torture.

“One last try.” Jean takes a few deep breaths, leaning on the bat and staring at you with wild eyes. “Two words.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, desperate to block out the pain and focus. Maybe if you look into his eyes long enough… maybe you’ll see what he wants you to say. Or maybe you’re delirious from pain. It’s hard to tell at this point, with his hard eyes boring into you.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m yours.”

The words come out with surprising ease. It feels like a weight has lifted from your chest. You’re not sure why you ever tried to fight it. Why you pushed him so far when this was all he wanted from you. You can see it in his eyes, all he wants is you. Why had you denied him that for so long?

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it sweetheart?”

Jean’s anger melts away, eyes softening as he watches you hang before him. He picks up the bat and approaches you. It takes all your effort not to flinch away when his hands reach between your legs to cup you. The whimper you let out is equal parts pain and arousal. He’s really fucked you up, hasn’t he?

“Oh sweetheart,” he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your bruised stomach. “I promised myself I would only do this if you got it wrong again, but… you’re so needy~”

He steps away, leaving you hanging there, wondering what new torture he’s going to force on you. There’s the sound of a bottle. A wet sound. It sounds like he’s slicking his cock up to fuck you. The thought makes you shudder, legs spreading ever so slightly at the thought of him fucking you from behind while you hang here.

It’s not his cock that presses against your hole, cold and hard. You only really have the energy to whimper, a few tears slipping down your cheeks as you feel the baseball bat pressing against you. You don’t doubt for a moment what he’s going to do with it. And you don’t doubt for a moment that he’ll enjoy every second of it.

His arm hooks around your hips, holding you still as he works the cold metal bat into you. Your hands grip the chains above you, screams torn from your throat as he violates you with the bat. Your hole stretches beyond its limits with no preparation. Your body aches. You feel like you’re being split in half, torn down the middle. It pushes at your insides in a way that makes your stomach twist.

Jean’s hands are calm, constant, placing pressure on you and the end of the bat to urge more and more of it into you. Once he finally, mercifully decides you’ve reached your limit, he begins to fuck you with it. Cruel, bruising thrusts. You can hear him moan as he watches your hole stretch around the thick bat. You feel dizzy, nauseous, like you might pass out at any moment.

With a final, rough pull, your hole is left empty. Gaping and twitching. He reaches up and releases the chains around your wrists, letting you fall into the puddle of blood you’ve dripped onto the floor beneath you. It’s over. It’s finally over. You’ve paid the price for trying to run.

“If this falls out of you before I cum, we’ll start this all over again.” Jean’s voice is thick with lust as he pushes the handle of the bat inside of you.

It’s not over. You clench around the handle as best as you can, hoping your hole is tight enough to keep the wide base from slipping out of you. He pulls you up by your hair, thumb brushing some blood from the corner of your mouth. His cock is hard as it presses against your cheek. You open your mouth.

“Look at all this blood, sweetheart…” Jean sighs adoringly, pushing his cock into your mouth. “Should make it easier for you to take me all the way~”

You’re finally back in familiar territory, Jean’s cock thrusting in and out of your throat at a brutal pace. You can feel the blood bubbling up in your throat around his cock, spilling out from the corners of your lips every time he pulls out. You have no time to breathe. No time to adjust to the brutal facefucking. But you’re used to this. You’re used to the way he grips your hair and pounds into the back of your throat like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight.

“Fuck, sweetheart… I should make you bleed like this more often…”

It’s a mess of blood and drool and tears as he fucks your throat. You desperately keep your muscles tensed, trying to remember not to let the bat slip out of you. There’s so much to focus on, the pain seeping through your body is the last thing on your mind. All you care about is making Jean cum as quickly as you can.

Thankfully, he’s a sadist. The sight of you gagging on his cock, bruised and bloody and on your knees for him, is more than enough to get him off. He holds your head down and cums with a roughly growled command not to swallow. You obey, vision going fuzzy as you hold your breath. Finally he pulls away, fingers pulling your mouth open to look at the mix of blood and cum inside.

“Go on, swallow.”

You swallow it down, shuddering at the salty, bitter, iron taste. It’s so much, all at once. But it’s over. You can feel your body pushing out the bat. You can hear the lewd, wet sound as it leaves your ruined hole. It clangs to the ground behind you, and your body gives out, collapsing alongside it. The last thing you hear before you black out from the pain is Jean’s voice.

“Never try to leave me again.”

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | eighteen

*Noah’s POV* When I woke up the next morning Ellie was still sleeping, she had no blankets on her and it was taking everything I had to not run my hands over her ass that was covered in lace. Fighting my thoughts, I got up and decided to go grab us breakfast. I quickly threw on a hoodie, grabbed my AirPods and headed out the door. I put my headphones in, listening to some samples of new music we had been working on. It was nowhere near ready for the world to hear, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it yet. I was thinking of doing a revised deluxe album because I had written a lot after Ellie left that felt like it belonged in this era. It was hard to me to want to close this albums chapter, it had given me so much and helped me grow.

I didn’t get very far listening to it when my phone started to ring, my feet froze when I saw it was Matt. I drew in a sharp breath before answering him.

“Hey…”

“That didn’t take long.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve talked to you but -“

“I knew she was going back to you but was I even out of fucking Canada before you called her?” “How did you even know?” “You’ve had your location on this whole time.”

Shit. “I had to tell her how I felt, I’m sorry.” “You should’ve fucking waved at me when our planes passed each other bro.” “What the fuck do you want?”

“To say that and to ask if your meeting is about the idea of moving...”

“What makes you think that?”

“Last time someone said team meeting it was because Ruffilo wanted to move back to Virginia.” 

“I have to do this, she has too much tied up here to move in with me.”

“And you don’t? Our whole band’s headquarters is down there.”

“You’re not there and we do just fine.”

“But you’re -“

“There is nothing that will make me stay there, got it?” I felt myself shaking from how irritated I was getting. “Everyone is going to have to realize that my life with Ellie is just has important as this band now.”

“Make the meeting for 6pm your time. Some of us might not have girlfriends but we’re still busy.”

He hung up, causing me to curse under my breath. I figured he was going to be hardest to sell this to, the other guys probably wouldn’t care but I wanted their input. I’m not losing Ellie again and I want to be around her as much as possible. Also I loved it up here, I never got recognized and if I did, I got left alone. I felt like I could finally live the quiet life I dreamt of, and even better it would be with Ellie. I’ll always love LA and what it gave me, but it still came with baggage and noise you couldn’t drown out. Shaking off that god awful phone call, I headed into a local coffee shop and got us iced oat milk lattes and breakfast bagels before heading back home. 

Home. 

Something I still couldn’t believe was real. *Ellie’s POV* I woke up to the sound of the door closing shut causing my body to shoot out of bed thinking Noah left. I guess my pstd from Matt was still there, lucky me. My heart soared when I saw Noah standing in my kitchen holding bagels and coffee for us. I still couldn’t believe this was real and that he was here with me again. He noticed me standing there as his million dollar smile appeared, if it wasn’t for this wall I’d be on the floor by now.

“I hope I didn’t wake you.” “Kinda.” I smirked as he passed me my coffee, “it’s the perfect way to wake up though.” “I agree.” He beamed, kissing my forehead. “I don’t want to dull the mood but we should talk about the whole moving thing.” I sighed, knowing he was right. We both sat down with our breakfast at the table, neither of us knowing where to start. There was nothing I wanted more than for him to be here with me, but I didn’t want to jeopardize his career or make it inconvenient for the band. At the end of the day, he wasn’t going to be a couple states away, he was going to be in another country. 

“Noah, is this a bad idea?” “What do you mean?” I shifted in my seat, grabbing his hand, “I don’t want to make things hard for you and the band. I know being in LA makes the most sense, especially when it comes to recording new music. I also know how much you hate flying, and I worry if you have to fly more you’ll get exhausted and burn yourself out.” “It’s definitely crossed my mind.” He paused to take a small sip of his coffee, “when we talked about this last year, I had a plan already in mind…do you want to hear it?” I just nod. “I was hoping to sell my home in California and buy something up here we could share. I’d put a recording studio in it, we could have a backyard and a pool for Liam and whatever else we needed. Having a recording studio here would help because then I can tweak things and work on them without going to LA, or the band can come up here. Steven has mentioned he wants us to have a Canadian distribution centre for our merch so here would be the perfect spot because we could run it.” My heart jumped into my throat, “We?” “If you wanted a distraction from Nursing, Steven could use a lot more help.” “Wow” I breathed. This went from just having Noah in my apartment to us having a house and possibly working together. “If that’s too much I understand.” He sighed, looking down at my hands. “It’s just been in my mind for a year, and now that I’m here again I want nothing more than to have that future with you finally.” This man was all in for me and I wanted nothing more than to give him everything he wanted. I got out of my chair to go sit on his lap. His somber eyes followed my hands that pushed his bangs out of his face. My own eyes studied the pattern of his freckles before I gently kissed his nose. “Let’s do it.” His eyes widened. “Really?” My smile told him everything he needed to know. His hands wrapped around me as he stood up and spun me around, causing me to laugh uncontrollably. A million I love you’s fell past his mouth and I returned the favour as the moment was filled with complete bliss. Everything was about to fall into place for us and we could finally start our future together.

[disasterofastory]

Relief (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Relief wizard!Bucky Barnes x assistant!Reader Warnings: sex pollen, smut

Summary: While Bucky was away, you got in trouble and he has to help you

A/N: I really liked the idea of Bucky being a wizard (or something similar) living with his sweet assistant in a cute cottage, so maybe we will meet them again. Kinktober 2022

A relieved sigh leaves Bucky's lips when he sees his home peeking behind the trees. The golden knocker glints in the warm lights, and flowers blossom on the windowsills. He found the small cottage during one of his wanderings. It was abandoned and covered in dust and dirt. He needed long months to make it a home, but in the end, he did it. The brunette worked hard, carving most of the furniture himself. It was five years ago, and he is still grateful he found this place in the middle of the woods. The closest village is a few days away, but he doesn't want to be around people anyway. He enjoys peace, and your company is more than enough for him.

Sun shines through the branches, warming his skin. The weather is surprisingly warm for autumn. Bucky's white tunic sticks to his sweaty upper body. The dirt of the road covers his pants and worn boots. The shoemaker, a young man, will make a new pair the next time they meet. A bag pulls down on his shoulder. It's heavy with everything he got in exchange for his portions and herbs.

As he watches his home getting closer and closer, he can't help but imagine your happiness when you see him again. He can barely wait to eat your food again and enjoy a warm bath before starting to work. The man got a lot of orders to bring with him the next time he visits the village. Wrinkled notes of the asks rest on the bottom of his bag. Hopefully, he didn't lose them already. You are much better at keeping everything in order. It was one of the reasons he didn't send you away when you appeared at his door one day. He doesn't even remember how you found his small home or why you wanted to stay, even though he was rude and grumpy. He still is. You just stayed, and he never bothered to ask for reasons. Despite your often annoying behavior, he likes the way you keep the cottage clean and organized. And Bucky wouldn't admit it for anything, but he likes the fact that there is someone who waits for him to come home.

The wooden door creaks when Bucky pushes it open, stepping into the house carefully not to make a mess with his muddy boots. His eyes scan over the small kitchen, searching for your familiar form while kicking off his shoes, and soon, his bag lands next to them with a quiet thud. The kitchen and living room are empty. Everything is clean and tidy, but you are nowhere to be seen. "Y/N?" Bucky asks, sniffing the air. He frowns when he doesn't smell food. You always make sure you cook his favorites when you think he will be home soon. "Y/N?" He tries again, wandering further into the house. You really made sure to clean everything from the bottom to the top, he thinks. The man opens his mouth, ready to call out your name again when he hears something from the back of the cottage. His bedroom. The door is wide open, and nothing stops him from seeing you on his bed.

The air gets stuck in his lungs, and his chest feels too tight all of sudden.

The covers are wrinkled under your naked body. Your fingers tightly hold onto the fabrics. Your hair is a mess, sticking to your temple with sweat. Bucky can see the haze in your eyes when your gazes meet. The soft line of your jaw clenches, and one of your legs kick out, dropping back on the bed. "Bucky," you cry out his name between your teeth. Your whine is high-pitched and troubled. The man needs a few seconds to find his voice. "Wha-what happened to you?" "I'm sorry," you sob, but it's not the answer he wants to hear right now. Tears run down your heated cheeks as you try to continue, but your throat is so tight you can barely force the words out. "I'm so sorry." "Shh," Bucky hushes you, stepping next to the bed. He leans down to comfort you, but he decides against it. You are still totally naked, and he needs his every strength to stop his eyes from wandering. "Tell me what happened," he asks you again, keeping his voice calm and even. He doesn't want to upset you more than you already are. "I wanted to clean your office," you reply. Bucky lets himself swipe off your tears with his thumb as he cups your jaw. "But I dropped a glass, and now everything hurts, and I can't make it stop." "Which glass, Y/N?" He asks, tightening his hold on your face to keep your focus on him. "What was in the glass you dropped?" "It was red," you sob. "I thought it was glitter." "Damn it, Y/N!" He curses. "I know." Your weeping gets louder, and Bucky swallows down his words. It's not the right time to tell you he doesn't want you in his office, touching his stuff for a reason. They can be dangerous, but you already know it by now. "You poor thing," he hums, caressing your hot cheek with his rough fingertip. "I go and mix the antidote, but it takes time." "Don't," you beg. Your hand snaps up to his wrist, keeping him in place. "Don't leave me! I can't… I can't anymore… It hurts so much!" "Y/N," he starts, trying to find the right words without feeling embarrassed. "The red glitter… It was sex pollen. The pain won't go away until you get the antidote or… or cum. A lot." "Then make me cum," you answer immediately without a second thought. "Y/N," Bucky begins, but he doesn't know how to continue. His mind is torn between your painful sobs and your sweet musky scent that fills his nostrils. "Please, Bucky," you wail. Your whole body shakes with broken sobs and hiccups. "I want the pain to go away! It hurts so much! Make it stop!"

The man can't fight anymore. His steel-blue eyes go down on your body with lust and hunger. Your chest trembles from crying your eyes out, and your nipples are hard and swollen. Your skin is smooth on your belly that quivers with every rapid breath you take. Bucky's chest swells as he sucks the air in when his gaze reaches the apex of your thighs. Your skin glistens with your juices. It drips down on the bed, wetting the sheets.

"Okay, my darling," Bucky whispers, moving to the end of the bed. It seems like he can't tear his eyes away from your puffy folds and throbbing clit. So pretty. You are so damn pretty. "I will help." Your lungs fill with oxygen from relief. "Yes! Please!" "It's okay, love," he hums, kneeling on the edge of the bed. His arms slip under the curve of your knees to hold them up, pushing your legs all the way to your upper body. He folds you easily until your hot cunt is barely a few inches away from his face. Your scent is overwhelming and intoxicating. He sniffs, nudging your clit with his nose. "I will help," he says. The hoarseness of his voice flares through your body. "I will make the pain away, Y/N." "Yes," you nod rapidly. Your stomach is in a tight knot with anticipation. "Yes!" Bucky licks up on your pussy without any warning. His hot tongue is flat against your folds, gathering your wetness. Your taste fills his senses, burning into his memory. He has no idea how he will live without it anymore. The man devours you, feasting on your sweet cunt. His teeth graze over your sensitive bud, closing his lips around it to start to suckle. A tight scream leaves your lips as your back arches off the bed. Every muscle in your body tenses, and hot, white pleasure washes over you. The painful knot in your stomach lessens, and the ache in your pussy is almost bearable. Fresh tears run down your face from the relief. "How are you feeling?" Bucky asks after a while, forcing himself to leave your pussy and crawl up on your body. His tunic sticks to your sweaty body. He can feel your nipples pressing against the hard plates of his chest. He barely touched you, yet you cum almost immediately. You poor thing. "Better," you breathe out, but your quiet sobs still shake your weak figure. "Thank you." The man smiles at your politeness, pecking the tip of your nose before dipping down to kiss you on the lips. He is soft and careful as he nibbles on you, grazing your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth. A muffled moan escapes your throat when you taste yourself on his tongue. "Do you want to continue?" Bucky asks, flicking your nose with his own. He doesn't want to pressure you into anything, but god, he really hopes you do. His cock is hard and throbbing between his muscled thighs. "Yes," you answer with a small nod of your head. Your fingers hold onto his tunic until he kneels up to take off the thin fabric. Your hands fall on your stomach, eyes sweeping over his defined upper body. His smooth skin is darker than usual because of spending so much time in the sun. The shade highlights every curve and hard edge of his muscles.

You have lived with Bucky for years now. Without him knowing it, he helped you when you needed someone the most. Of course, he can be grumpy, and living with him is not always the easiest, but you love every minute of it. You, falling in love with the grumpy wizard was inevitable from the beginning. You can barely believe your current situation. He is above you, drinking in your bare body under him with such a hunger in his eyes that takes your breath away. You have no idea what will happen when the effect of the pollen stops, but until then, you just want to enjoy the moment.

"Open your legs for me, darling," he rasps, patting your thigh encouragingly. You do as he says, letting your legs move apart to give him enough space while your eyes fall to the opening of his pants. His cock stands out hard and ready. The bulbous head is red and wet with his pre-cum, dripping down on his thick girth. The knot in your stomach tightens once again, and a lewd mewl escapes your lips.

It's not the first time you see his cock, but it is the first to look at it up close.

Meanwhile, the man basks under your intense, lustful gaze, swiping over his body and stopping on his cock. It throbs and grows in sync with his confidence. He doesn't even remember the last time he was with someone. During his travels and at the beginning of living in the middle of the woods, he always found some company in the villages. They were fun and meaningless, but then you appeared, and he couldn't make himself seek out other women while you were at home, waiting for him even though there was nothing between you two. It still felt wrong.

But now you are underneath him, panting and waiting for him to take your body.

Bucky reaches down between your legs, grazing his thumb over your wet folds and clit. His rough fingertip gets coated in your juices with one firm sweep. Moving his hand back to your face, he cups your cheeks and smooths over your lips with the same thumb. "Open up," he orders, mesmerized. Blood roars up in his ears as he watches you taking his finger into your pretty lips. He can feel your warm tongue licking down your own wetness. "God, Y/N," he grunts, closing his eyes for a second. His free hand slips down to his erection, stroking the hard rod a few times. "You are beautiful." "Bucky," you moan around his finger. "Please." "It's okay, darling," he says, bracing himself next to your head. "I'm here. I will take the pain away."

He slips inside you easily, stretching out your walls around his thick shaft. The tip of his cock nudges you in the right places as you grab his arms to support yourself against his thrusts. He splits you in two with each powerful push of his hips. The wet smacks fill the quiet cottage. "You are so tight, he grunts. "You are so good for me, darling. So warm and wet." Your hands move up to his shoulders, digging your nails into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades. "You take me so well, Y/N," Bucky continues. "You feel so good on my cock. Damn, your pretty little pussy is so perfect." Crying out his name, your legs curl around his thin waist. His movements change into short and fast thrusts with the small space you give him. Every jerk of Bucky's hips pushes you toward the edge, making you cry again because of the tension that burns your body. Your lower belly hurts, and your muscles contract without your control. Everything he gives to your abused cunt is too much and not enough at the same time. "Bucky," you sob his name, hoping he will understand. "I know, darling," he grunts. He speeds up, pounding into you with such force it pins you to the bed. You can do nothing but let him use your hole until the world gets black for a second. The burning coil in your stomach snaps, flaring through your whole body. The air gets stuck in your lungs, and your eyes roll back as your back arches off the bed. Bucky is the only thing that keeps you on the bed, not stopping or slowing down even for a second. His low grunts and groans in your ear send shivers down your spine, rocking your body against his hard length sheathed in your pussy. Your walls tighten around him, fluttering around his cock. He coats your insides, filling you up until your juices mix and drip down on the already messy cover.

Your grip on his shoulders is tight the whole time as you try to clear your dizzy mind. Both of you need long minutes to be able to move and think straight. "How are you feeling?" He asks in a raspy voice. His chest presses against yours each time one of you breathes. "Better," you whisper back. The burning of your bones and muscles is nowhere, the rapid pumping of your blood slowly stops, and even though your pussy still aches, it's much better than at the beginning. He moves away from you, lying down on his back to pull you onto his chest. His strong arms are around your torso, your leg is over his thighs. Small shocks of pleasure still make you shudder every now and again. "I'm sorry," you tell him in a small voice after a while. Your breath fans over his chest and his fingers draw slow circles on your back. "I hate that you were hurt," he says. "But I'm happy I was the one helping you." A lazy smile pulls on his plump lips as he stares up at the ceiling. "I'm happy about that too," you murmur, snuggling closer to his warmth before falling asleep in his arms.

Maybe from now on, Bucky will love something more to come home than your cooking and a warm bath, even though both of you will need them when you wake up.